O graduated from high school three weeks ago and he’s been on a three-week party circuit ever since. First, there was the graduation itself. Then, a week of graduation parties (averaging three-to-four a day). And last week, it was SWeek, a popular post-graduation tradition in our area.
SWeek — a.k.a., Senior Week — is not a school-sanctioned event, but it is a well-loved tradition. In a nutshell, it’s a seven-day beach party where groups of kids from the graduating class rent houses in towns along the Jersey Shore for a week of unsupervised hijinks and fun.
Exactly what happens at SWeek I couldn’t tell you. As they say, what happens at SWeek stays at SWeek. Or is that Vegas?
Either way, while O did gave me a few highlights when he came home, I had no idea what he was up on the daily (or nightly, for that matter) because I didn’t check in on him. Not once in seven days.
Before you come for me, I’m not a distant mother; I wasn’t completely in the dark. O texted his older brother a few times during the week, and I did get a proof-of-life photo mid-week from the mother of one of his housemates. From what I could tell, everyone had all their limbs and digits, no one was hanging from a chandelier (lifeguard stands don’t count), and there were no cops on the scene.
Nothing too incriminating — at least not in the photos I saw.
Before O left, we talked A LOT about town rules and acceptable behavior. We also talked about being the black kid in a group of white kids and how to interact with the police — a necessary conversation in our family. I told him I’d be disappointed if I got a call from the beach police, but I’d have his back. No matter what.
O’s a good kid and, for the most part, he and his friends make good decisions. He can be a little naive at times, sure, but he’s not a troublemaker and he knows when it’s time to go. I trusted him enough not to check in on him.
From what I can tell, O had a good time. Thanks to a week of little sleep, mostly unhealthy food, and probably more alcohol than I’d like to know about, those first few days home, he didn’t surfaced from his bedroom before noon. I think he was still in detox mode (another part of the tradition).
SWeek is a rite of passage for kids around here, and I’m glad O had the chance to experience it. I’m even more glad we didn’t have to bail him out of beach jail. Next year when he’s away at college, I hope he remembers to make good choices and even when he doesn’t, I hope he knows he can always call me to bail him out.
Because if there’s one thing I want my kids to know, it’s that I’ll always have their backs. No matter what.
— LJDT
