My Son...the grown up?

In honor of my son's 18th birthday, I am posting this. I would like to clarify that it is not really a short story, but more like a rant. :)
If you are, or have been, the mother of a teenager, does this sound familiar?
If you plan to have children, or have small children, my prayers are with you; your time is coming.



When I turned 18 years old, I felt ready for life outside my parents' home. I didn't see myself as a child, and didn't want the world to view me as one either. I didn't think 18 was too early at all to be considered an adult in the eyes of the law. Granted, I had seen things and been through more than your typical 18 year old. Not to mention the fact that I am female and it is common knowledge that girls generally mature faster than boys. However, now that my son has turned 18...well, let's just say I'm having reservations.
There is no way this child is ready to face the world. I mean, how can he face it when he thinks it revolves around him? The other day he was going to work with his father. The plan was that he was going to meet his dad at 7:00am. I had to get up for work anyway, so I planned to wake him. When I asked him the night before what time he needed to get up, he told me that he didn't need me to wake him up and that he could wake himself up. He proceeded to inform me of the fact that his phone had an alarm clock, and that he was not a child. Proud of him and thinking how grown up my boy was becoming, I went to bed. The next morning while I was getting ready for work, it occurred to me that I had not heard him leave. I went to his room and sure enough, there he was, still asleep.
This is how that episode played out:

Me - “What time are you supposed to be at your dad's?”
Him - “What?” he sleepily grunted.
Me - “What time are you supposed to be at your dads? It is 7 o'clock now!”
Him - “At 7.” (Please keep in mind that at this point, he still has not moved)
Me - “It is 7 o'clock now! Get up!”
Him - (Once again, still not moving.) “Why didn't you wake me up?”

WHAT!?!? Are you freaking kidding me?
But wait, because it only got better from there...
When he finally did get out of bed, he took a 40 minute shower, knowing that his brother and I still had to get ready. (Yes, we only have one bathroom) Within those 40 minutes, I beat on the door, unlocked the door and reminded him that other people had to get ready, and finally I walked in and flushed the toilet. In my house, you cannot flush the toilet while the shower is on. If you do, the toilet takes all the cold water to refill, which in turn makes the shower eight billion degrees. I then stuck my hand just inside the curtain and turned the water off. He said, “I was brushing my teeth.” I told him he could brush his teeth in the sink like normal people and that he was done. I then told him to “GET OUT!” in my best “I am loosing my patience” voice. After which he told me to shut the door on my way out because he needed to poop!
Once again, I reminded him that he was not the only person in the house and other people needed to get ready. I returned to my bedroom and finished every morning routine that did not require the use of the bathroom. As I finished, I could hear him on the toilet, moaning, grunting, and groaning. Now, I know my son, and this display of sound effects did not mean there was a problem. It was simply my little “class clown” trying to be amusing.
I was not amused.
By the time he got out, and everyone else got in the bathroom, I ended up being 20 minutes late for work. To add insult to injury, his phone was dead the night before so I let him use mine while his charged. After I finally got to work, my phone rang. He had changed my ring-tone to some loud, unintelligible rock song, and had it set on the highest volume possible. I jumped to grab my phone and nervously pushed at buttons, but it would not shut off. It just continued to scream at me until the phone stopped ringing. By this point I am shaking, angry, and certain that if I strangled him, no jury would convict me.
And again...there is more.
A few days later he was home all day while I was at work. When I came home he told me he hadn't eaten all day and that he was starving. He then asked me what was for supper, and when would it be ready.
Yes, you read it correctly.... Once again, “Are you freaking kidding me?”
This is why I say that this child is not ready to face the world. How is this 18 year old man-child supposed to support himself and provide basic necessities if he cannot even open the refrigerator to get himself something to eat? He'll never make it!
As his mother I am wondering how I failed. After all, isn't it always the mother's fault?
I may not have had a stable home growing up, but at least when I entered the world, I knew how to take care of myself. I'd been doing it for years.
Now I am wondering how to correct this. How do I help prepare him? I have entertained the notion that a taste of the world is what he needs to grow up. That he needs to get out there on his own. On the other hand, wouldn't it be a disservice to the world to put him out there? I mean, at this point in time he would either end up living off the state or being arrested for urinating in public or something! Seriously, I have this horrible image of him wondering down a back road in the wrong part of town, naked, dirty, hungry, and looking for his mommy! It seems irresponsible and unsafe to push someone into the world on their own when they are so obviously unprepared. Unsafe for him, and just down right disturbing for anyone who would have to witness the public urination! And you know what the best part is? They would be thinking, "Where is his mother?"
Fortunately for the world, his plan is to stay at home for the first two years of college and then transfer to a four year university. So, we have two years to get him ready. Two years to make him a man.... I feel like I'm standing at the foot of Mt. Everest before I attempt to climb to the peak.

Isn't motherhood fun?