He's just too busy to call his frantic mom LORI CLINCH Are We There Yet? Our eldest son is off at college, and I have to say that it's been a tough row to hoe for a mother such as myself. The mornings have been too quiet, the laundry basket has been running a load short, and I have to go to bed at a decent hour instead of waiting up until the wee hours wondering what the protocol is for grounding a 19-year-old kid. As tough as it is on me, I'm sure that it must be even tougher on him as he lives out his days in his dorm. What, with no one to look over his homework, chastise his eating habits or alphabetize his socks, he must be downright distraught. Not that I'd know, you understand - because that dang kid never calls home! Now wouldn't you think that a son would miss his mother? Wouldn't you think that he'd become overwrought with anguish? Shouldn't a child who spent the better part of his 18 years with a loving and caring parent have the decency to tap into a phone line now and then? Neglecting to phone your mom is not a punishable crime, at least in most states. And I suppose it isn't immoral, illegal or something you should confess to your priest. But I hereby declare that it should be. I have friends who have children who have gone to college and if what they're telling me is true, their kids call home. In fact, my good friend Eloise told me that her son calls her every day. Every single day, and without fail. Worse yet, her kid calls her for no reason - simply to keep her up to date, check on his family, and perhaps just to say, and I quote, "Hey." Wouldn't it be nice to have a kid call home just to say "Hey"? I'd be downright mad about it if it weren't for one thing - I have, at times, been negligent at calling my own mother. It's not that I do it on purpose, or that I don't love her. I just get busy and I've found that it helps if I tell her that I haven't called because I've been tending to the needy or going to church. So last week when I was brooding because I hadn't heard from my son, I realized that I had gone a few days without making contact with my Mom. I realized it because I was the recipient of the message on the machine that my family and I have dubbed "The Deathbed." "Lori," Mom started out as she spoke barely above a whisper to our answering machine, "Lori, are you there? This is your mother calling. I'm sure you're out." Then she feigned a weak cough for drama. "More than likely, you're shopping or socializing with friends," she continued, "while I, the woman who nursed you through immunizations, the chicken pox and schoolyard bullies, sits here alone. Alone - with no one. Oh, I know you're busy. Certainly too busy for an old woman as she suffers her last breath." You have to hand it to the old gal, she's good! Finally seeing Mom's Deathbed phone call for the classic that it is, I decided to perfect it. I worked on a script, tightened a few loose ends, stuck in a few wellplaced pangs of guilt, and waited by the phone. Hoping against all hope that kid of mine would eventually call. When he didn't call on Monday, I was upset. On Tuesday I was livid. By Wednesday I was frothing at the bit, and on Thursday I decided to take the bull by the horns and sent him a text message to call me immediately, that disaster was imminent! "Well," I said when the phone finally rang. In the way of my mother, I sat down, crossed my legs and got in position for the guilt trip that we were about to take. "So nice that you took time out of your busy schedule to call your aging mother," I said in my best feeble voice. "Sorry, Mom," he said in a tone that I found all too familiar. "It's not that I don't love you, I've just been real busy." Then he paused for effect before he added, "what with church and all." I guess it's true that the apple doesn't fall far from the tree. Even the rotten apples. Lori Clinch is the mother of four sons and the author of the book "Are We There Yet?" You can reach her at www.loriclinch. com.