159. Mothers teaching basic life skills to their sons

The holidays were over and my son was getting ready to go off to boarding school with his paraphernalia of dustpan and brush, clothes dryer rack and washing tabs. (See 157)

It left me with a pang of guilt. 

I, the perfect mother, had neglected this aspect of his education and he was learning all this from his co-boarders ... or worse from his co-boarders' mothers!!!!

I sat there at the kitchen table pondering my failings at parenting. How could I go on? No wonder the poor boy was so messy and so disorganised! It was all my fault. My very own very great fault!

I thought about quitting the job altogether, about leaving it to others. But then I realised others in this case meant the other parent: my husband! This was getting me nowhere. After all we sent our son away from the family home without telling him about washing machines and soap powder, sweeping floors and clothes racks. 

I thought about asking Google. I typed 'Things you should teach your teens before they leave the family home'. When the results came and I could see in black and white on the page what I had failed to do (I freaked out briefly at that point) I drew up a checklist. I was going to pin it above his desk and he could tick the boxes as progress would no doubt be made. Sorted. My positive attitude was coming back. Relief flooded within me and with it the urge to act. 

A quarter of an hour later, my checklist ready in hand I called my son.

'I'm busy, mum! I'm packing!' I suddenly realised how deep his voice was and how much like his dad he sounded. Which made the matter at hand more urgent.

'It is about packing. About the things you need to learn.'

'A bit late for that don't you think? I'm going away for the third term, you know.'

The guilt, the despair as I was reminded of my failings from my own son. 

'Exactly! So let's go through this before it is too late.'

We were in his room. The huge case was open and took up most of the floor space. The rest of it was strewn with clothes, bits of paper, school books, rugby things, and other things I did not wish to identify at this stage.

He ignored my bit of paper and my concerned looks and said:

'Look at this!'

He grabbed a neat little bundle and tossed it at me, I tossed it back and he tossed it right bang in the corner of the case.

'Cool, hey?'

I guess this was very cool indeed but I hadn't come here to toss bundles around. I came here to help him. I was taken back years to when he was a cute little boy with the most infuriating manners.

'Let's prepare the bedding.'

'Wait! Wait! Look at this.'

He took the little bundle and juggled it about skilfully then, out of the blue, in a flick of the wrist he pulled a corner and a teeshirt unfolded and flew gracefully up towards the ceiling of his bedroom. I should have screamed:

'The lampshade! Take care! You've got a lampshade up there!'

But 'lampshade' was not in his vocabulary yet (an other failure of mine discussed in a previous post) and anyway I was mesmerised.

'Oooooh!' I exclaimed, looking at the ceiling (lampshade was safe) and then at the case where the flying item had landed noiselessly.

'Aaaaaah! ..... ' 

'Cool or what?'

'Cool! Very cool!' I was back to my senses. I grabbed the checklist, ready for the two-hour crash-course.

'Ok, the bedding ...'

'Mum! Look, I'll show you. You want to know how to do this.'

We sat down on the floor and he patiently showed me the series of neat folds and tucks, each step at a time through to the grande finale: the wrapping it up in a tight bundle and throwing it up in the air (the lampshade!).

'You're impressed! Admit it!'

'True. I am.' I decided to ask.

'Where did you learn that?' I was dreading the answer and planned to leave the room in a big huff if he said he had learned it from his pal's mum.

'In a book.'

I almost screamed my joy to the world.

'In a book!'

He burst out laughing.

'Actually, sadly, I watched a video . ... I think some army trick, for backpacks and stuff.'

I was really impressed. I scrunched up the checklist into a ball and imitating his rugby style throw I chucked it in the waste paper basket. As I aimed right, he said:

'Way to go, Mum!'

'You know, that is a really useful skill. When mum and dad go off driving across Africa, this will come in handy.'

He raised his eyes to the ceiling but with a smile so I forgave him; anyway I was still under the spell of the new trick.

'Ok, I'll leave you and your packing. But make sure you fold everything neatly.'

'Not everything, mum! It would take too long!'

'Ok, whatever, just pack.'

I could see that my child could obviously fend for himself. So I left him to pack on his own as usual. We were back to the same old routine and I could not even remember where the problem was. Was there a problem? There was no problem. 

He took the train on Sunday afternoon and in the early evening my phone flashed briefly. He must have arrived at school. I glanced at the screen. Instead of the usual two-word message it looked as if there was actually a complete sentence there. I picked it up to read.

'Got here ok. Forgot bedsheets and towels.'