“Come on, answer the phone!” I said aloud to myself one Sunday morning last month.

It was the Sunday morning that we were to “spring forward.”

Leland had an audition around noon that day for a summer theater program. We had talked the day before, me wishing the usual “break a leg” and then sending him an “e-card.”

He had told me he was working on his monologues and didn’t have big plans for the evening. It didn’t occur to me at the time to remind him about Daylight Savings Time.
Until I woke up in a panic on Sunday morning.

OK, at this point in our children’s lives, we’re constantly debating how much we should take care of them. Should we pay for that? Should we suggest this? Should we ... should we ... should we?

There is only so much we can do ... and only so much we should do. It’s a fine line.

Should I call and tell him to get up? He’s a big boy. It’s his audition. But, kids don’t always pay attention to things like Daylight Savings Time. They don’t care about losing an hour of sleep that is so precious to us older people. Heck, they lose sleep all the time ... partying, playing video games, going to the midnight movie on a school night. They don’t care.

But he needed to be on time. If I decided to not call him to teach him to be a grown-up, and he missed the audition, I would feel incredibly guilty for not waking him up.

Maybe he’s up, just in the shower. That’s why he didn’t answer.

“I’ll call again,” I said aloud, this time to my husband.

“Good morning, Mom,” he said, drowsily. This was not the voice of someone just stepping out of the shower. It was the voice of someone just opening his eyelids.

“Did you get my earlier message?” I asked, trying not to be frantic. “No, I was asleep.”

(OK, the whole thing about why I called ... to wake you up ... I held my tongue.

So calmly, I said, “Did you happen to know that you were to turn your clocks forward last night?”

I knew the answer that would come from his lips.

“NO! THAT RUINS EVERYTHING!”

“No, it doesn’t. You’ll be fine.” My outwardly calm voice surprised me. I repeated that a few times — trying to convince us both.

“You’ve got an hour and a half ....” Now, I know that auditions are more than a matter of getting there on time. You have to feel right. You have to be mentally ready, prepared, at your best.

But he’s a professional. He’ll be fine. He’ll be fine. He’ll be fine.

Well, he was fine. He got there on time. The person registering those who came to audition was an hour late. It was just that kind of morning. People expect that.

So, he made it. I was glad I called.

I continued thinking throughout the day about his future ... about Amanda’s future.

What will they be doing in a year, two years? How will I continue to make those correct choices as a mom?

It’s decision time for them, with both graduating this month. It’ll be off and running ... in all kinds of directions.

Should we pay for that? Should we tell them this? Should we approve of that? Should we offer advice on this? Should we keep our mouths shut about that? Then there are the times I think they should NOT be asking for advice, etc.!

I’m sure it will be an ongoing battle, with ourselves, as well as with them.

And I also know for sure it is a lot easier to wake them up than to open their eyes.

‹ Phyllis R. Sigal is design editor at The Intelligencer and Wheeling News-Register and designer of Ohio Valley Parent. She is the mom of Amanda, 21, and Leland, 19.