fafo

My college boyfriend Bob, with whom I'm still in touch, tells me recently about an article in the WSJ describing an increasingly popular method of parenting. FAFO, or more specifically, F*ck Around and Find Out. In other words, actions have consequences.

As a single mom, I know I haven't been the sternest. And yes, second, third and fourth chances are more my nature than not. But now I am trying to adopt a more FAFO approach. I know it's a bit late, as my son is almost 33.

After living in Austin for over two years, Alexander decides to leave his job, and to come back East to think about his next steps. He ultimately decides that he loves New York (surprise, surprise) and gets a great job, then a great apartment in a brownstone on the UWS. 

People move out of 10,000 sq. foot houses in less time it takes for my son to move his stuff out of his room in my apartment.

One day, I take out all his things. Clothes he might want. Linens he might need. Blankets (so many from both his high school and college years). Old notebooks with stories he once wrote. Books he never read. Books he did read. And a million odds and ends. 

I am pretty neat and my apartment is pretty small. My son's room is easily seen from my living room. It's not a good look.

Alexander's new lease starts on July 1 and I generously give him until September 1 to move his stuff out. After that, I tell him, "Anything still in the room is mine to keep, give away or donate."

As the date approaches, he calls and begs for an extension which I give him: September10.

He tells me he'll "swing by" tonight, making this removal job sound like a five-minute task. He arrives late. Orders and buys dinner for both of us. Watches some Entourage reruns. And then  begins to sort through his stuff.  He makes good progress. But then decides he doesn't want to do it anymore and will have to come back another time to finish up.

I'm happy to have the room mostly back. And glad Alexander has reason to return in a few days.