Stress Continues

So, we're a week into selling the house, and I realized this morning, as I was standing in the shower, that I needed to soften my face. Relax! I chided myself.
I have to actually focus on it to stop that scrunched up feeling in the middle around my eyes, nose and mouth.
We had to vacate the house at 9 this morning for a showing, and there is another open house this afternoon. We practically can't live in our house.

Tybs has no problem relaxing in our staged house. White pillows, black cat -- perfect

Our real estate agent had talked up the hot market. She said we would probably be in contract before the first open house last Sunday. We aren't; thus, the scrunched up worry face. What's wrong with our house? Is our price too high? Can we pay off all our bills and buy a house in France at a lower price?
All of these questions constantly swirl around my brain, preventing me from enjoying the sun-kissed day and heavenly breeze.
I had a brief run Saturday morning before I had to teach, and I know that I need more of that - running time.
Meanwhile, Earl and I carried our laptops to Panera this morning and settled in for breakfast and some screen time.
We had talked about driving to my brother's house about 90 minutes away and staying through the open house. I know I would have enjoyed seeing him and my sister-in-law, but the thought of driving back home in the evening, more exhausted than ever, made us cancel that plan.
In addition to the carefully staged setting at home, we have some more turmoil coming our way. Tucker is moving out of his apartment to a new one, but he has to have his things out on Monday and can't move in until Tuesday. He's going to use our garage as the receptacle overnight for all of his belongings. He may or may not sleep at our house that one night of homelessness.
But Spencer, who has been living with Tucker for the past month, will be moving back home. I'm sure it's not what he wants, but until he has a steady job and a bit of money saved up, he'll have a place to sleep and plenty of food. I urged him to take his time and find a job he likes rather than jumping from sales job to sales job that he doesn't like.
He's delivering food for Panera where he will get immediate tips for his everyday needs while he continues to look for a job with a good salary and benefits.
Grace continues her job search. She's receiving unemployment, so she can take her time, as well.
It seems like we have very few stable supports in our family right now.
Yesterday while I was teaching, Tucker texted to ask where everyone was. He had dropped by the house to do laundry. Then when Earl got home after the morning showing, he said Spencer had shown up. I ordered pizza and picked it up on the way home, along with texting Grace that she should come over for pizza. She wanted to do laundry too.

Me taking a selfie with the pizzas, reminding the kids I was alone and hungry. 

When I got home, everyone but Earl had left. I texted the kids and soon they each pulled up and joined me on the patio for pizza and a rare family lunch as the breeze ruffled the umbrella over the table and the cats rubbed against the chair legs, not wanting pizza, but just some attention.
And for a moment, I looked up and remembered how lucky I am.

It's a little pale, but we did see a rainbow last week, which surely is a sign. 

Spreading Our Wings

I hope no one every doubts my devotion to my children, but after 24 years of mothering, I'm kind of ready for a break.

Tucker on a trip out west

We had a brief empty nest two years ago with all three kids off to college. That was the autumn that Grace got mono, and Tucker hated college so decided he was moving home after the fall semester.
We declared it Empty-Nest November in an attempt to keep the kids away for a month, but with Thanksgiving and all, we let them come home.
Since then, all or some of our three children have been living at home.
We don't mind. We enjoy them a lot of times.
This summer, with all three kids home in our small house, it has felt a little crowded.
Luckily, everyone has different work schedules so we aren't usually all home at the same time, except when we're sleeping, and even that varies. I'm sure there have been times I've climbed out of bed at 5:30 when my boys might just be going to bed.
This morning though, it feels a little roomier here at home as Tucker moved out yesterday.

Spencer going out on the town.

He moved into a duplex in the same town where we live, which makes me happy because it is safer than a lot of housing closer to campus (Ohio State University). Tucker.20,  works five days a week, takes classes, plays soccer and hangs out with his friends. I think that we are closer, more tolerant of each other when he doesn't live at home.
Our agreement is that we'll pay his rent while he's in college. He has to pay his utilities and food, along with gas for his car. And he has to pass his classes. He has had a hard time settling on a major. Currently he is aiming for Interactive Multimedia, which includes photography, videography and computer animation. I hope he enjoys it.

Grace and her boyfriend Jack in a moment
 of' adoration and cuteness

After Spencer left for work at 6:45, and Earl left for work at 8, the house felt a little less crowded.
I freely walked from the bathroom to the bedroom without clothes on, knowing that the house was a male-free zone for a few hours.
Grace asked what we were going to do with our male-free hours, but I had to work, so she's on her own, until Spencer gets home from work or she leaves for the class she is taking.
Next month, Spencer will return to college for one more semester.
Grace and her boyfriend are headed to London in September.
I love my kids, but I'm looking forward to the time this fall when we might get to be empty nesters again.
Remind me next year, if I'm whining about missing my kids that I was looking forward to being alone.

The End of an Era

Yesterday, my youngest turned 20.
No more teenagers in my house.
It doesn't really seem that different though.
I have two kids living at home. Grace has finished college, is working full time and acts in shows so she has rehearsal most evenings.
Tucker has been on and off at college. He's currently studying videography and living at home. Sometimes I wonder whether he'll end up moving to France with us when we go next May.
I have so few recent pictures of Tucker, that I had to crop a family photo to get one of him.
I started off his birthday by going to the local donut store and buying a box of donuts for when he woke up.
I also got a helium balloon to attach to the box because I'm a sappy mom and I wanted him to feel special. As the youngest, his birthday has sometimes gotten pushed aside, like the time my husband found out on Tucker's birthday that  his job was going through layoffs. It put a damper on the celebration to say the least.
And March is usually busy when the older kids are around with sports activities or college prep things.
He can't really complain though since he had two years home alone with the other kids gone to college. He definitely enjoys being an only child.

Tucker is a bit on the quiet side now, but that is not his usual nature. As you can see from this picture, he has enjoyed the spotlight. 

And even though he tries to be unassuming, he has had his share of fame in swimming and on stage.

My boys chilling on a whitewater rafting trip. I hear they had a lot of fun. 

And here, my youngest trying to warm up in my arms after a swim. Those were pretty perfect times. 

I'm glad to see him growing up and eager to see how his life goes, but I'm grateful for the times I got to cuddle him too. 

Concussions Suck -- But It Could Be Worse

On Sunday, Grace was rehearsing with her dance ensemble when she got dropped on her head. She called me before she drove home. The choreographer had urged her not to drive. She called me from her car as she sat in the parking lot.
Did you lose consciousness? Do you feel nauseated? I asked the normal parenting questions after your kid hits her head.
Just drive home, I encouraged her.

Here's Grace as Nancy in Oliver -- the last show she was in. 

She called the doctor's office on Monday, but they were closed for Martin Luther King Day.
Grace had a headache, but she continued her normal life, going to rehearsal for her musical on Monday night. As a concession to her head bump, she didn't do the dance numbers at rehearsal.
Tuesday, she got an appointment with the doctor, but had to be at work at 8 a.m. She went to work and got off early. She called me then because the doctor said she had a concussion.
"The only way you're getting away with this is because you're young," the doctor scolded.
She was ordered home with no work, no rehearsal, no screens. "Rest your brain," the doctor told her.
I'm hopeful that Grace's concussion isn't too severe since she hasn't been intolerant of light and sound, like some people with concussions are. She turns the television on then faces away from it so she can hear it even if she isn't allow to watch it.
We tried watching War and Peace, the miniseries, but it got too complicated with me trying to describe to Grace each actor and each scene. We decided we'd hold off and watch it when she recovered.
The hardest thing for her has been resisting her telephone -- the lifeline of the 20 something year old. No texting. No Facebook. No games or clips of cute little owls taking refuge from the rain under a mushroom. She was allowed to knit as long as she didn't make a complicated pattern that required her to think too much.

She's been knitting these mermaid tail blankets. She gave this to our niece Regan for Christmas. 

I didn't think of it right away because I'm not a huge homeopathy kind of person, but by today, day five, I did go to Whole Foods and buy some arnica. I pried Grace out of bed around 1 p.m. and gave her some arnica to let it melt under her tongue. Arnica is supposed to help with bruising and trauma. Grace took some acetaminophen too, which is the pain medicine she's allowed to take. After a meal and a shower, she looked at me in surprise. "My head isn't hurting!" she said. 

That's huge. Maybe it's the arnica, maybe it's just the days of resting her brain, but any day without a headache is a success.
I should have thought of the arnica because just this week, I had more proof that it helped. For Christmas, I had sent my parents a basket of things that I picked up at the farmer's market. Included in the package was an ointment with arnica. My father was having foot and leg pain, and I asked mom if she had tried the ointment on it. When I talked to them last night, they told me his pain was much better and he'd been able to get some sleep. So maybe there is something to this arnica. At least, I plan to keep giving it to Grace and I'll get more ointment for her on Saturday so she can rub it on her neck, which the doctor said was swollen.  
Tomorrow, she's scheduled to return to work, so I'll keep my fingers crossed that  she heals quickly, as a 23-year-old does.

Parenting Easy A-Style

One of Grace's friends has recently been hanging out at our house some. Grace met her at work, so Earl and I didn't know her until she began to meet Grace here. She and Grace plan to get an apartment together so it's nice to get to know her.
While we've gotten to know her, she has learned some things about our family too.
This morning, she sent Grace a text that said she'd finally figured out who we are like -- the family in Easy A, minus the adopted brother.  Of course, she hasn't been here when Grace's brothers were home, so we might even meet those criteria.
I love the parents in Easy A, and I can definitely see Grace as Emma Stone.
If you haven't seen the movie, it's a lot of fun. I show it in my speech class when we talk about people making assumptions about each other and climbing the ladder of inference.
Here are a couple of clips of the parents in Easy A. Now, if you haven't met me in person, you can get glimpse of what I aspire to act like as I raise my children. And if you have met me, you can judge whether the future roommate is correct.
Imagine how mortified this boy must have been.

Here's the family interacting.

And this one, the mother's comment at the beginning is priceless. When the daughter says she was called to the office at school, the mother says, "Did you get a medal?" That's definitely what I would think.

Hope everyone has an exciting and fun Halloween.

Empty-Nest November

I have officially declared the month Empty-Nest November.
I do this because people always ask me, "What's it like being an empty-nester?"
And my response is, "I have no idea! My children are home all the time."
When all three kids left for college at the end of August, we anticipated missing them. But it was a rough start with Tucker being sick. He was home most every weekend and some days before and after the weekend to visit the doctor or the dentist. Finally, around the end of September, he was healthy, but the weekends home were well established. Add to that, the fact that his girlfriend lives here in town, and we still see him every other weekend.

Tucker obviously having a horrible
time at the campus Halloween party.

The university luckily has a bus that he can take home, so we haven't been able to ban him from returning. What it means, is like a baby and toddler who doesn't bond with his parents, he hasn't really been able to bond with his college. He's drawn back to Columbus, a town that is easy to love.
So the last day of October, first weekend in November, Tucker sat down with me and Earl to explain why he didn't want to go back to his college in January. Instead, he wants to stay in Columbus. He'll attend the local community college and transfer to Ohio State.
Earl and I were really opposed to this. Then the fight began about whether he'd have to live at home or could get an apartment. We stuck to our guns, saying he wasn't old enough or responsible enough to get an apartment. He could live at home while going to school and then move into the dorms at Ohio State in the fall.
So, if he follows through with this, come the middle of December, he'll be home until August. Earl and I have a whole list of conditions for Tucker, and one of those includes that he must stay on campus the entire month of November until Thanksgiving. He also has to join two clubs and sign up for classes in January, just in case he changes mind. (Fingers crossed!). We told him he'd have to work while living at home and that he needed to be "more pleasant" to Earl and me.
If I was a teenager, I'd definitely go back to living in the dorms in January and plan to transfer the following year, but we'll see what he decides.

Grace at a recent audition, slowly
recovering from her illness. 

Also cutting down on our empty-nest days this fall is the fact that Grace has been ill for weeks. After two weeks of believing she had the flu, the health center finally declared she had mono or strep. Since the treatment for strep and mono are very different, Earl picked Grace up and took her to our doctor where they did actual tests and decided Grace had mono.
She hasn't been that sick since she was a baby. Her fever continued for days. She was miserable and too weak to make her own coffee in the mornings. So she was home for a week and every weekend trying to recover, through this past Monday.
Thus, my call for Empty-Nest November.
Whether Tucker transfers colleges or not, our empty-nest days are still coming to an end. Grace will graduate from college in December. With her degree in Theater, she may face a long audition period before she gets a job in her field. We decided that it didn't make sense to continue to pay rent on her apartment by her college, so she'll be moving home until she has a full-time job.
If we knew that she was staying in Columbus, we'd definitely  help her get settled in an apartment here, but she may end up anywhere. She's going to audition for cruise ships in December, so she could be out of the house in January.
Earl and I are prepared for a longer period of grown-children invasion. But as we look back at our brief empty-nest period, we feel like we hardly got to enjoy it. So we're really splurging in November.
We ordered pizza with mushrooms on it the other night, something the kids would never eat. I'm rarely cooking these days, and when I do, only cooking things that I really want!
Earl and I realize that someday we'll wish our kids would come home more often, but until then, how can we miss them if they won't go away?
We'll delight in Empty-Nest November and look forward to some family time through the holidays.

One Innocent Question

I asked my 17-year-old one innocent question, "Whose glasses are these?"
I pointed to the black-framed glasses laying on the counter.
"They're my fake glasses," he said.
"Why do you need fake glasses?" I asked. He has real glasses that look very similar, but he usually wears his contacts.
"It was poker night," he said.
Was that supposed to make sense?
"And?"
"That's why I shaved my beard and left my mustache last night. Then I wore the glasses for poker night."
I looked at his clean-shaven face. I'm not sure if the answers provided any more clarity.
Was it some sort of 70s poker night where they dressed in short-sleeved plaid shirts with pocket protectors, thick mustaches and glasses? Some sort of Will Farrell parody?
I'll never know.
"Did you win?" I asked.
"Oh, no. I lost bad," he said.
"Did you play for money?" I asked, suddenly worried.
"Nah, it was a dollar maximum. We played with chips."
And that was the night of a 17-year-old when his high school football team is not doing so well

New College, New Fears

My week has only gotten busier with the start of a new semester and the end of another one. But I wanted to post briefly about Grace's departure to a new college.
Grace has a hard time with change. She always has. And it doesn't matter that she can take along her favorite things, she still hates it at the beginning. So we just have to persevere until she gets to a comfortable place.
The good news is, her new college is only about 20 minutes away. Her old college, if you'll recall, was 10 hours away. To mean, 20 minutes seems much less dire, but for a girl who hates change, she feels the despair that she will never sleep in her own bed again.
We moved her in Wednesday morning with stops for coffee and for her paycheck and at the bank to deposit her paycheck. Earl drove a little pickup truck with Grace's belongings -- small refrigerator, bicycle, bins with clothes --and met us at the dorm.
In her dorm room, third floor, the bed was lofted so the desk and dresser could fit underneath. Grace wanted the bed lowered so Earl wrestled with that. We were all sweating in the tiny heat box of a room.
And then, as sheets were put on the bed and clothes folded into drawers, I had to leave because a new semester of classes began Wednesday, and I had to teach at 12:30. So I gave Grace a hug and kiss then I left to get to class.
I feel so fortunate that she is close enough that I could help drop her off before I had to scoot away.
And, this is very strange, I didn't get any pictures of Grace's room or Grace. I also didn't get any pictures of the three kids together during our family night.
I asked Grace to send a photo and she sent this picture or her room. We forgot to take her posters, obviously.
I replied that I wanted a picture of her, so here's her self portrait.

I guess the jury is still out on this new college. 

My Hiatus With Grace

I haven't updated everyone on my daughter Grace. If you read my blog, you know that I'm crazy about my daughter. She just turned 21 and she's a junior in college. Last year she traveled to France for three months and made huge leaps in language and independence.
Grace started college in the fall of 2010 at St. Lawrence University, up by the St. Lawrence seaway in New York -- 10 hours from home. Some parts of St. Lawrence she loved; some parts were rough. Last fall, as she struggled, not with classes, but with little sleep, not eating correctly, sorority rush, and sorority house living, it became clear that she was not thriving in this environment.
She would call me in tears more days than not.
We began to struggle with the idea of having her transfer to a college closer to home, and when she came home for Christmas break, she stayed.

She's taking classes now at the college where I teach and planning where she'll finish college, someplace within an hour of home. She just finished acting in a community theater musical and she did the makeup for the college performance. She has a job at a French restaurant and still goes salsa dancing on Friday nights. She's dating a guy she met at salsa, and flirting with a guy from acting class. Other than her own place and her own car, she's living a pretty typical college life.
And I just want to say, even though this hiatus can't last forever, I'm loving it.
We've watched The Bachelor together and now we've started watching The Amazing Race. She comes to campus with me and hangs out between classes. We go to youtube and laugh at the songs which incorporate the screaming goats that sound like humans.
She rolls her eyes with me when my teenage son is surly or rude.
She's the one I want to tell first when something exciting happens with my book or the one I turn to when I want to complain about work.

I know Grace will go on to have her own, separate, exciting life, but I'm so glad for this brief reprieve that I get to share with her.

Parents and Kids

When the kids were little, they were my territory. I staked them out.
I nursed them. I took care of them when they were sick, when they were scared, when they were tired.
Earl worked a lot of hours and I stayed home with the kids, setting the rules and the expectations. Of course, I also bore the brunt of that -- the exhaustion, the feeling that I never wanted to be touched by anyone because I was so tired of clingy hands grasping onto me.
When he was home, Earl helped -- giving me a break but I wasn't really good at letting him take control. I felt everything was carefully balanced and one misstep could send everything sliding.
Now that that the kids are young adults venturing off into the world, I'm working a lot of hours, so when the kids need something Earl is the one to step in.
What does that mean?
Well, so far, that means that he travels to New York and Paris and Florida to help them.
I know. I'm sitting here thinking that I kind of grabbed the wrong end of this.
Earl is the one who traveled with Grace to visit the college in the Adirondack Mountains that she eventually chose. 

Earl has made close friends at a bed and breakfast in Grace's college town. He stays there for free now, playing with the grandkids and chopping wood before heading to campus to relax in adirondack chairs. Just last weekend he went there again to visit her for family weekend.

Then the two of them drove across the bridge to Canada and stayed for the night.
Last year at this time, he traveled to France with Grace to deposit her with some friends. I tease him about what sacrifices he has to make for the kids each time he gets his passport stamped. Sometimes I think he helped them choose their colleges based on places he wants to visit.
Last spring, Earl and Spencer ventured down to St. Petersburg, Florida to look at a college. Guess where Spencer ended up going?
Both of us took off work in August to get Spencer settled into college, leaving him there in the humidity and the sandy soil with crazy Dr. Seuss trees growing all around him.
And I didn't think either of us would be making the trip back to Florida any time soon. It is a 16-hour drive. I just thought Spencer would fly home for holidays or go to my parents' house a few hours away if he couldn't fly home.
But Earl has 8 vacation days left and my parents are buying a new house. They've offered to give us some furniture if Earl wants to drive down and get it. (I figured we were stuck with our old furniture for the next 6 years until all the kids finished college.) Earl is lured not just by the offer of a better mattress for our rickety bed, but he could be in Florida for Spencer's 19th birthday at the end of the month.
So once again, he is willing to make the sacrifice, to set off in the car alone, leaving behind the crisp autumn air to drive through the love bugs that hover over the heated highways in Florida during the fall. He'll stop in St. Petersburg to pick up Spencer and spend a long weekend with him at my parents' new house -- screen-enclosed pool along the golf course.
That's just the kind of guy he is -- willing to sacrifice for the kids, whether it's France, Canada or Florida, he'll go the distance for them.
I tease Earl about "the sacrifices" he makes for the kids, but I do feel fortunate that he's in a job where he can take time off and go to the kids. That's part of the price I pay for staying home with them when they were little. I'm now working two jobs that don't pay me if I don't show up. So I stay and work while he travels.
But there's more to it than that. I know when Grace is homesick and talks of missing her bed, her cats, her parents, that if I went, it would be hard for me to leave her and hard for her to let me leave. Earl takes a more no-nonsense approach. He's there to comfort her, to make sure she gets some sleep and eats healthy for a few days. Then he leaves her to the business of studying hard and finishing college.
With one kid up north and the other far south, who knows where Tucker will end up when he graduates in two years. He just asked me to RSVP for a college reception for the University of Alabama that's being held here in Columbus. I know one thing though, he and Earl are not going on a road trip to California or Hawaii to look at colleges next year.

 

Punished by Rewards

I read that book Punished by Rewards a long time ago, when my kids were little. It was easy for me to embrace it. Kids needed to accomplish things and explore things because they were curious and loved to learn. They didn't need parents or grades or candy as a reward for doing what they should do. During the years we homeschooled, I talked to my kids a lot about the intrinsic importance of learning. I never talked about the importance of grades.
And, of all the things I said that my kids ignored, for some reason, they adopted this idea, even after they started school. I tried to explain that if they were going to join the "system" then they had to play by the system's rules. They needed to work hard to get good grades. All three of them have felt that minimal work for a B is smarter than a lot of work for an A. They don't work hard at school. They don't study hard. Their GPAs always seem to hover around 3.4 -- not quite enough to get on the honor roll.
They haven't shyed away from taking honors classes, but they seem content to receive Bs in their honors classes.
Finally, as my second kid is getting ready to graduate, I've made the connection between grades and finances. The better grades my kids get, the more help I'm going to get for them from colleges. Now, this may not be true with public universities, but it is with private colleges that offer aid to middle class families.
That's why, last night, as the third quarter of the school year draws to a close, I offered both of my boys $100 if they'll make the honor roll during 4th quarter. With Spencer, it's just a matter of keep his GPA where it is when he graduates. With Tucker, as a sophomore, there's a chance he could graduate with honors and put more dollars in my pocket when he goes off to college.
I was surprised to hear both boys say they would be happy to take up the challenge. Spencer even took his backpack with him to do homework when he headed off to Kasey's garage where they talk about existentialism and the mysteries of girls.
So, yes, I have become that person who offers her kids money for good grades. I am punishing them with monetary rewards when they should be embracing the intrinsic values of learning.
As Bugs Bunny would say, "If you can't beat 'em, join 'em."

Hectic and Hoarse

This morning, I'm a bit hoarse from all the cheering I did yesterday. It was one of those hectic, yet satisfying days spent supporting our boys in their athletic endeavors. And though the boys weren't always victorious, I'm proud of their achievements.
The day started when I dropped Tucker at the high school at 7 a.m. to catch the bus to the swim meet. I had dashed into Panera to get him bagels and we pulled up right at 7. He climbed on the bus, the swim coach stepped off, and the bus drove away at 7:02 a.m. I sat in the car for a minute, then turned it off and walked over to the rubberized track to run a few miles.
The swim meet, the league championship, started at 9:30 and we got home around 3. So it was a long day. But our boys team came in 3rd, the highest they've ever placed. Tucker swam in two free relays. You know the freestyle stroke: that's the one people sometimes call the crawl. In the final relay, our boys were four points behind the second place team. If they won the relay, they could pull into second place. Two senior boys, along with Tucker and his best friend Josh, who are sophomores, swam the relay. Tucker went last because Josh said he couldn't stand the pressure. Usually, the fastest swimmer goes last, and Tucker and Josh trade places as to who is fastest. I wish I could tell you that when Tucker dived in, a great arcing dive as Josh touched the end of the lane, that he pulled them into first place. He didn't, but he swam an amazing race and came in 3rd by hundredths of a second. All the boys had good times.
As an exhausted Tucker pulled himself out of the pool and walked around the corner toward the coach, he stopped in front of the stands where Earl and I sat. He looked up to the balcony and held up his hand with a 5, then a 2, then a closed fist and a 1. His time swimming the 100 free. 52.1 seconds. That's his fastest time ever. But the real thrill was that he wanted to take the time to share it with us, his parents.
He was exhausted, of course, and so were we. After a brief rest at home, plus some paper grading, we went out into the cold night to watch Spencer play a basketball game.
They played a team that had beaten them by 20 points last game and our team was tied with them for 1st place in the league. At the half, our team was ahead by two. The second half, Spencer started with no fouls, which is unheard of for him. In the third quarter he got four fouls -- many of them questionable. In the fourth quarter, his nemesis on the other team gave him his fifth foul by jumping into the air and landing on his back. What? All the parents screamed. How could that be a foul on Spencer? But it worked twice as the same guy gave our other big guy his fifth foul by landing on his back.
We lost by 4 in the end, but the team played hard and Spencer scored 11 points.
We returned home at 10. I had two more papers to get graded by midnight and with a scratchy throat I fell into bed at 11:30 after a hectic day.

New Drivers and Angry Moms

My 15-year-old son got his temporary driving permit on a Friday, and, unfortunately, my 17-year-old son totaled his car three days later on a Monday. Thus, the number of driving hours for the 15-year-old are limited. We only have one car right now, and who wants to risk that one car with a brand new driver. He's a good driver for someone with no experience, still, it feels pretty iffy.
Yesterday after school, after he informed me that he didn't like the stir fry I planned to make for dinner, he begged me to take him to buy a sub sandwich. Plus, he would drive.
Sometimes I'm vulnerable to these arguments. My boys never seem to find enough food in our house to fill their ravenous bellies and send sustenance to their quickly growing limbs. I agreed to go with him and pay. I sat passively in the passenger seat while he drove the few miles to the sub shop. I gave him a 10-dollar bill and sat listening to NPR while he went in to get his sandwich.
On the drive back, he was turning left and he over turned, a little too far and came close to a car that was waiting to turn left.
I sucked in air through my teeth and made that sound a person makes right before something bad is going to happen. I'm pretty sure it was barely audible from his seat.
"You oversteered back there. You need to straighten out the wheel sooner," I said.
"I know, Mom, but when you make that noise it makes me panic and then I'm going to crash," he said.
I hadn't raised my voice, but the sucking in of air would drive him to crash?
His words. His tone. The thought that I drove with him to the sub shop and paid for his sub while he complained about me breathing. They all pissed me off.
"Fine. I guess you should just drive with Dad instead of me," I declared.
"I guess I will," he replied.
And we didn't speak the rest of the night except after swim practice when he asked why I was so mad.
I told him I was tired of his rudeness, but then I kissed him goodnight and he said, "If you aren't so mad at me in the morning, will you wake me up early?"
I took the boys to get coffee before school this morning.
I drove.

All I needed to know about Parenting I learned from The Middle

Did I say I was tired of parenting? Well, I've only just begun my summer of intensive parenting. This time, I'm taking a page from the ABC television show The Middle. This show has been on for a couple of years and it makes me laugh. It has a teenage son, middle school daughter and elementary-aged son with some quirks. The family lives in Indiana (not too far from Ohio) and the parents both work. They're always rushing to kid activities and their house is a shambles. Dinner usually is fast food take out eaten in front of the television. It's fun to laugh at the things that are similar in my life (teenagers walking around in their underwear) and the things that are different (the fast food in front of the TV). Little did I know that I would employ one of their parenting techniques.
After I wrote about Spencer being in trouble a few days ago, I gave him the shortest bit of leash on Monday, and when I received a call from another parent, I knew that was a mistake. I have now instituted the Axl punishment. Axl is the teenager on The Middle.
Here are a couple of his lines that are so appropriately teenager-ish:

They sent home a note. But you're always talking about how busy you are so I signed if for you. You're welcome.

If you don't want to do anything for us, why'd you even have kids?

This is so not fair. When I turn 30, I am so outta here.

During one episode, Axl's punishment was to stay within 5 feet of a parent at all times. When his parents wanted to have a private conversation, they closed him on the outside of the sliding glass doors. It was hilarious to watch, not so hilarious to live.
I've given Spencer a similar punishment. He stays with a parent, which is fine when I work days and Earl works evenings, but got a little tricky when we both had work at the same time.
I took Spencer with me to a staff meeting Tuesday.
He came along while I measured for costumes at the Community Theater where Grace is working on Pride and Prejudice.
At one point while I was measuring sleeve length and neck size, I looked over and saw a woman talking to Spencer. He shrugged. I asked later what she said. "She asked what line they were on," he said. He had no idea. I think the woman was developmentally challenged, which probably explains why she didn't know Spencer wasn't actually in the play.
As we were leaving the theater, the 20-year-old co-director came running up to Spencer. I was talking to the woman in charge of costumes, but like one of those fuzzy television shots, I felt like we were in the foreground and the camera was actually focused on Spencer who loomed over the tiny 5-foot tall woman. She craned her neck to look up at Spencer's 6-foot, 4-inch frame. I heard her high-pitched voice then the deep rumblings of his reply. As we left, he told me she had asked him to join the play. They need more men.
"I respectfully declined," he said.
Wednesday morning, he got to go to weightlifting with the basketball team, but I asked the assistant coach to drive him home afterwards.
"If you'll drive him home, I won't have to stay during weightlifting and bring him home myself," I explained. The coach agreed, probably imagining that having a mom in the weight room would curtail a lot of swearing and guy talk.
Yesterday afternoon, Spencer heard me talking about going to the grocery. He asked if he could come along so he could get out of the house. He pushed the cart and helped unload groceries onto the belt. I can't remember the last time he went to the grocery with me.
Last night, I had to teach a class. Earl was at work, so Spencer came with me. I didn't introduce him to the class. For two and a half hours, he sat to the side chewing on his cuticles and checking his cell phone for text messages.
We walked out to the car. A couple of guys from the class yelled their goodbyes.
"Was it different than you expected?" I asked as we pulled the car doors shut.
"Yeah, the students were different," he said.
Then, "You're a good teacher, Mom."
"Thanks, Spencie," I said and rubbed his head. I didn't ask for more details. Maybe he was just trying to suck up, but sometimes he's still my little boy.
Tomorrow, he leaves for 3 days of basketball camp, so he's the coach's problem then, although he has taken vows of the straight and narrow.
And next week, I plan to ease back on the constant parenting time. He may be grounded for a few more weeks, but eventually he has to learn to make the right choices without a parent standing over his shoulder.

Teen Trouble

My boys have provided me with some challenges as they muddle their way through their teen years.
But truthfully, they aren't nearly as bad as I was as a teenager.
When I grew up, we thought nothing of drinking and driving along country roads that rose and fell like roller coasters making our stomachs drop. We emptied cans and bottles and flung them out the window like grenades in front of farmhouses.
When I talk with Tracey, my best friend from high school, we admit that we are lucky to be alive.
Today's teens seem much wiser. They talk about designated drivers. They talk about ways to avoid fist fights and whether peer pressure can convince them to do things they shouldn't.
Perhaps, more surprising to me is the despair I feel when I learn that one of my boys has broken a rule. Not because they did something that most teenagers are doing, but because I must now discipline them. And I'm realistic about the fact that whatever consequences they face will probably not dissuade them from this typical teenage behavior.
As we reprimanded Spencer on Saturday, he apologized.
"I'm sorry you found out."
And truthfully, that's what he meant. He wasn't sorry for the behavior but sorry that he upset us.
So, as a parent, I must ask myself, am I telling the boys they need to stop their typical teen behavior or am I only saying they need to be better at hiding it from me?

Black and White

On Tuesdays, I work with a 28-year-old teacher named Emily. She sees the world in black and white. In proclamation after proclamation, she solves the world's problems.
"All 12-year-old girls should have IUDs inserted until they are old enough to support a baby," she said.
Yikes. How traumatizing for the 12-year-old girls still playing with Barbies, I thought.
"I will never have children because I have a life," she said the other day. "I like to stay up late."
That's when I asked her how old she was. My intent was to warn her to watch her assertions because those sorts of things always come back to bite you. How many people have said, "My children would never..." only to eat those words later. (See that's a mixed metaphor because how could the words bite you if you are eating them?)
Emily would not heed my warning.

"Oh, I might change my mind some day, but if I have kids I'm going to homeschool them in a classical education."
Yeah, I tried that too.
It's possible, okay, probable, that at some point I was as strident as Emily. I saw the world as easily fixed if people would only follow my plan.
Emily is pale and slightly pudgy, perhaps because she hates sports or the talk of sports.
"If I had children they would never play sports because I couldn't bear to sit through those kinds of activities," she said.
She has blonde wavy hair that ripples down to her shoulders. Maybe she would be considered pretty in a classical education kind of way.
"How would a 13 or 14 year old have the opportunity to smoke pot or have sex? Where are their parents?" Emily asked.
I suppose Emily planned to spend every moment of every day with her children, even in their teens. No wonder she decided having kids is not for her.
Then I was telling a story about my friend Sheila whose daughter Beth is on a modeling trip to New York City alone at 17, and Sheila is very nervous about this trip.
"Oh my gosh, she's almost 18. She has to let go of her sometime," Emily said.
So, somewhere between 14 where she would spend every moment with her child and 17, she would relinquish total control and send the child alone to New York City.
"If I had children, there would only be two possible reasons -- to control them or to pick a cool name," she proclaimed.
Okay, I'm starting to agree with Emily's decision not to have children. As a parent, the last thing you can do is control your kids. They are always going to pick the opposite of what you would pick for them. I'm sure I didn't know that when I began this parenting journey though.
Just when I was beginning to think that I couldn't take many more of Emily's edicts, I began to feel a little sorry for her.
"People should wait to have sex until they can afford to raise a child," she said.
True, that would be the right thing to do, but who has that $200,000 on cash that it takes to raise an American child to adulthood?
"Well," I said to Emily, "I think it's very difficult for some people to wait to have sex."
"I was 24," she said proudly.
"And besides, sex is not that great."
Ouch. I'm afraid that told me a little bit more about Emily and Emily's marriage than I wanted to know.

You Gotta Have Friends

Oh, what a wonderful world it would be if every morning could begin with coffee and friends.
This morning, at 7:15, well, I actually got there at 7:20, I met my friend Sheila for coffee at Caribou. Today is Sheila's birthday. Happy Birthday, Sheila. (See her blog Life's Many Colors on My Blog List to the right.)
We spent almost two hours talking, mostly, okay, all about kids and the hurdles they face, debating the best ways to help them succeed without interfering too much.
It feels like a cleansing shower to share my worries, to hear Sheila's opinions on what I should do or should have done.
And even though the talk focused on all those kids -- three each -- the worries were our own. So I could feel my concerns about Grace de-escalating.
Sheila, facing her first birthday without one of her kids around, checked her phone every time it lit up to see if Beth was calling or texting. She's in New York alone for a modeling trip. Both of our daughters are in far away New York and we aren't there to be the safety net if they need us. That's scary.
I'm a little nostalgic for the days when we had to talk about whether her son Daniel was too rough when he wrestled with Tucker or whether Tucker was manipulating Daniel to get him in trouble. Those were difficulties we could tackle with a little extra oversight.
Now we talk about careers and college majors, drinking and sex, smoking pot and sporting competitions. (Some things never change in my family and the sports have remained a constant.)
I left the coffee shop a little jittery from the caffeine of the espresso, but feeling much more optimistic about my day.
What are you doing tomorrow morning, Sheila, or any of my other local friends?
Coffee with friends is a great way to start the day.

Highs and Lows

Saturday was full of ups and downs. It started with a crisp 7.5 mile run with my friends in the 25-degree weather. (I'll have a Dream Girl update tomorrow).
My day was scheduled to be full of sporting events. Not the usual college football that I watch, but a swim meet an hour and a half away, and the first regular season basketball game. Of course, the snow started to fall before I left.
I have no practical shoes for snow. I have clogs and crocs and high-heeled boots. I ended up wearing my hiking boots with jeans, which just makes me feel a little too manly. But I drove through the pelting snow and made it to Wright State University before the first race began. This was Tucker's first high school swim meet invitational.
The swim coach put him in the "B" relays at first. Then, after he swam on Tuesday, she moved him up to the "A" relays.
"She thinks I'm bad," he said.
"You'll just have to prove it to her," I said. And he did.
He came in first in the 50 back stroke and broke the old meet record. Then, as his team and another team seesawed back and forth in first place, they lined up to swim the final event. A 200-free relay.
I was nervous. I shook my leg, I screamed, I smacked my hand against my jeans in place of clapping. "Go! Go!" I yelled as the boys each dived in and swam. They were slightly behind the other team throughout. The final swimmer drew even and out touched the other team, winning the race by two hundredths of a second.
"Whoooo!" I yelled loud so the swimmers would hear. All of the parents had erupted into cheers and celebrations. Our boys' team won the meet against the 12 other teams there.
Then I slogged out into the parking lot. I was going to be late for the basketball game which was taking place an hour away. I turned on the windshield wipers to try to scrape the snow off and I searched futilely for a scraper. I used a CD case -- the Blues Brothers. It worked fairly well.
I had to slow down for a few accidents and one tow truck pulling a car out of a ditch. I made it to the basketball game at the start of the second quarter.
One of the dads explained that Spencer had been in the game but was called for traveling because one of the big guys on the other team was pushing him hard enough to scooch him along the court. Any time Spencer went into the game, the fat guys were put back in by the other team. Spencer's added muscle was no match for these 200 plus pounders. At one point, one of the moms pointed out the fat guy had carried Spencer about six feet.

Things did not go well for Spence or his team. He missed four free throws. His rebounding was done, not with sticky hands, but like a volleyball game as the ball was hit and flew into the air. The coach stopped yelling and sat on the bench. They ended up losing by about 17 points.
I parked Spencer's car at the gym and walked the mile home in the quiet night around 10 p.m. The sidewalk shone with ice and I windmilled my arms a few times to keep my balance.
When Spencer arrived home, he said, "It's just embarrassing to try that hard and be that bad."
"Everybody has a bad night," I told him. "You can't quit trying. Then you'd hate it."
"I did quit trying at the end," he said. I nodded.
That's when the coach finally took him out. The coach could tell.
Someday, maybe both my boys will have great sport days or great academic days or great days in love. For now though, as volatile teenagers, they have up and down days, usually all within 24 hours.
I'm glad I can be there for them, whether to celebrate their wins or mourn their losses.

Cell-Phone Parenting

I hate being a cell-phone parent.
Maybe that is what I have been since my kids started school four years ago and I gave all three of them a phone. It's convenient to keep track of them as they roam our little town. "Where are you?" I will text.
"At the turf," comes the reply a second later.
They know they must answer their phones when I call or text, or they risk losing their cell phones. "You have that phone so I can reach you!" I threaten.
Having one child go far away puts a whole new spin on cell-phone parenting.
When I went to college, my parents arranged for me to await their call each Sunday night. I would linger in the lobby waiting for the one phone in the dorm to ring. I wasn't very mature at age 17 when I went away to college. I'm sure my conversations with my parents depended on what kind of mood I was in right at that moment.
Now, Grace can contact me and I can contact her during every up and down of her life. And we do.
My friend Michelle explained that the freshman year is like a W -- it has its ups and downs. They love it one moment then hate it the next. I think Grace's first few weeks have been like WWWWWW. She made friends. She loved everyone in her dorm.But, scheduling her classes was a mess -- she hated it. Their dorm made a music video, but she missed an assignment because she didn't see the posting.
They went swimming in the river and jumped off a rope swing, but she lost her student id so she couldn't get into the dorm or go to the cafeteria.
When Grace calls or texts with these dilemmas, she doesn't really ask what she should do. She is just sharing her life. (Okay, I did help with scheduling classes:P)
When she missed the assignment in class, she had already gone to the professor to see how to make it up. When she lost her student id, she went to security. She called me as she trudged across campus in the 95-degree heat to get her driver's license. She wanted to complain. That's fine. I can take the complaining. When I check with her later, she is usually fine.
Learning about the ups and downs as they occur feels exhausting. It's like watching a far away movie that my kid is starring in. I can't affect the outcome at all.
Last night, the swim team was having a ritual. Grace was petrified. Were they going to be hazed?
She tried to ferret out details. Red wine would be involved. "Don't wear anything that you mind getting stained" was my advice. Were the older girls seriously going to force them to drink? I tried to be reassuring.
Meanwhile, she arranged for her roommate and a friend to walk over to retrieve her from the swim team ritual at 11 p.m. That way, if she had been forced to drink, she would get home safely. That seems like a smart exit strategy.
Overall, she's making mature choices.
Now I just need to get to the point that I can let go of the worries about her as she burrows her way out of the bottom of that W and heads to the next peak. I'm sure that with a three-day weekend upon us, she will be soaring along the top of the W all weekend long.

Here's Grace teaching her baby cousin, Caroline, how to text in case she ever needs some cell-phone parenting from her mom.

Angst-Ridden on a Dark, Snowy Road

I was driving alone in the dark tonight to a basketball game nearly an hour away. The road was smeary with snow, both blowing and falling, and I was late. The game had started three minutes before and I had no idea where I was.
I hated being late, although I frequently am late. I imagined Grace was in the car. She reminds me, "Breathe" in a kind of condescending way since she is much more likely to panic than I am.
I'd had a busy day grading papers. Then I had taken Spencer to pick up Subway for the basketball team and dropped him at the bus with the food.
"We need cookies," he said.
"I don't have time to bake cookies," I told him.
"Buy them. Two packs."
I had two packs of Oreos in the car ready to be delivered. And somewhere in this dark night, Spencer was sitting on a bench, a sophomore at a Varsity tournament game. He probably wouldn't even get on the floor. Still, I wanted to be there. I didn't want to let him down.
That's when I spoke out loud to the empty car: "You're doing the best you can."
The words kind of hung there for a minute. .
It's true. I try hard to be a good mom for all of my kids. Sometimes I succeed; sometimes I fail.
I felt tears sting my eyes because those words felt so true.
I'm doing the best I can. Nowhere near perfect, but it's what I have to offer.
I got to the game in the second quarter and maybe Spencer's eyes found me, but for sure they found the cookies on the bus after the game.