Back-toschool is welcome time

Last year, when my youngest son went off to college I found myself a first-time empty nester. Now, following a rather lengthy summer break, my son has returned to college life and I have regained my empty nesting status.

No longer a rookie, I have readapted quickly to a household without children. Sure, I miss my son and our regular evening chats. But like most parents, as much as I love having my college student home during the summer, as much as I even prefer having him under my roof, I felt ready for him to return to school.

In fact, ready might not be the proper word. If I’m being honest, the proper word would be anxious. Because having a college-age child in your house can kinda get on your nerves, particularly after a period of months.

I want to clarify that my son is not a partier. He’s responsible, polite, mature, funny and smart. I truly enjoy his company.

What I don’t like is that aura of indolence that often shrouds teenagers during the summer. That is, a general lack of productivity that starts out as a benign, somewhat comical air of laziness in spring and, over the course of the next three months mushrooms into full-fledged slothfulness.

You know sloth? One of the seven deadly sins? I imagine it’s deadly because without school to break the habit a parent might be tempted to commit violent acts against her children.

It’s not that my son didn’t do anything productive this summer. He took a class, worked part-time, went out pretty regularly with his friends, and accompanied us on several vacations. He even helped out with chores when I asked.

But he also spent a lot of time playing video games. And there’s something about a teenager playing video games for hours on end that could fray the nerves of any parent.

Worst of all, when I complain about it, my son inevitably pulls out story after story of friends, acquaintances or someone he’s just heard about who has played video games for entire days. Or more.

“You think I’m bad?” he’ll say, “My friend’s cousin only sleeps two hours a day and spends the other 22 hours playing video games.”

I am grateful my son’s not sacrificing his eight hours of sleep for the sake of gaming. That being said, we’re setting the bar pretty low with that cousin.

Personally, I’ve never met anyone who plays video games for 22 hours at a stretch (probably

because they never leave their homes and are therefore difficult to encounter outside of the virtual world). What I do know is that young men commonly engage in lengthy, somewhat excessive bouts

of gaming. I know this because I talk to other parents, none of whom has yet to confess to being in any way related to that aforementioned cousin.

But summer’s not about productivity, at least not for my son. And, in some ways I get it. College is difficult and stressful, and summer is a time to break away from that stress and

have different experiences.

And, contrarily, fall is a time to when all parents can breathe a sigh of relief because the books come out and the video games get paused. Or, at least if our college students are gaming obsessively we aren’t witnessing it firsthand.

I guess I should be grateful for video games.

They have, after all, made my return to empty nesting a rather pleasant experience. The quiet I hear all through the halls of my house — that’s not the sound of emptiness. It means that several hours away my son is walking to classes, buying books and studying his lab notes. Is he still gaming? Sure, but he is also engaged in college

life and all the challenges and opportunities that presents.

Besides, this year, when my son calls me to complain about all the work he has to do — so overwhelming he hardly has time for anything else — I’m going to tell him about the cousin of a friend of mine who only sleeps two hours a day and spends the rest

of his time studying.

I’m going to try to set the bar a little higher for fictitious cousins everywhere.