Kid Whirlwind and College

My life has been crazy so I haven't been blogging regularly.
People say, "Oh, too many classes to teach?" But really, most of the craziness comes from my kids.
We knew when Tucker was born (our 3rd) that we had surpassed our limits as parents, but it was too late to go back; we could only go forward. And, we love all of our kids passionately (which might be part of the problem), but their worries and woes frequently weigh on us and take a lot of time.

Famous columns from a building that burned down
years ago on the campus of Mizzou

Problems are working out and in the next few days, I hope to spill the whole story about an incident that made me feel like I was living out an episode of The Sopranos.
For today, I'm enjoying the knowledge that I don't have to go to work today because it is finals week for one of the colleges where I teach.
I also relished a 6-mile run that ended at Starbucks.

This is the indoor water park and giant hot tub at Mizzou

Mostly though,  my happiness comes from the fact that I'm very relieved my youngest son has chosen a college that is within a two-hour drive. He was leaning toward a college eight hours away and I had to beg him to reconsider.
When Spencer's phone broke, it took a tremendous amount of effort and calling in favors from old friends in the area to get him a new phone while he lived 16 hours away and had no way to communicate or get to the store.
When Grace was sick at school 10 hours away, she had to walk herself to the hospital for blood tests and walk herself to the pharmacy for medicine.
Yes, it helps them learn responsibility, but it leaves me a nervous wreck.
Tucker knew these stories and stuck to his plan to attend Mizzou -- the University of Missouri.
When we visited, I didn't even think he like it that much. He was anxious to get back on the road home.
And we have no contacts in Missouri -- no old friends to call on, no family to fall back on.
Finally on Tuesday, I told him the story about leaving his sister and brother at college.
It wasn't as bad with Grace because the college, 10 hours from home, had a plan. They had a convocation, complete with bagpipes and lit candles. Then each dorm broke up into groups to begin activities. Parents were expected to give hugs and move on to the parking lot.
I'll never forget Grace's eyes bright with tears as she stood in a circle of her dorm mates then turned around and gave us a pleading look. We walked out, but that was easier than when we left Spencer.
We moved Spencer into his college dorm room over 1000 miles from home. The school had a convocation
ceremony and then a picnic. We ate. We talked with families around us and then we needed to move on to my parents' house about 90 minutes away. Spencer walked us to our car and we left him there in the parking lot -- alone.
I just couldn't do that with Tucker.
"I know you'll make friends," I told Tucker, "but it's so hard on my to leave you there alone."
Tucker didn't respond to my story so I dropped it.
I had told him he needed to figure out what steps to take next for going to Mizzou. I had to support him.
Two days later, he said he guessed he could go to a college in Ohio. He would room with his best friend Josh and the two of them would have two unknown roommates so they didn't get stuck in a rut with only kids from our hometown.
"You can go to Mizzou," I said. "I don't want  you to choose just for me."
But he had talked it over and they made plans and the relief I felt washed over me. He can catch a bus home for $10. I can be there in two hours if he is hurt or sick. I can drive down a new phone. Or I can go down for lunch if he, or I, feel lonely.
So today is full of paperwork, making sure he accepts the school's offer. I also have to grade papers and get final grades in. Look into changing our insurance company. Deal with some payments to Spencer's schools.
In spite of the busy work, underneath it all, I'm so happy that Tucker won't be going far away.

Out With the Old

I guess I forgot.
In all the planning and the lists and the shopping, I didn't stop to think that my 6-foot, 4-inch son might be scared about this new adventure he's leaving on.
Last night he came home from work and walked into my darkened bedroom to kiss me goodnight, as he does every night since he started staying out later than I stayed up. This time though, he stretched out beside me and told me how sad he felt about leaving everyone behind -- his friends, his job, his co-workers.
"Everything's going to change," he said.
And I couldn't deny it. Life is going to change for him and all of his high school buddies. They might be together again, but it won't be the same.
A lot of his friends opted to go to Ohio University. They'll all be there together, moving their high school clique to a bigger venue. He's going 16-hours away by car, only two hours by plane, to Florida.
And as he submitted his summer essay, took the alcohol training, and ordered books for classes, it all seemed like so much planning. Then as he hung out with his best friends on Sunday and said goodbye to people at work on Monday, the reality began to sink in.
He felt sad all day Monday, he said, while he sat fishing with his dad and brother.
We talked for awhile, lying in the dark bedroom. We talked about the regrets he had from high school and some goals he had for college. I urged him not to focus on the regrets.
"The mistakes are part of what make us who we are. You don't want to erase all of the mistakes because you learn from them," I told him.
"I'm going to miss you," he said. "Who will I talk to if you're not around?"
And it's true, I'm the one he turns to when something really deep is bothering him.
"You can still talk to me," I promised, "but you'll make friends and maybe find someone you can confide in."

Then I hugged him and thought that the hugs are the things I can't send through the phone or through Skype.

Weather and Laundry and Last Times

This morning, I pushed open the windows. I'm so sick of stale, air conditioned air. Usually, we only run the air conditioner a couple of weeks each summer. This summer, with temperatures soaring over 90 everyday, we've run the air conditioner constantly.
The high temp today is supposed to be 81, so I'm hoping to get a little fresh air in the house. But the air as it comes in isn't fresh. It's heavy with moisture. The skies hang low and gray. Maybe it will thunderstorm.
When I walked outside this morning, the air felt neutral, not hot or cool -- sort of like body temperature.
But since Oscar Wilde says, "Conversation about the weather is the last refuge of the unimaginative," I'll move on from this subject to laundry. Do you think Wilde would have approved?
Only, it isn't really about laundry, it's about last times.
I heard the dehumidifier in the basement beep three times, which means it is full. I ignored it, but then it beeped again, and the boys are sleeping, so I went down to empty it. As I poured the water into the sink in the laundry room, I saw that Spencer had moved his clothes hamper full of dirty clothes into the laundry room.
So I started the water in the washer and began to sort. I remember at the store the other day Spencer said, "Someone needs to show me how to do laundry."
Now, I've shown him several times and he conveniently forgets, but I'll show him one more time before he leaves for college -- on Wednesday.
As I'm putting his tshirts and shorts into the washing machine, I picture taking them out of the dryer, folding them and placing them in the plastic bin we are using to cart his things to school. How many pairs of shorts? How many pairs of matched socks will emerge? What about boxer shorts and the endless tshirts?

This may be the last time I do Spencer's laundry before he leaves for college. That means less laundry, but it also means my boy will be far away on his own -- to sink or swim on the west coast of Florida.

Travelling

I'm feeling a little anxious about my daughter's trip tomorrow. I have full confidence she'll be safe, but something feels empty knowing she's growing up and travelling without me.
She is going with Science Club and a great teacher Mr. W. to the Bahamas. No, you don't need to picture night clubs and alcohol and slinky dresses. Instead, she's packed a mask and snorkel, fins (always attractive) and lots of bug spray. Twenty-eight students from her school are going to this rather primitive island to study Tropical Ecology and they'll earn college credit while they're there.
This is the kind of thing Grace thrives on. She loves animals and studying their habitats. As long as she doesn't run into any snakes, she'll be fine. I picture her slightly sunburned sitting in the common room sharing her notes in the evening, tired but happy.
As much as I complain about my kids, it feels very satisfying to see them branch out. It's taken 17 years for her to practice flying from the nest and returning. I have full confidence she'll succeed, but suddenly I feel like maybe I'm not ready for her to go. That must be why they call it empty nest syndrome.
I have another year with her here at home. I hope I remember to enjoy it. I'm sure this trip will be a nice nudge, reminding me how quick the time spins away.