This week I was pretty sure my college kid was going to starve to death. She's got her own place with her own kitchen, and the responsibility to buy and cook her own food--for the first time. I took her shopping last weekend to get her started. Bought her the basics. Prayed she remembered how to use them.
Then I got home and realized we hadn't bought salad dressing. Got the lettuce. Forgot the salad dressing. What was my child going to do with the lettuce? I mean, no salad dressing? HOW WAS SHE GOING TO EAT HER SALAD? She was going to shrivel up and die of malnutrition. SHE WAS!
So I texted her. Asked if she wanted me to rush right down there (she's 3 cities away) with a life saving bottle of Ranch. I mean, I could do that! I'm a mother! It's what we do! We sacrifice for our offspring! We bring them salad dressing so they don't have to eat their leafy greens naked! (The greens. Not the child. We assume our children are fully clothed when eating leafy greens. We do. We assume nudity is not involved. At all. AND I DON'T WANT TO HEAR ANY COMMENTS ABOUT YOUR MEMORIES OF PLAYING STRIP-SALAD IN YOUR COLLEGE DAYS! MY KID DOES NOT DO THAT!) *ahem*
She texted me back. Informed me that she does, in fact, prefer her salads, er, au naturel. She had not purchased salad dressing . . . on purpose.
So I went about my business, cleaning the house. Scrubbing toilets. Organizing my child's leftover shoes according to shade and toe-pointyness. And that's when I remembered.
WE DIDN'T GET HER ANY MEAT. Which means my child has no protein in her diet. HOW IS SHE GOING TO SURVIVE WITHOUT PROTEIN IN HER DIET? HER MUSCLES WILL SHRINK AND ATROPHY! I HAVE TO TAKE HER A BACON DOUBLE--CHEESEBURGER RIGHT NOW! PLUS A SIDE OF BEEF!
I got a text explaining that she and her roommates hadn't quite worked out the whole cooking-thing yet, and she'd let me know when they did. She would ask any meat-purchasing questions at that time, because remember, she had worked all summer. She had the money to buy her own food. In the meantime, she could eat meat for lunch at the on-campus eatery. Because after all, that is where the elite meet to eat meat.
Ah. I see.
Sooo. She won't die then. That's good.
I mean, I wouldn't want her to worry.
Like my son. The one who was supposed to come home today in time to get the car and pick up his younger sib, because I was going to be at a meeting--in fact would be gone before he ever got there--and take the little dude to his lessons on time. Without my help. Or nagging. I'm pretty sure he worries about stuff like that.
He needn't have. He totally got there on time.
He's more capable than he thinks.
I know that.