Distance

My 9th grade son, ADMS, left for Costa Rica last night for 29 days. I had signed him up for this trip soon after my future was rocked with knowledge of breast cancer. I couldn't imagine planning camping trips and keeping him busy, so I thought...get him out of Dodge...and immerse him in Spanish. I might have sent him to East LA given his attitude of late, but I saw an organization mentioned on BPN called Education without Borders. He'll be living with a family in rural Costa Rica and then working on an organic coffee farm and making smokeless stoves. I hope he learns a lot of Spanish and works hard and breaks a sweat for more than 20 minutes at a time. I imagine a couple of hours of hard labor would really do magical things for him, but I know it's wishful dreaming on my part. At 15 he needs his butt kicked, at least in this mother's opinion. I keep trying to give him limits but he does what he pleases and I end up yelling and then feel guilty for losing my cool (which starts at warm so I'm always half revved up to begin with). The immediate gratification of screaming is needed to relieve the pressure I build up in my little body when he disobeys me and leaves at will and comes home when it suits him, with complete disregard for any curfew I set. In my transition from parent as manager to parent as consultant, my expectations are going bonkers....too high....too low. My words now have no value while his values have been reduced to one: make each decision based on the most immediate gratification (which gives us a lot in common).