that’s life Finally invited to son’s apartment

By Tammy Keith

RIVER VALLEY and OZARK AREA — I finally saw my son’s college apartment, some 2 1/2 months after he moved in.

It makes me feel like a bad mother to admit that, but there you are.

It might not be so embarrassing if he didn’t live three miles from our house.

His freshman year was a different story. I cleaned his room, happily shopped for dorm supplies and sat on the twin bed reliving my college days with his roommate’s mother, my friend, until our sons threw us out.

Oh, what a difference a year makes.

He was going to live at home this year, because he thought the college had forgotten to assign him roommates in the campus apartments.

He found out at the last minute he was assigned three roommates.

I didn’t have to buy much this time - he and his roommates had it covered.

He told me, in no uncertain terms, I was not invited over on move-in day.

I was busy anyway. I have a life, you know.

As time went by, I still didn’t get “invited,” and for some reason, I didn’t just drop in. (That’s totally unlike me, because I’m not known for having a lot of boundaries.)

I did go by one day and knock on the apartment door, but no one was there. Well, no one answered.

The day before his birthday, I got my big chance. A friend had given him an original duck painting.

He was feeling magnanimous, I guess, and said I could come over to see it.

I actually took a wrong turn and got a little lost trying to find his apartment complex.

When he called me, I threw out the “well-you-never-invite-me-over” excuse.

He apologized several times for how messy the apartment was, because he said they usually keep it pretty straight.

They had a record player - a RECORD player! And albums! I felt a surge of nostalgia.

It really wasn’t bad. I’ve seen a lot worse - when I dated guys in college and went to their apartments.

When I really liked the guy, I cleaned his apartment. Especially the bathtub, even though I was never going to use it.

What is it about guys and bathtubs? How can they stand to stand in them?

I went upstairs in John’s apartment and met the roommate who actually shares his room. He was a nice guy - a Chinese student who is working on his master’s. Gotta love that. He complimented John as a good guy and roommate. Score.

I offered to do my son’s laundry - just because it was almost his birthday - and fought the urge to ask his roommate if I could do his. (That might have been a little weird.) When I was leaving, I peeked in their bathroom.

There it was - the shower curtain from the black lagoon.

I yelled in horror.

I asked if I could buy a new one.

I guess girls are smarter these days and don’t clean the apartments of their boyfriends.

So, I’ll be back.

But I remembered something. My husband teaches on that campus. And he’s never been in our son’s apartment at all.

Now who’s the bad parent?

River Valley Ozark, Pages 143 on 11/08/2009