About a month ago, when I knew I would be faced with a work-related out-of-town trip, I was tying myself into knots trying to figure out how to get more heat into the house. My son asked me for something, and I explained that right now, getting supplemental heat installed was my priority because I didn't want him dependent upon wood while I was gone. Following conversation ensued:
him: "Well. [long pause] How are we heating the house now?"
me: "With wood."
him: "But it's freezing out!"
me: "But it's not freezing inside."
him: "How long has this been going on?"
me: "Since January."
him: "oh"
me:
I was beyond befuddled that he did not realize this. He knew the boiler had failed. He knew it had not been repaired. He helped carry wood in all last winter. He started and tended numerous fires. And yet, he did not know that this is how we were heating the house. I shared this story with a few parents of teenagers, and they howled in laughter, while nodding in recognition.
Spent the subsequent month trying to figure out how to get some additional heat in here so that he wouldn't be dependent upon wood, and following up each Toyo/Monitor lead in CL, hanging out on the forum seeking advice on the various options, and finally thought I had all the pieces in place. Someone had some refurbished oil-fired, direct-vent units available for sale, and did installation, and knew my timeline and said he could help. The date came and went for getting it in, and my son told me it wasn't a problem, he could keep the house warm with the wood stove, and I reconciled myself reluctantly to that.
I started to talk to him about how to clean out the ashes, and the different burning characteristics of the wood we had, and the need to get wood inside and warm and drying for a few days before it was burned, and how to regulate the stove, and burn cycles. All things that I felt he was fairly familiar with, but after that conversation earlier, I took nothing for granted, and bombarded him with information. When I started yet another conversation with, "And one more thing . . . " he finally said, "Look, I know most of this, and if I have questions, I can always call you."
Oh. Right.
Fast forward to Tuesday morning when the phone rings at 6:20 in my hotel room. "Mom, IT'S FREEZING IN HERE! It's 52 degrees and I can't get this stove to throw off any heat!" And suddenly the ears were open, and the mind engaged. Over the course of the next three days, we had several interesting conversations in which he was eventually explaining to me the burning characteristics of our various woods, and how to regulate the stove, and burn cycles. Even on the night that it dropped to -10 outside, he was on top of things.
Every day when he came home from school in previous weeks, I'd remind him to feed the dog as soon as he got home. Each evening when I got home, I'd ask him if he'd fed the dog, and he would tell me he'd forgotten. When he was on his own, he fed the dog late on Monday. Monday night, she woke him up in the night and explained that she needed to go outside, and would need to be let back in shortly thereafter. Tuesday night, he fed the dog as soon as he got home from school, and both got a good night's sleep, and this policy continued for the rest of the week.
I had people criticize and question my decision to leave him in charge of the house last year when I had to travel, and again this time (it's an annual necessity). The assumption was that this would be an opportunity he would use to be irresponsible. In fact, I found the opposite: he rose to the occasion. He managed to feed himself, the dog, the cat, to get himself back and forth to school (slept in one day, not good), and keep the house warm-ish. I came home yesterday to find the kitchen cleaner than I left it, and the wood rack full, and the stove intact and burning secondaries, and the glass cleaner than I managed to keep it. He explained to me that if he left the damper cracked just a little, the glass didn't get dirty.
It's hard to step back, especially in light of their obvious mental lapses, and release responsibility into the hands of the young. Yet that was how we learned, and this appears to be how these kids will learn, too.
Take heart knowing that you will have yet another great story to tell your grandchildren about their father, and trust that somehow, when the time comes that these people are running the world, things are going to be okay. Or sorta, anyway. This one, to my amazement, can now whip a tie on in less than a minute, requested the purchase of a belt, and enjoys the shine on his new dress shoes. Two years ago, I had to fight the urge to give an easy tug and pants him when he walked past. They somehow come together. We just have to figure out how not to age prematurely while they do.
