Looking out for numero uno

This morning I had to have a talk with my son.  I see in him a trait that I learned too late in life to reign in – the need to save everyone but myself.  Over the past two weeks he has been taking care of everyone but himself.  For instance, he played cupid and hooked up two of his best friends and now they are a couple who wants to come to my house and hang out all day and night snuggled up in each other’s arms on my couch.  Meanwhile, my son had studying and chores and other important things to do but he was too busy playing hostess and chaperone to them.  I had planned to spend the afternoon walking around in my drawls and then I wanted to take us out to dinner last night because I didn’t feel like cooking.  I told him this via text message, lol (the dinner part, not the drawls thing), and he assured me that his friends would be leaving soon.  So I waited in my bedroom.  An hour passed and my stomach was flipping and flopping, just outright having a tantrum, so I texted him again and said “do you just want to order a pizza for all of us?” but he insisted that his friends had eaten already and would be leaving soon.  ANOTHER hour passed and I was losing patience so I walked into the kitchen to fix myself a snack.  On the way, I peeked into the living room and saw my son sitting in the chair watching television while his friends were snuggled up together on my couch.  They did not appear to be leaving soon.  Ugh.  I took my yogurt back to my bedroom to brood.  By 8pm my shows were on and I damn sure didn’t want to leave the house but I was determined to eat something that my hands did not prepare so, after about 5 or 6 more text messages, I gave up and went to Carl’s Jr.  “Where are you going, mom?” he asked me as I grabbed my keys and was heading out the door. “I’ll be back,” I said, and split.  Those damn love bird friends of his didn’t leave until 9:30pm when my son and his guy friend walked his girl friend home.  Then he texts me from her house “Hey mom, Kayla’s mom hasn’t met Khyron yet so she’s making us food and wants to talk to him for a while.”  Exasperated, I told him that he’d better be home by 10:30 and not a minute later.  I couldn’t keep my eyes open any longer so I fell asleep, but at 10:30 on the nose my son came to wake me up to ask me if Khyron could spend the night.  His grandmother promised to pick them both up in the morning and take them to school.  Fine.  I like Grandma Betty and Khyron, and I’m sure poor Grandma Betty didn’t feel like climbing out of her bed either, to come and pick Khyron up at 10:30.  But then, at 1:30am, I woke up and saw lights on in the living room.  “Khryon wanted to talk,” Miles told me.  “If you don’t take your butt to bed…!” I yelled. “Y’all have to be at school in 6 hours.”  Meanwhile, my sleep rhythm was all off and I was irritable.  Then, at 4am I had to pee and noticed that the TV was on in the living room.  Khryon had it on mute but the flashing light was still a bother.  Is this kid afraid of the dark? I wondered.  I turned off the tube on my way back from the bathroom and crawled back into bed with a million thoughts on my mind, and with every intention to have a talk with my son about his responsibility to himself.  Dios mio, what a night.  The only reason I didn’t flip all the way out is because the test he needs to study for is tomorrow and he did a bit of studying the day before yesterday (prior to having his friends over) and can do more tonight.  But this morning I told him that he’s going to have to put everyone else on the backburner until school is out and move himself to the forefront.  No more of this fixing people up like he’s Chuck Woolery.  I want my house back and I want my son to take better care of himself.  And I want the option to walk around in my drawls, an old oversized t-shirt, and some mismatched socks.