September means we're close to my favorite time of year.  Only a few more weeks of hot weather before the leaves begin to change and fall.  Sweatshirt weather.  Summer is flying by, and I can't say I'm unhappy to see it go.  I haven't felt well for a while now, but I'm praying the worst is over.

The anticipation of the first shades of Autumn have me thinking back to times when the most important thing was the upcoming football game and struggling through Algebra class.  I know I always had more on my plate than that, but those are the things I want to remember the most.

Leaving the football game and heading toward the cliffs at the falls for hanging out and laughing at those of us choosing to get drunk and act stupid.  We looked out for one another, though.  No one ever left drinking and driving no matter how many lies we had to tell parents or where we had to leave parked cars.  If we didn't go there, we cruised main street and ended up parking behind an old sewing factory making out in our cars.  The area dropped off into a stream, and my boyfriend at the time took great pleasure in grabbing me by my hands and swinging me out over the edge.  It scared the shit out of me, but I never once thought he might drop me.  He could have dropped me.  I was dumb.

I honestly can't believe some of us actually made it to graduation.  There were so many of us testing fate every single day.  I was in a graduating class that broke records in testing scores, its number of honor students, and teens entering into secondary education.  Even our athletes were straight A students.  We totally missed out on the class separation of jocks and geeks.  We were all brainiacs.  We were a smart bunch of little shits, but we were haunted.

We grew up dealing with the bitterness our parents felt toward life.  Most of them felt trapped working for logging companies or coal mines.  The glass ceiling was hardly above the ground.  Especially if you didn't get an education, and most of them didn't.  They were suffocated by ridiculous religious conviction that had turned them into angry scared little people.  They told us from birth that we had to be better than they'd been, but to get above our raising was an insult to what they'd sacrificed for us in this world.  They told us about a life far away from here that we could live if we tried hard enough, but they never really gave us the confidence to believe in ourselves enough to reach it.  We were going to end up working in the same dead end jobs and living the same miserably numb lives.  Their demons, and the ghosts formed from their could-haves and should-haves followed their children.  Did they know?

A small poor southern town.  I wasn't the only one working a full time job to help support my family from the time I was sixteen.  There were several pregnancies.  The smell of pot being smoked on the bus most days was almost unbearabe.  If you didn't want to be high before you ever got to school, you had to ride with your head out the window.  So many of us drank like fish.  There was a guy in my French class who brought vodka in a Mt. Dew bottle to class every single day.  I sat behind him and held him by the back of his shirt so that he wouldn't fall out of his seat.  I can still name kids who went home to houses without food, to abusive parents, to no real parents at all.  I remember names of kids whose parents were so strict and blind to anything and everything around them, they might as well have not been there at all.  Girls with eating disorders and boys with steroid addictions.  For a small southern town, we could have been a hit teen tv drama all on our own.

Every once in a while I'll run into someone from my class, and we'll hug and exchange pleasantries.  We part ways with smiles and goodbyes.  We never talk about the ghosts because if we do, maybe they'll come back.  And if they come back, will they haunt our children?  It's a chance we can't take.

About three months ago the man child decided to become a vegetarian after watching a video on YouTube.  (I hate that freaking site)  The man child who knows everything and doesn't need to take any advice from the old people.  The same one who came storming into the house after school last week, completely panicked because he has dropped 30lbs. off his benchpress weight.  My reply to this?  "What did you think would happen to your muscle mass when you decided to live on peanutbutter sandwiches and lettuce?  Now will you listen to me?"

This provided a very rare situation.  The two of us out together, voluntarily.  It amazes me that everything I've been saying to him was ridiculous until it was repeated  by the chick in the GNC.  It had to be true coming from her.  After all, she had on a fancy nametag and used bigger words than, "No protein, no muscles, dude."

I had fun hanging out with him and running errands.  During one of them, he made a comment about something we were buying and why the woman behind the counter seemed to be more trusting of me than him.  At first I sugarcoated it by saying that it was obviously because I'm an older person, blah blah blah.  He wasn't convinced that was it, so I just admitted that maybe he looked like someone who would shoplift.

He was extremely offended.  I explained that maybe because he was a teenaged boy with an earring, a lip ring, a dark t-shirt with the name of a punk rock band splashed across the front, and shoes with fake fur on them, he might give off the impression of being a little rebellious punk.

He launched into this tirade about how unfair it was to judge him by his appearance.  After all, he's a straight A student who plays football, never breaks curfew, doesn't drink or smoke, or cause trouble of any other kind.

I countered with the statement that obviously it's wrong to judge someone without knowing them first, but to think we all aren't judged by our appearances is ridiculous.  How else are you going to develop an opinion of a total stranger you're going to spend no more than a couple minutes with if not by the impression they give you with their appearance?  A sales clerk in a store isn't going to spend enough time talking with you in order to find out your thoughts and attitudes.  Unfortunately they're left with nothing other than how you look... how you're dressed and possibly whether or not you're a polite person.  It isn't right, but that doesn't keep it from happening.

So I went back to the words he's heard from me so many times I'm sure he has nightmares about them.  I told him that we've allowed him to be his own person with his personal tastes and styles.  We want him to make the statements that are important to him.  But if he feels he's man enough to make bold statements, he has to be adult enough to deal with the fact not everyone is going to understand what he's saying.

That got a grunt and an eyeroll.

Then, not ten minutes later, we pass a kid with the waistband of his jeans almost down to his knees, a nasty baseball cap turned backwards, and untied sneakers with the strings flopping on the floor as he walked.  He was walking all cocky and looked like he'd probably be a little smartass.  Man child makes a comment to that fact, sort off-handedly.  Something about the "tough guy". 

I stopped in the middle of the aisle and just looked at him with my mouth on the floor.  I said, "Did you see what you just did?"  He was obviously confused.  When I pointed out that he had just proven the point of my unwanted, unappreciated lecture, the look that washed over his face will be something I'll remember with great joy for the rest of my life.

The point is, he's learning life's lessons.  Sometimes he even pays attention.  That should make me feel good, but it scares me to death.  He's almost a man.  Soon enough he won't have to ask permission to do things his way.  It's a cold world out there.  Even believing you've done your best just doesn't make a parent feel any better, does it? 

I'm so proud of him.  He's a strong intelligent person.  He has great values and a heart of gold.  He's turned into a confident individual completely comfortable in who he is.  That makes me so happy.  But I know all too well how quickly the world can take your strength, confidence, and individuality and spank your ass with it all.  It's not a hurts so good kind of feeling, either. 

There's no way to protect them from that without convincing them to conform and be what the world wants them to be, is there.  I admit that sometimes a tiny voice in my head whispers the wish that he'd do just that, but I know in my heart how disappointed I'd be if he caved in and became fake.

So what's my plan?  He's thinking about staying home and going to school locally.  How many years can you stay in school, anyway?  How many degrees can one person get in a lifetime?  I'm thinking he should stay right here and find out.

Before I write this, let me say, I'm sorry.  It's just that I need to share the first thing that has made me laugh in days.  Just let me say that the truth is, I may not be registered a Democrat, but if we were sitting and having coffee right now, you'd probably find that I have more than a few Democratic opinions.  There are very few things I disagree with in that party, it's just that those things are so important to me, my convictions will not allow me to align myself with them.  I'm a girl, my emotions are important.  Duh.

Having said that, to wake up to news spots on the upcoming Democratic convention in Colorado directly followed by tornados hitting Colorado, I'm sorry.  I laughed.  I know having a tornado in your state is not funny.  I've had several in the past year or so.  Someone, (Norman, probably) tell me how often a tornado hits Colorado.  Isn't part of it actually in Tornado Alley?  (I'm not giggling, I swear)  Oh and just so you know, even if it had been the Republican convention, I'd have still laughed at the back to back news stories.

Okay, on to more serious things.  Normally I'm extremely intimidated by my lack of spelling ability.  So I second guessed myself on the plural form of "tornado".  When I flipped over to the online Webster, I saw that it's acceptable with or with the "e", and it sort of pissed me off.  Everything is so wishy-washy these days. 

Am I rambling incoherently?  Absolutely.  I had the weekend from hell.  It ended on the upswing, but there were parts that were truly truly the most miserable moments I've had in a very long time.  However, let's just say there's very little in life a hysterical breakdown with a sledge hammer in your hand cannot fix.

The end result?  I have a new working fridge, and the fucker fits into the proper space.

Still no rain or cool air.  Still too hot to sleep at night.  So it should be obvious why I may sound on the verge of needing some couch time and a spot on Oprah.  We have fans, and they keep us cool enough to sleep, but the noise is driving me crazy.

So Monday is starting off with a real bang.  If I can get everyone out of the house without hurting any of them, things will be looking up early!  But let's not get our hopes up just yet.  It's just now time to wake them up.  Let's hope they wake up feeling better than I did.

Cross your dang fingers... for the sake of the children.  Here we go...