Getting used to our new world order in the house. Youngest son has wasted no time in moving himself into his big brother’s room – which is no surprise given his room is “as small as a meatball” as his cousin once described it. It’s a “dog eat dog” world out there and I’m not sure my firstborn child is going to find he’s got a fully functional bedroom on his return.
However, at this point, he doesn’t really care – I don’t think he’s planning on returning any time soon. He’s having WAY too much fun during Freshers Week. It wasn’t like that when I went to university* (cough..*polytechnic) – all I remember in Fresher’s week was signing up for new activities – yoga, sky diving, judo…..now it appears to have taken on a wholly different meaning with every day being another party-fest. SO NOT FAIR. Literally every single night they have something else really really fun to do. HoW MUCH BONDING DO THEY ALL NEED?? Watch this space as they drop one by one with “Fresher’s Flu” – that well known illness caused by too much partying and not enough sleep.
I did receive an email from the Uni before he left requesting that we ensure students don’t turn up with alcohol to keep in their rooms because they seek to promote responsible drinking among all its students. It said “all students will have a programme of social events which will give them access to alcohol. Experience has shown that encouraging students to drink socially and in public places helps to deter drunkenness and dangerous behaviour”.
It’s no wonder I can’t reach him during the day…..I have had to resort to stalking him on Facebook because his “phone home” communication skills have been woefully bad. Last tagged photo I saw was of him wearing a pair of devils horns and holding up a bloodied bandaged finger and then another one of him inadvertently standing in front of a poster that said “Investing in The Future”, which was a worry. “OMG what does he look like?” I said to my two remaining children “and what’s he done to his finger?” – it was agreed that this was probably part of his fancy dress outfit, but just in case, I sent him a text:-
“What have you done to your finger?”
24 hours later I get a reply:-
“Cut it really badly on some glass. Having so much fun”
“Did you need stitches and can you call me tmw please?”
Reply arrived at 4am this morning “no didn’t get stitches, just a deep cut – yeh call u tmw – can u text me to remind me”.
Great. So now I have to text my son to remind him to call him.
That will be how it is now I suspect until Christmas. Sporadic, relatively hopeless contact unless he’s run out of money. I can’t even be sure that he will at some point soon get an urge to come back to his mother’s home cooking because i am a shit cook owing to total lack of interest.
Too late now.