Life of Wry

This was Peter about 40 minutes before his application to NYU was due January 1, 2016. He had until the stroke of midnight. Come 12:01 a.m. January 2, applications not accepted. At this point, he still had the finishing touches on an essay to do, still had credit card information to enter, still had to find his social security number, and still had to do a once-over of the entire application to make sure it was complete before clicking the submit button.

He’s already got nine apps in, including most of his high priority schools, so Jim and I have mentally moved on; if he misses the remaining deadlines, it’s fine. We figure any additional applications at this point are gravy.

Still.. as I watched him push this deadline to the absolute limit, I was getting an ulcer. His casualness about the time was making me absolutely crazy. I was calm on the outside (mostly), not wanting to add counterproductive stress to the situation, but inside an anxious, gurgling, adrenaline-y mess. And again, NOT because I was panicked about his missing an opportunity to apply to NYU, but because I CANNOT STAND watching him tease and toy with deadlines.

I am the mom. I’m supposed to teach him life skills… like how to budget his time. Like respect for schedules, calendars and deadlines. Among other things. RIGHT?? He’s just about eight months from launch. He may go out into the world before he’s mastered time management.

He may instead just master the art of procrastination.

Like his mom.

Like his dad.

[Hangs head.]

This picture also amuses me, because: Zits.