Life is a Banquet

Last weekend, I went to a college lacrosse game -- the first one I've ever been to. I know nothing about lacrosse, but last semester, I had five lacrosse players in my freshman seminar, and I wanted to get a glimpse of the sport that was such a driving force in their lives and, perhaps, even see them play.

It was a beautiful day, and the team won. None of "my kids" played, but I did see a couple of them, and I was glad I decided to step out of my comfort zone and spend a couple hours getting sunburned and doing something different.

After the game, as I headed back to my comfort zone (Starbucks), it occurred to me how many opportunities I missed when I was in college. Unless something was already in my sphere of interest, I didn't check it out. I could count on one hand the number of sporting events I attended, and I wonder now why I didn't take advantage of all my campus had to offer.

I can't go back and re-do college, and, if I'm honest, I have few regrets, and none that would warrant a do-over. But, I have a college-bound senior daughter, and it's not too late for her to benefit from my less-than-timely realizations. So, here's what I'll tell her.

Geralt via Pixabay

Do stuff. All those things you loved doing in high school? Seek out opportunities to continue doing them in college. Pack your flute and take it with you -- maybe even try out for the band. Don't assume you're not good enough. If it interests you, give it a shot.

Try stuff. All that stuff you wanted to do in high school but didn't? It's not too late. Don't assume that everyone else in that club or activity already has experience. If it interests you, check it out. See if newbies are welcome. Once you leave college, you'll pay per activity for all that fun stuff that's included in your tuition.

Go to stuff. It wasn't until I worked on a college campus that I realized how much is going on all the time. Speakers, concerts, sporting events, seminars, workshops, lectures...and from people who know what they're doing. Don't just go to class and to the library and hang out with friends. Check out all the other stuff that's going on and take advantage of it. Go to a lecture on a topic that interests you. Go watch a team play a sport you've never tried. Go listen to classical music firsthand, played by your peers. (Or better yet, grab your flute and become part of the process).

Fortunately, my daughter is already ahead of me, attending lectures and a concert and even taking a class on the same campus where I watched lacrosse. Watching the ease with which she now does these things, I realize how ready she is to take the next step in her life. While I'm sure it will be filled with more than just classes and homework and guest lectures by scholars (as it should), I hope she'll realize early on that there are myriad ways to learn outside the classroom and will make it a point to take advantage of them as she settles into the next chapter of her life.

Empty Nesting

Photo credit: Pixabay

My husband and I bought our house when we were newlyweds and my daughter wasn�t even a blip on the family radar. It was a cute house, with good bones, but it needed updating, and so we dug right in. Painting, decorating, planting flowers�the sweat equity projects that are within the budget of first time home buyers�the things that make a house a home.

For the first few years, I took on a new project every summer. Painting was my specialty, but I�ve stripped and replaced plenty of wallpaper and even tried my hand at a few craft projects. When I got pregnant, the nesting that ensued bookended the summer and temporarily increased my domesticity. I even bought a sewing machine and tested out my long-dormant sewing skills, making valences and a comforter for the nursery. 

When my daughter was small, I managed to squeeze my projects into nap time and weekends, but as she got bigger and more mobile, the projects�and my interest in them�tapered off. Later, when I had to choose between writing and home improvement projects, the former won every time. 

This fall, my daughter is heading to college. As I look around our house, the haphazardness of our home improvement projects over the past eighteen years�years spent at playgrounds and concerts and basketball games�is undeniable. The house looks tired and in need of some of the attention we lavished on it when we were young enough to spend a weekend painting without needing a weekend to recover. Lately, I�ve been lying in bed choosing paint colors for the kitchen and wondering how long it takes a 50-something person to paint a room compared to her 30-something self.

If my daughter�s bedroom project is any indication, that time frame is too embarrassing to print. Early in her high school career, we started an overly ambitious painting project in her room; we�ve yet to finish it. Busyness, allergies and waning enthusiasm collided, leaving the big room repainted (except for one wall behind a heavy piece of furniture) and the smaller space untouched. In the smaller room, horses galavant across a wallpaper border affixed to sponge painted walls, creating an ironic contrast to the trappings of teen life that are apparent everywhere else in the space.

As my daughter�s departure from her room and our house draws closer, I find myself torn between the desire to tear down the border and finally paint the walls and the realization that she won�t be in that room long enough�or often enough�to enjoy the results. Mom-guilt pricks at my conscience at the thought of sending her off to college with this years-old project still incomplete, while my practical side says to hold off and paint the room the color I want rather than the rich, dark red she chose�a color I know will be difficult to put up, more difficult to paint over and a constant reminder that the room�s long-time inhabitant no longer lives there.

Photo: Pixabay

And so I marinate in indecision, wondering how much of this has anything to do with painting at all.

I knew it was normal to nest when I was pregnant, but now I find myself wondering if empty nesting is normal, too. With time on our hands and changes ahead, does it make perfect sense to re-envision our home as we re-envision our future? Am I finally stepping up to the plate and making up for years of turning a blind eye toward all that needed to be done? 

Or, am I looking to fill time and keep busy? 

As parents of an only child, we won�t have a step-by-step transition. In August, we�ll go from being parents to being empty nesters. As the time draws closer, I wonder not only how we�ll do that, but how it�s possible that it never occurred to us before that we�d be diving off the cliff of family back into the waters of couplehood. And that those waters are likely to take some getting used to.

So I look at my house and I wonder what comes next. What�s in good shape and what needs to be replaced? What looks tired and what needs refreshing? Do we start with the inside or the outside?

And for the first time since we bought the house, I can�t ignore the metaphor.

Growing, Growing, Grown

quinnipiac.edu

Today, I'm in Connecticut with my daughter on a college visit, so I'm pulling a post from the archives. This one ran in June 2014 on "Six Children and No Theories," a community blog I wrote for WITF for a time, and since it's about milestones, it seemed about right for today, as we prepare for the next milestone.

I talk a really good game when it comes to milestones in my daughter�s life. Though I can�t believe how quickly she leapfrogs from one to the next (walking to running to a riding a bike to starting school to middle school to high school), I know that each is a necessary step on the ladder of independence, and I generally view these milestones with optimism. But today, she�s embarking on a whole new level of independence, one I�m not sure I am ready to face.

My daughter is getting her driver�s license. 

I must admit to conflicting feelings about this. To be honest, I never really minded transporting her. She's good company and we usually enjoy our time in the car together. Now that she's on the cusp of going it alone, I wonder how often we'll have those times. Not often, I imagine, and I find myself oddly unready to let go of those trips.

And then there are the practical concerns. I'm handing my child the car keys. No matter how good a driver she is (and she is good, if a bit, er, speedy), I don't know whom she'll encounter when she's on the road. I plan to adopt an approach I've dubbed "Prayerful Ostrich" -- praying a lot for her safety, and then burying my head in the sand.

Photo: Anita Peppers via Morguefile

Still, although she is sixteen and old enough to drive, with new privileges come new guidelines, guidelines my husband and I have discussed, but have not yet fully worked out. Thus far, we've told her only that there will be rules -- something I'm sure does not come as a surprise to her as most of her new privileges came with rules -- or at least guidelines. Some of our rules will reiterate what the state of Pennsylvania has to say (cell phone off, wear your seatbelt at all times, no more than one friend in the car with you, no driving after 11 pm), while others will be designed to put our minds at ease (we need to know where you are going and when you expect to be home) or reiterate common courtesies (if you're going to be late,  you need to let us know).

But setting up rules for a child on the cusp of adulthood is different than setting up rules for a toddler. Fortunately, the same concerns that have been persistent throughout her life (safety is non-negotiable, for example) still form the backbone of those rules. This license, many of my friends have warned me, is her first step toward real independence. Much as those first wobbly toddler steps signify a sea change, so does ready access to the car keys. Only this time, I can't hover and be there to catch her if she's close to a dangerous fall.

And for the first time since I watched those Lamaze videos in childbirth class, I don't know if I'm ready for this. But a big part of parenting is letting go, and allowing our kids to run ahead of us when they�re prepared to do so.

It�s just that no one told me she�d be prepared before I was.

Sometimes, the Horse is Brown

pixabay.com

Yesterday, we attended our last college Open House. It's not that a decision has been made, mind you; we're just reaching the end of the list of contenders. Acceptances have begun to arrive, changing the question my daughter has to answer from "where should I apply?" to "where should I go?"

This shift has colored the way we look at everything. Instead of the big picture view, where we take in as much information as possible, we're zooming in on the details, trying to decide which attributes are most important. Class size? Study abroad? Location? If we've made the trip to see the school in the first place, it has cleared the academic hurdles: Major. Languages of choice. Real world connections.

It's overwhelming. And I'm not even the one making the decision.

The urge to muzzle well-intentioned adults who promise her that she'll "know" when she finds the "right" school grew stronger (for me) with every such declaration. Though that's exactly what happens with some kids, it's not true for everyone, and tacitly encouraging my daughter to wait for something that might not happen sometimes feels like the college admissions version of waiting for a knight on a white horse. Sometimes he's a prince, and sometimes the horse is brown. Does that make him any less desirable?

If we stop holding our breath, waiting for the knight to arrive, the process is actually fun. Family trips. Conversations about the future. Glimpses of the adult my daughter wants to become.

Endless possibility.

This is, after all, the only time we'll go through this process in quite this way. Maybe I'd feel differently if I had more than one child, but I don't really want to just check this off and be done with it. As endless as the process may feel at times, it's going way too fast. May is just around the corner, and with May 1 comes a choice, one that will define the next four years of her life.

And so my daughter is taking her time, weighing her options, balancing the pros and cons. (Or dragging her feet, tuning me out, driving me crazy. Depends on the day).

capsandgownsnow.com

Either way, I'm glad she's taking this seriously. In her reasonably charmed life, this is the first big decision she's had to make, a dress rehearsal for all those that lie ahead. And since the only right answer is the one that's right for her, all I can do is facilitate.

And that is, after all, just my dress rehearsal for all the years that lie ahead.