Hubby took younger to bowling yesterday morning, leaving me with wondering what to do with myself. He had a point; we are coming to the end of band season and long days (until indoor percussion starts), and the other piece of what to do with elder--who is fighting his own demons, and depression is kicking his ass.
Hubby is doing a stellar job in getting us organized, so I knew exactly where to find the learner's permit paperwork. We've been sitting on this for well over a year for both kids, but we finally got the medical portion filled out for both of them, and it was time to execute before the validity expires.
Elder lumbered down stairs and took up his usual location in the man cave (all furniture in there has N-shaped indentation). I gave him a little while of peace before telling him to get dressed.
"What's going on?" he asked. It's the question he always asks whenever we ask him to do something or tell him he needs to do something NOW.
I didn't show those cards until we were in the car and moving. I never would have gotten him into the car if I told him we were going to the DMV. He complained, sure, but he knew no amount of complaining was going to deter me, so we settled into a chat about work and work hours. He needs to look for a full time job or figure out if he wants to transfer to a 4-year college after getting his associates. He doesn't want to think about any of that right now, which is part of our problem.
The DMV is busy, but not packed. I'm always amazed when I come here with N and the 'helpful' person who directs traffic is quick to tell me "You will need to come back." This happened three times before, and the first time left me prepared for the subsequent times. "OH NO," I said, pulling out passport, birth certificate, ss card and directing Nic to pull out his state ID, "You can't tell me that we don't have enough ID AND that I need two pieces of mail. This is LITERALLY all the ID we have." (we were allowed to take a number, yay)
(An aside: it's pretty clear N has extra, and that if I weren't there, N would have turned around and come out to the car and told me "Not today, mom." Which is part of the reason why I can't die.)
As we waited, I told N, "Look, we can do whatever you want after. You don't need to work til 6, so we have all afternoon." He looked less harassed and happy to think about something he wanted to do.
And I sat there reflecting that his life has gotten so, so small. Nineteen months ago, his trajectory was undeniable: He had three part-time jobs, one of which was a competitive internship he won, he sat at the top of his class in his business program at the vo-tech and enjoyed a pretty full and independent life--including taking public transit and Lyft wherever he needed to go.
Then, COVD shut it all down.
Developmentally, we lost years.
If I type out what the present looks like, I'm probably going to cry.
So making it to here, this point, in the DMV with my son on this Saturday morning, is a huge deal.
When our number is called, I go to the counter with him, because he has errors in his documentation that are literally as old as he is and have never been urgent enough to correct--or, in the grand scheme of things, we haven't gotten there because there were always more urgent pieces of red tape to attend to. And again, I talk, because I understand what needs to be said to get where we need to go. Both boys always attend what I say in these situations, which is why both of them are fairly good self advocates. That they are both gifted mimics is something of a mixed blessing.
I need to withdraw for N to do his knowledge test. He hasn't recently been studying (I caught him short this morning), so he got about 3/4 of the way through before they stopped the test. Which isn't bad, because that tells me with a little work, he can pass next time. But the important thing here is that we did the important legwork, and next time will be quicker. (and I could see that he had a lot of company on not passing that test this morning).
While disappointed, he was also a little relieved, and now we can do some things he liked to do. We walked over to a favorite store and picked up some Stock's pound cake; we made a couple stops to pick up some things G needed (at N's behest--he always thinks of his brother if it gets him something he wants). But, he is thoughtful, and I'm realizing that giving him space and getting him outside in the world even for a little while makes his shrunken world a little broader and lighter.
Over lunch, we have a quiet chat about nothing and everything. He smiles at me across the table. I'm seeing a little of the old N. He's understanding the why; inertia is a horrible thing, and getting back into a groove is going to be a lot of work.
I managed to get him walking 2 1/2 miles. The goal today is three.
We will regain lost ground. I have some decisions to make about his brother, but his brother is better positioned to make and advocate for his own choices. I'm here not so much to bend stuff to my will so much as to help them create their own wills and bend things to their own trajectories.
It's a delicate dance. I'm so used to running and directing all the things with elder because I had to; younger, on the other hand, has been running his own show for years because he never needed me to tell him what he needed; he just needed to be shown how to ask.
N being N needs to learn everything the hard way because he's my kid, and that's the way I learned everything I know.
Hard way or no, he will get there. It's just a matter of not letting him throw up his hands and give up.
Anything he has ever wanted to do, though, he's always figured out a way to do it.
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