It seems like only yesterday that I was waxing poetic about sending D off to college, and yet in two weeks he will finish his sophomore year. He is very, very happy at his school–which is a great relief to us, knowing that he made the right selection–and it’s been an exciting time for him.
At the beginning of this semester, he decided to do something he claimed at the beginning of freshman year he had absolutely zero interest in doing: pledge a fraternity. We were relieved that he chose a fraternity that has a strict no secrets, no hazing policy, and it’s one whose members include the majority of the good friends he’s made in the past two years.
He was elected President of his Associate class (the new pledges) and has had a dizzying semester of keeping up with his school work along with the hours and hours required in the first semester as a fraternity member, one with extra leadership duties no less. In addition to all of the social activities, they have community service obligations, required study hours, and other things, like a fundraiser he was telling me about on the phone yesterday.
He was heavily sighing–a sound I have become quite familiar with when speaking to him lately–as he told me how exhausted he was from this fundraiser. The fraternity was raising money by selling lullabies, as in asking students to order a lullaby for a friend (at the cost of $1-3), and the brothers would perform the lullabies at the recipients’ dorm rooms. I said, “That sounds like fun!”
He sighed again. “Yeah, but the guy who was in charge of the fundraiser left the fraternity, and then the guy who took over is not staying on top of things. He’s not paying attention to what’s going on and I keep having to follow up with him and tell him, ‘let’s do this’ or ‘let’s do that’. It’s exhausting.” He has a high attention to detail and is easily frustrated when others don’t.
Out loud, I told him how sorry I was that he was having a hard time with it.
In my head, I was cringing and apologizing to my son once again for handing down this aspect of myself. He and I both know that being so intense about things is a blessing AND a curse. After hanging up with him and thinking about it for a little longer (it’s what I do), I decided that perspective is everything. Perhaps it’s time I make it more blessing than curse, even in my own head. Perhaps I need to stop thinking so much.