By Bob Comeans
So, my house has mostly been a place where my 17 and 19 year old sons have always been semi-comfortable hanging out with their friends. My wife and I would rather they be here then out doing, who knows what, going who knows where, doing who knows…well you get the idea.
As college arrived finances were forcing my son to live at home instead of on campus. So somebody had the bright idea to remodel his room into a “dorm room.” Loft bed, pull out couch, laptop, 42″ big screen, aquarium, refrigerator, xbox live, and seating for nine. The cost was roughly the same as one month’s rent for a closet sized room on campus. The only thing we forgot was soundproofing for the door and walls.
What were we thinking?
The gathering routinely starts about 7:30 or so, right about the adult’s bedtime. Several cars pull in, several known associates pile out, and straight down the hall they all go. My son has become semi-famous for his new room and they all take part in the festivities, as parents bunker in behind closed doors.
About seven or eight hours later, awakened from a “I wish I was dead so I can get some sleep” sleep, you hear it, and smell it. Slamming microwave door, an oven timer, and cheese melting lovingly over shredded chicken which has been drowned in hot sauce.
They’re at it again. The “Wesley Connor Landon Buffalo Chicken Dip Special” is being prepared. You know that it’s close when the smoke alarm screeches in the hallway. Three young men who can’t even get the milk out of the refrigerator during waking hours, turn into gourmet chefs in the wee hours of the morning.
If they use the big bowl, it will feed one. But they force themselves to share and play nice amongst gnashing teeth and swashbuckling chips. I’ve seen a bowl stripped clean in minutes. It’s not something you easily forget.
At 3am you’re senses become wide awake, as you become wide awake, and drool puddles on your pillow. It’s an involuntary action and you want to give in to the urge and join the party. If only I could slip out for a piece of heaven without waking “sleeping with earplugs” beside me, enjoying her own personal bliss.
If I was 30 plus years younger, I know I would be welcomed and an active participant.
I bite my blanket and suffer in silence, my stomach protesting, as I know that eventually, they will fall asleep and the chicken dip will become a distant memory.
Night turns into day as I am once again reminded that soundproofing is available online, sleep is overrated, and a new work day awaits.
PS I started to remodel my other son’s room but got tired. Have some more chicken dip it will be okay.