The past month has been a little more “excitement” than I like to have in my life, what with my son’s academic dismissal from school in December. Who would’ve thought we’d need to be regrouping so much for a kid who took his first college class at Skidmore when in eighth grade and got an A, who had a perfect math SAT (and not far behind other scores) and an $80,000 merit scholarship to Northeastern University? Not that I ever took things for granted, but holy hell, I didn’t expect this.
I do feel better about his upcoming new situation after spending the weekend in Connecticut. We had a little sit-down with his future boss, someone who has known my husband since he was under 10 years old and my husband actually worked for as well when in college. He is paying our kid the usual wage for what my husband dubbed “the knuckleheads” — basically those without specific construction skills. He or one of his crew will be picking our boy up at the crack of dawn to start work. It’s going to be a cold winter for him, so we need to buy him heavy duty outdoor work clothes.
We also found him an apartment in a nice building in a safe neighborhood. We had a bit of adventure looking at places in less-desirable neighborhoods, which rightly scared some shit out of my kid. Thankfully, the place he’ll be living is also owned by a family friend who wouldn’t normally rent to a kid my son’s age with his utter lack of references and credit history.
At least I can feel ok about who he’s working for and that his landlord is a good man. People who care about him and his wellbeing. It’s a cushier situation than most people would have under the circumstances, although it’s not glamorous by any stretch of the imagination.
My heart aches realizing he’s moving out and probably never coming back. It’s a few years earlier than it was supposed to happen. I’m glad I’ve got plenty of my own stuff to keep me busy, but this mama can’t says she was ready for all this.