Coolness Is Relative

Everybody in South Carolina says, “Welcome to our muggy summer weather” like it’s going to be a shock. I resist laughing condescendingly when I reply, “It’s all relative. I know you don’t believe me but compared to the Gulf Coast right now, this weather feels cool and dry.”

No, it’s not the weather that’s an adjustment. The part I wondered if I could handle, especially after a recent year of living completely alone, is this: full submersion into a culture of testosterone that includes two teenage boys.

The things I counted on while preparing included these, which I’d come to refer to as “self-preservation:” a brand new mountain bike (on which to escape when necessary); an MP3 player (with which to drown out the noises of death and destruction emanating from the X-Box); Harry Potter (in which to both immerse myself for distraction as well as use as a conversation point with everyone in the house, all of whom had read and enjoyed the entire series); and shared custody (they go to their mother’s this Sunday!).

I am happy to report that it’s been easier and better than anticipated. We hang around the house, work a couple hours a day building a backyard deck, then read books and play games. As expected when left to their own devices, Sage (15), PJ (13) and River (8) will play mind-numbing video games until the end of time, but when given directions and specific tasks, they are surprisingly helpful and involved. Paul's good about giving them limits.

On the deck project, Sage showed his true typically teenage colors, meaning he mostly grumbled and pointed out flaws. His favorite pastime seems to be hanging back and waiting for somebody to mess something up. “It’s kinda wobbly,” was one exceedingly unhelpful observation he made. “Is it supposed to do that?”

The younger boys are less critical but require more direction. (A degree in education comes in handy here.) Yesterday I taught PJ (and his buddy BJ) how to use a drill. I had no idea what an extremely superb idea this would turn out to be, but their enthusiasm for the project increased tenfold once a power tool was introduced. They surprised me by being more polite to each other than they had been all day, taking turns with the drill, offering each other encouragement like “Good job” and “Nice one” with each well-placed screw.

I got River involved in counting out screws, pulling nails out of the 2x4s, and sorting the wood. The best part for him seemed to be being allowed to collect the sawed off ends of the 2x4s, which he has since stored in his room to use for some unspecified project. He frequently disappears inside for cooling off periods (because if you’re not just arrived from Corpus Christi, TX, it is, in fact, hot here.) I’m fairly certain River uses our busyness as an opportunity to hang out on his dad’s bed watching cartoons. (The sawdust he leaves on the bedspread next to the remote control is my clue.)

In the evenings, Paul and I have been cooking together, and so it is less like a chore and more like a fun bonding activity. We make a great team as he creates tried and true favorites like baked ziti and chicken pot pie, while I dream up creative and enticing ways to sneak fresh vegetables into their diets. After dinner, the kids load the dishwasher and then we all go for a jog or a bike ride. And on one sort of long car ride to complete errands, I had a brilliant solution for quashing crankiness: "I'm going to Hogwarts and taking an Animagus..." It brought an end to the fussing and we made it all the way to H for hippogriff, leaving us open to continue the game on the next long car ride. (Harry Potter makes himself useful in more ways than one!)

The biggest lesson so far is that my coolness, about which I had grown very confident, is in fact a relative thing.

WHAT?!?!?

I had been so sure that I’d successfully worked my way to the cool end of the spectrum, what with the low rise blue jeans, my competence at surfing and my cool collection of Sheryl Crow CDs, that discovering the fluctuating nature of my coolness was a shock.

This painful point was driven home when I put on what I consider to be the very pinnacle of cool - a Stevie Ray Vaughn CD - and overheard PJ apologize to BJ. “Sorry you have to listen to this, Man,” he said with total sincerity.

WHAT?!?!?