So, it's been a bit of a...momentous whirlwind...for the youngest member of Team WestEnders, who celebrated his 14th birthday, attended Freshman Orientation, and kicked off his High School career...all within a span of 4 days. (I don't know about him, but I'M exhausted--can we have another weekend now, please? I don't think I've ever said this before in my entire life, but seriously, Labor Day cannot come soon enough...)
Since it felt as though August had been rattling along like a runaway train, the first sign that Riley's birthday was approaching honestly came in a less-than-special way...with his annual check-up at the doctor's. (Hey, it can't ALL be cake and ice cream, ya know...which is too bad, really...although at least this was a "shot-free" year, so there's that little bright spot...) It was pretty routine, since he's (knocking on wood) generally very healthy and we had nothing unusual to report. There were even a few laughs, believe it or not--like when they measured his pulse, and it was...48 beats per minute. Riley didn't understand why the nurse and I seemed so amazed, until she explained that, "If you were a, let's say "not very fit" adult, and we saw that number...we'd be resuscitating you right now!" So, yeah, all that soccer is apparently paying off, in terms of his cardiac function.
The second chuckle moment came when the doctor examined a bump that has recently developed on Riley's leg, proclaimed that it was caused by a minor case of bacterial growth (obviously NOT the amusing part yet) and prescribed a "topical antibiotic" to help speed up the healing. It wasn't until we were discussing this in the car on the way home that Riley sighed resignedly and said, "Well, at least I'm used to taking a pill twice a day, after my foot injury." I turned to him to see if he was joking, and when it was clear he wasn't I replied, "Um, sweetie? 'Topical' means you rub it on the wound." His face brightened in comprehension and he exclaimed, "Oh! I'd never heard it used that way before...I thought he just meant that the medicine was 'relevant' to the infection!" (Hahahahahaha! So you get your skin cleared up, and a new vocabulary word...B-O-N-U-S!)
Now that he'd passed his physical, we could safely move on to the more exciting topic of how to help him enjoy his birthday...which somehow morphed into a multi-event endeavor. First he went to a Carolina Courage match (women's professional soccer) with Derek--each of them inviting one friend along. Next we had the family Durham Bulls game, to which he was also allowed to bring a buddy. Finally, Husband plans to take the boys to a zip-lining adventure park, so they can....I don't know...swing around in the trees like monkeys, or something. (Can you tell that this is very much NOT a "me" thing? Yeah, I'll be at home, feet planted firmly on the ground...drinking coffee and reading a good book. And everyone will be happy...)
As for actual "presents", Riley informed us that he didn't particularly want anything this year. So...it was an extra-nice surprise when Derek went behind his back and secretly ordered him a t-shirt printed with the name and club of his favorite international men's soccer player. Then as his actual birthday got closer, Riley did waffle a little bit, and decided that maybe he could use another baseball cap. When I started to tell Derek about this, he interrupted me with, "Hold on, I know exactly what he said: his UNC hat is to wear while playing sports, and it gets sweaty, so it can't be used for anything else. His Costa Rica hat is his favorite, and it's for special occasions, so he doesn't want to mess it up. He needs one other hat, to wear when he's just hanging out with friends, being casual."
I sat there and gaped at him, momentarily speechless, because he'd just recreated, practically VERBATIM, the monologue that Riley had delivered when explaining why he wished to add to his hat collection. Utterly pleased with himself and with my reaction, he finished smugly, "See? Riley and I are close!" (Well, yes--yes, you are. Thanks for the irrefutable proof, son...) In the end, we let him pick out a Bulls hat for us to buy him while we were at the stadium, so it worked out well for all concerned.
And then, Sunday rolled around, and....9th grade suddenly sprang upon us. Riley took care of some routine preliminary tasks: loading up his (new, super-sized, "serious academic High School student") backpack, gathering his soccer supplies for practice, planning what to bring for his lunch and snacks. Then came the question mark items, such as "when will the bus come to pick me up?" and "Where do I go for 1st period?" (since his brother had mentioned in passing that the schedule is typically rearranged on Day One, to accommodate a homeroom slot that isn't part of the regular agenda).
Beyond this, however, Derek was unable to offer any further details or, you know, "helpful information". In fact, when Riley conveyed his concern about the transportation issue, Derek shrugged and gave a response something along the lines of, "Eh, I was hoping YOU'D figure that out...and tell ME!" (Can I just pause here for a second and express the following: Oh. My. Freakin'. Gosh. There are times that this beloved child of mine crosses the line from "delightfully laid-back" to "would you please, for the love of Pete, stop drifting blithely along on your pillowy cloud of 'whatever...it'll all work out'...and get your...butt...in gear?") Needless to say, he did NOT come to his brother's rescue, in terms of reducing Riley's night-before-school anxiety.
Fortunately, I already knew how to find the necessary facts, using the website--which also revealed that there was an alternative bus stop that hadn't existed before this year, so it was a good thing I checked for him after all...and kept Derek in the loop (Sigh...). So that was one crisis narrowly averted--but the true emotional turmoil was still to come. You see, Riley admitted to being struck by some pre-High-School jitters at the last minute, and was worried about the next day. Like me, he prefers to know as much as possible before facing any situation, in order to feel comfortable and on-top of...stuff. Therefore the vast unknowns presented by a different campus (with four buildings...and trailers!), hordes of strangers, an unfamiliar class structure, and seven new courses, all combined to overwhelm the poor kid--before he even arrived to jump into his Freshman year.
But because he chose to share his nervousness with me, we were able to talk it through and--I believe--alleviate some of his qualms. One conclusion he came to on his own was that, if he got lost in the hallways, he'd look for one of the Tiger Links (who'd be wearing their distinctive shirts, to make them stand out for just such emergencies) and ask for directions. He also engaged in a flurry of text conversations with some of his pals to discuss such important topics as: "where to meet for lunch" and "which gym we should go to for our homeroom session". See? Look at that-- you're already problem-solving this whole "High School Novice" challenge! Whoo hoo! You've totally got this, kiddo, and I'm 100% confident that you'll be able to handle anything you may face. Let me just offer one teensy piece of advice, if you don't mind...whatever you do...if you're not sure about something...don't ask your brother! (Bless his little pea pickin' heart...)
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