Monday, January 07, 2013

Twenty-two Days

Oh these growing pains. They ache.

Just finished with a rather large argument with my eighteen year old son on how much it would behoove him to learn The Eleven General Orders of a Sentry, since his Navy recruiter has strongly recommended he know them before he arrives for boot camp.

He's had months to learn these statements by heart. He really hasn't bothered.  He leaves on January 29th.  Not knowing his orders on command, amongst other trivia found in a book the Navy printed all glossy for new recruits, is going to make him a target for his drill instructor.  He will be doing so many push ups that he may actually develop biceps.

The argument probably wasn't about learning his orders.  It was probably about being so ready to leave home and so not ready to leave home.  It was about both him making sure I knew how adult he thinks he is and how much of a child he wants to remain.

You know, I didn't drop him off at the Navy offices against his will.  He joined up.  He has Navy paraphernalia about his person and belongings.  He likes his recruiter.  He wants the job the Navy wants to train him for. 

He also wants to stay home, the only person in this house who has his own room, he wants to create heaps of clothes and garbage in that space, eat junk, suck up bandwidth, spend his money on geek toys and fap in the shower.

He claims his memory is poor.  That's why he can't do it.  He has a million excuses.

His ever-lovin' parents reminded him that he remembers the origin of every single meme posted on the internet, how to code miles of custom format Linerider tracks, all the algorithms for solving complicated Rubiks style puzzles, and the words to his favorite songs.

His ever-lovin' drill instructor will not give a shit if he claims his memory is poor.  He will learn by the numbers.  The drill instructor will teach you.

It's my turn to be done with all the teaching.  It's my son's turn to sink or swim.

This is just crap.  It really is.


  1. My very undisciplined daughter joined the Marines thinking...well, I don't know what she was thinking. The drill instructor would get right in her face, "You WILL learn discipline! Now PUSH!!" Good luck to your son. Boot camp is no fun.

    1. Ahh...bless you.

      Since yesterday my son has learned his creed by heart, his alphabet, can basically recognize ranks and has memorized half of his general orders. For a kid who thinks his memory is bad he's done very well, but then that's always been the way when he's backed himself into a wall.

      Now to grind the words into him so that the work of practice will relieve him of thinking his head is a sieve. That and I took away his laptop and cut off his wireless. He learns it because it's grownup time. He joined, now do the work.


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