My Son Yelled at Me

Eighteen years is a long time to take care of someone. Long enough that you've made it a habit. Perhaps it's because Nick is my youngest, but I do have trouble remembering that he's almost a full grown man.

You'd think the fact that he's 6'2" would remind me.

At any rate, he has taken to occasionally reminding me that he's not a child anymore. Yesterday was one of those times.

Things have gotten a little busy lately. We're going to be gone most of next week for a wedding. You'll read more about that next week, but suffice it to say that one of my other sons is going to great lengths to remind me that he's all grown up now too. The day after we get back, we have a big all day event at church. Four days after that we head to Alabama for an ordination, then another wedding at our church, followed by a week of Vacation Bible School. Needless to say, things have gotten a little crazy around here.

We've been working long hours and running to and fro trying to get everything done on time. So it was already after seven when Nick and I left the church. We made a quick stop at the store and then headed home where I was going to drop Nick off so he could start dinner while I went to pick up Joel from work.

It was a great plan until we pulled into the driveway and parked by the back porch. Everyone's vehicle was gone so we knew no one was home, but the back door was wide open.

I got on the phone with Luke to find out how recently he'd left the house and if he thought he might have left the door open, although that would be unusual for him. But while I was on the phone, Nick got out of the car and ordered me (ordered, mind you!) to wait in the car while he checked things out.

I'm not accustomed to taking orders from my children, even if they are mostly grown, so I got out of the car and followed him up on the porch. Nick grabbed a large stick that was nearby and headed for the door, pausing long enough to order me again to wait outside.

I was still talking to Luke on the phone, and he was pretty sure he had closed the door when he left. With the phone pressed to my ear, I opened the screen door and followed Nick into the laundry room. This time he glared at me over his shoulder and hissed whisper-shouted, "I told you to stay outside! Someone's in here!" And then he disappeared into the kitchen.

Before I could move forward or back or even say anything, Nick came back with his dad. It seems my husband had come home before us, but his motorcycle was already put away in the garage so we didn't know he was there. Nick had seen a light on in the master bedroom just before he whisper-shouted at me.

I was not a fan of Nick trying to check out the house on his own, but I have to admit I'm not sure what alternative I could have suggested. I didn't want him going in alone, but I knew better than to try and insist that he wait outside while I tried to clear the house.

I guess I'll just have to get used to the idea that my protectors include people whose diapers I use to change.

I feel so safe now.

So, how are you doing with this whole growing up/raising kids thing?