What My Son Has to Say

Yesterday my son told me I complained too much on my blog. He didn't mind me complaining about social issues, he said, but I complained too much about his dog. I will admit that I would prefer the dog stay alive and happy even if it means I have to keep cleaning up his messes. I know I have a nice life, dur. And when I'm complaining/whining, I recognize that I'm not usually looking at the proper flip side.

For example, my son is returning to college tomorrow. I will miss him and feel sad. But the converse would be my son not returning to college, and no matter how I think about it that would be worse. I  have friends whose kids are a bit confused right now about what to do with their time, and others who are struggling with their grades or health problems or money or other stuff that I'm not having to deal with, as my son drives off to his very nice, well-equipped, competitive university, where he did quite well as a freshman while minimizing his involvement in stupid stuff. Which I can't thank him enough for, really.

So. Poor me, I'm sad. Because of how excellent my life is. I'm sure you see the conundrum.

Also poor me, my schedule is so overcrowded with GOOD STUFF like having friends over to drink wine or riding my horse or writing future bestsellers that I haven't had time to do laundry and my children are growing up and leaving home because they're healthy and smart and doing well, and so I mostly do see my son's point. I know I don't see it all the time, particularly not when I leave my office door open for two minutes and the dog sneaks in and pees on my rug (*cough cough* yesterday *cough cough*). But yeah. I'll get there. With luck, my son will too.