My son just returned from six hours of bell ringing for the Salvation Army, a task that I honestly wouldn’t wish on anyone but one that was born via calling his bluff. It’s not that I don’t support this annual fundraising drive; it’s that I have rung that bell myself, decades ago, and I still remember clearly how quickly the high tone grinds into one’s eardrums. I’m not naive, of course. I’m sure my son spent the six hours logging community service hours with earbuds locked in, drowning out that high-pitched bell with some delightful Christmas tunes heavy metal or rap while performing a thousand eye rolls because his mom made him do this.
It’s true.
My son did not give up a perfectly good Saturday because he felt an awakening in his giving heart. Volunteer? No. More like voluntold.
He is, after all, 18 years old and very much uninterested in a gleeful hop from his bed to stand in front of the local Walmart urging passersby to drop a coin or two into his bucket. Still, at 18, you’d think he’d understand my ability to follow through on a threat. Dear child, have you learned nothing during our time together?
The backstory? Thanks for asking, I’d love to share.
Last August, as summer rounded the corner to completion, so did my son’s stint as a lifeguard. We nudged him to start looking for a new job to balance his loads of free time during this, his senior year.
Bonus backstory? Sure, happy to tell (full story here). Last May, after this child was (ahem) removed from the IB program at his school, we suggested that he take a courseload full of softballs. This was, after all, a kid who long ago declared himself uninterested in the requirements of his teachers such as homework or projects or tests and especially anything that involved check-points in progress. We never thought IB was a wise choice, but hey, what do we know? We spent that first year of the two-year IB program chasing our then 17-year-old down, imploring him to turn shit in and fielding phone calls from teachers asking just when he might clock into the work. So, yes, when he was politely asked to choose a different path, we were quite relieved.
As it was, heading into his senior year, this gifted child was already just two credits short of graduation. Yes, he really could have grabbed his degree last August and moved forward but why would he do that when he could dedicate another year to phrases like “school is stupid” or “I’m fine with mediocre.” Our suggestion, therefore, was to take the minimal classes needed (six) to attend in-person, enjoy shortened school days (every day!) and, oh yes, get a job.
Thus as the lifeguarding season wound down, our hints that he should focus on acquiring that job ramped up. In fact, at one point when seeing no movement, I said the following words (and, yes, I do quote):
You need to get on this job hunt or else it’s going to be Thanksgiving before you find something.
The pace that this child moves at would make a rushed snail jealous.
I suppose you’ve already guessed that November came into view but a job? No such luck. My frustration increased until, one day, I blurted out “If you don’t have a job by Thanksgiving, I will find you something to do and I can promise you it won’t be a paid gig.”
Regret immediately seeped through me as I knew the combination of our stubborn personalities would result in A) My son not finding a job by Thanksgiving and B) Future me being tasked with a hunt for volunteer activities.
GOD DAMMIT, HOW HAD THIS BECOME A NEW ITEM ON MY TO-DO LIST?!?!?
Did you know that you can’t just wake up, decide to go volunteer somewhere, and show up? Turns out there are now applications, requests for references, and endless portals. I wanted to find something for this child that would be temporary as I hoped that a few calendar invites would kick that elusive job hunt into high gear and, so, I opted for bell ringing with the Salvation Army. I also wanted it to be temporary as this forced responsibility would, no doubt, become yet another reason that he could not apply within, “Oh, I couldn’t find a job because you signed me up as a volunteer, so…“
I sent a few calendar invites for bell-ringing: one decoy, one legit. Don’t judge me, the portal was insane and I really thought that, upon getting those invites, my child would surely, magically, miraculously secure something. Right?
Wrong.
Shit. He called my bluff right back.
Now I had to come up with a whonky reason for him to skip that first (decoy) session and also buckle down and nap that second one. In the meantime, his attitude escalated to level nine of “you are the lamest parent ever.” He shared his feelings with my husband who kindly reminded him that all of this was really his own doing. Saturday came and I fully expected the child to completely botch his responsibilities but there he was, up and out of the house (early even!) though with a strong smell of misery.
Fine. Be miserable. Also, get a job.
We did check his location midway through the volunteer hours and were a bit surprised to find him nowhere near his bell-ringing station. Surely, no? My husband pinged him to see how it was going and got an immediate response of “Well, I wasn’t going to stand outside all day so I signed up for sorting Christmas gifts instead.” Alright, so yes he was miserable but he was also responsible and even a bit creative.
When he arrived back home, it was with no bad mood in sight. I’d say he was even chipper. This is textbook when nudging our kids to participate in life beyond screens or their bedroom walls. They protest, protest, protest, and then return full of stories and (what’s that?) purpose. Of course, what he did not return with was, um, a job. It’s fine though. For the foreseeable future, his job will be that of a volunteer for the Salvation Army courtesy of the new edict that he spend fifteen hours a week at it until he secures that elusive paid gig.
This kid?
This kid is stubborn. I have no doubt he will continue standing firm on securing that gig just to prove a point (we aren’t sure what that point is). For a split second, I did think oh, may he has awakened his service heart but then he squelched that thought with an under-his-breath statement that sorting gifts was not so bad as he got to hang out with a bunch of cool moms all day.
Welp.
If you’d like to support my son’s new favorite charity, please make a donation to the Salvation Army this holiday season. Home of bell ringers, service opportunities, and, well, enough cool moms to get an 18-year-old out of bed on a Saturday.