His Royal Highness, the Prince of Darkness-

There are only two lasting legacies we can hope to give our children. One of these is roots; the other, wings.”- Hodding Carter

May 2010
My son is back for the summer. Looking at him, all tall and lanky, I realized the changes that occurred. He is more confident (or is it cocky?) and yet forthright in the revelations he professed he has had while away. Unfortunately, one of those revelations meant he is back to stay with Mom and Dad while he figures out where he is going next. He found the Midwest to be too monochromatic. He acknowledged that his mother’s choice of college for him was also his, but he went against her wishes to prove his “independence.”

Well, enough of the independence. He breached a clause in the contract we made him sign; that clause states that if he caused his out-of-state college pursuit to change by his own doing, then he would matriculate in our state's State University and pay his own way for a semester at the community college until he is transferred to the State U. As it turned out, the State is on a first come-first served basis for transferees so he needs to wait for the Spring semester in December.

Much to his disappointment and to ours as well, we all have to live together this summer and the Fall semester while he toils at the community college, waiting to leave in December. He successfully took two courses this summer to jumpstart his “out of ‘rents sight” pursuit of college.

Most people agree that college is an overwhelming place to hone one’s skills in critical thinking, scientific reasoning, communicating, prioritizing, among other things. College teaches a student how to learn. It is a place to celebrate the lack of parental intrusion/control, parental nagging, a place to party, and learn to hug the toilet bowl on weekends.

When we left my son in the Midwest, I had the sinking feeling that he was not ready to be independent. I was wrong; he was so independent that he never sought our advice on anything. While this is good on some areas; it failed in many more. He avoided calling us; would not respond to our emails; and basically got himself independently distracted and independently lost amongst the more than 22,000 kids in the campus. Along the way, he concluded that there’s more to life than getting wasted; more to life than assuming you are doing well just getting by. I strongly believe that he would have been much happier if there were such a thing called MonteSorri University, where one can pursue courses in “Debate Anybody in English,” “Passive Aggression is the New Rebellion,” “Debit Card Sets You Free,” and an elective called "Texting for Ijots."

My son decided he did not like the Midwest enough to want to go back; his political views differed from theirs, he missed the diversity of Washington, DC. The first text message I received upon his return was, “Mom, there is this homeless guy screaming about his false teeth in the Metro. I love D.C.!” He did come home more agreeable to ideas, surprised about the things he found out about himself and his views of the world. We were glad for this apparent quasi maturity. Based upon his choice to continue his studies back home, we discussed the implications of this change of heart. He seemed to be fine with the outcome. Meanwhile, he learned to cook at home and worked as a summer intern in the US Senate.

July 2010

Midway through the summer, everyone in our household came to some level of stress. My son was no longer cooking at this time but he continues the eating, or shall I say the vacuuming of food. The kitchen has turned into a “killing field,” as in “Mom, can I kill all these ribs?” “Shall I kill the grilled chicken?”

Faced with the fact that he is going to be living at home for a full semester, before he can go back safely to the “You don’t have to bathe if you are wearing body deodorant" culture in the dorm, he has become impatient. The eye rolling started again and before long I was telling him that if he is annoyed to be around me, that the feeling is mutual. However, we still had to continue to parent the prince of darkness (PoD). He seems to come alive at night, socializing until the first hour of the morning with his posse. I see him briefly in the mornings before he and I go to work. On weekends, we don’t see him until later in the afternoon when he comes out to “kill his lunch” and sometimes, part of ours too.

Very recently, the time has come for us to exercise, yet again, our “parental control” in his choice of subjects to ensure that they can be transferred to the state university. The university is situated about three hours from our home so that he will still be safely "away" from us. But he is not leaving any time soon. At the earliest, he will be attending the state U beginning January 2011. He did not appreciate our guidance. It came to a head one evening when we were insisting that a certain class will not work they way it is scheduled. He told us that we are doing nothing but controlling his life. Hurtful words were exchanged. He told us that we are annoying, and that whenever he is done with college and successful, he would never have anything to do with us.

It hurts to hear this from your child, let alone your only child, the center of your universe for the last 18 years. When I have calmed down, I told him “When you are done with college and you do not want to have anything to do with me nor your Dad, that is just fine. You can forget all about us.“ His Dad plainly told him that his statement has fundamentally hurt our relationship with him but that regardless, we love him and want him to succeed. I find it ironic that we would still finance his college pursuit so that he can disown us afterwards. What joy!

I would have never dreamt of saying something hurtful to my parents. When I left Manila, my mother told me that leaving would lead me to great opportunities. I left with a heavy heart because I was leaving the warmth and the security of my mother’s and my family’s support. I was going to join my Dad and the rest of my family in the USA, who I have not seen in decades. I was all of nineteen then, the same age as my son's this year.

The most disrespectful thing I had the audacity to utter to my mother, in my Dad’s presence was an innocuous “Pambihira naman!” (You’re unbelievable!) and I found myself kissing a step of our stairs with my Dad’s hand pushing my head. He said, “Don’t you ever, ever disrespect your mother with that tone of voice.” I now hear my Mom’s voice when I warn my son, “Do not use that tone of voice on me.”

The American way is to get the child out of the house when they reach the age of 18, which is the age they can vote but not drink where we live. But it is considered generally the age when they can be on their own. My husband said there is no wonder why 18 year olds make good soldiers. They have so much anger in them that they would shoot anyone who pisses them off. But I am not a drill sergeant who can tell this arrogant asshole of a recruit to shut up and do as I say. “Do you love your Momma piojo?” (louse, Spanish) “Yes sir I love my Momma.” “The Air Force does not need another mama’s boy. "You a mama’s boy, piojo?” Indeed, there might be some wisdom into letting children move out of their parents’ home at 18. They can either go to college where they could be in the company of other angry and lazy kids or take a menial job and do nothing but complain about how their jobs “suck.”

"Here is the deal," as I am known to say: The kid will stay with us for the next semester. He would continue on to the out-of-town state U in the Spring. If he decides to stay around, he has to find a job where he might ask the following things:

1) Sorry that DVD is out of stock. Thanks for shopping Good Buy. Have a good day.
2) What size of soda do you want with your meal? Have a good day.
3) Sign the receipt on this line please. Thanks for shopping Tuesday Evenings, Have a good day.
4) Do you want a regular or deluxe wash? Under car wash? Ok, fine. Have a good day.

Or, none of the above. But he will need to move out. We will no longer tolerate the stink of piled laundry or the half-hour full blast hot showers! He can join the Peace Corps, the Air Force, the Navy but not the Army nor the Marines. I want to be proud of my son but not in a box covered with the American flag. I want to miss him but not miss him for eternity.

On this note, I wish him well and when he is done with “searching for himself,” but not at my or his father’s expense, he may decide that college is not a bad thing after all. As sure as the sun rises, we and our family and friends, and the whole village will be there to help the Prince of Darkness come out in the light.