This is when being a single parent is so difficult. I don't have the confidence to know when to hold on and when to let go.
I have no husband to tell me,"Leave him alone. He's 25. Old enough to make his own decisions."
Or, "Let him fail this once. He needs to learn that you are not always going to be there to help make things right."
Or, "You've a right to be upset. You need to set more boundaries."
Or, "Let me handle this."
My son lives in Philadelphia. He has a good job in real estate and seems to enjoy his life outside NY. But if I'm honest with myself, I really know little of his life.
I don't know his friends.
I've never seen his apartment; I work weekends and he works weekdays.
I've never met any of his colleagues from work.
And I don't know Philadelphia.
So while I can imagine his life there, I don't really know his life there.
It's not like when my son lived at home. Then, I knew all his friends, and was even friendly with many of his friends' mothers. I knew his school. His teachers. And mostly what he did when he wasn't studying.
Now I have no idea. But in some ways, I worry less.
I don't know when he goes out, so I needn't worry when he's not home by a certain hour. But when he visits, I do.
Maybe I watch too much Dateline and Investigation Discovery. Alexander has no curfew. I just expect he'll text me if he's going to be very late. — a courtesy he keeps forgetting.
Alexander comes home Friday tonight and goes straight to his friend's Sam house.
I go to sleep around midnight and awake around three to an empty house. I text Alexander at 2:59, and two more times within the hour.
He doesn't respond.
And there's nothing I can do except worry, and imagine a million different scenarios with none of them ending well. Alexander is 25; he doesn't understand a mother's worry.
My son finally arrives safely home around five. He's fine; I'm not.
And I still don't know the answer to my question: Am I too protective or not protective enough?
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