Celebrating Successes

Just a quick post to let you know about the busy-ness of my weekend. Yesterday, Spencer graduated from college. We were so proud of him since for years he has been proclaiming that he didn't think college was for him.

He started off at Eckerd College in St. Petersburg, Florida. He met some amazing people and definitely continued his interest in the environment, but he also went a little off track with partying as college students often do.

So after two years, he came home that summer and transferred to Ohio University. After two and a half years there, he graduated this week with a degree in Sports Marketing. He has a real passion for sports and is pretty good at talking to people, so hopefully he'll be able to find a job that suits his skills.

And he talks about someday becoming a basketball coach or an athletic director, so maybe he'll even go back to college after he's had a break from it.

And that might have been the extent of the excitement, if not for some pressure from my in-laws. We planned to gather Sunday afternoon, once Tucker got off work, to go as a family to pick a Christmas tree. Although Grace and Tucker both have their own apartments now, Earl and I wanted the family to get a tree ad decorate it together since we plan to be living in France next year at Christmastime.
We thought we'd get a tree then go out to dinner at a steak place because Spencer loves steak-frites. Then my brother-in-law asked when the party was. We invited him and his wife to join us for dinner. Then his daughter with her husband and two children asked when the party was. We knew we couldn't host everyone at the steak restaurant, so we changed plans and are now throwing a party here at our tiny house.
Just Earl's family and one of our neighbors who has been supportive throughout Spencer's college careers.
That means I'll spend the day cleaning. I have pulled pork in the crock pot cooking with some onions and barbecue sauce. We'll buy chicken wings (another favorite of Spencer's). I'll make cheesy potatoes and salad. I also have brownies with white chocolate chips and will make a pan of fudge. Then we'll buy an ice cream cake from Graeters. The menu is made complicated by the gluten-free parts of the family. Otherwise, I probably would have gone with a pan of lasagna.

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.

Raising Adult Children

A lot of times, I write about my frustrations with my children,  now ages 24, 22 and 20. No more teenagers, yet this summer, we all find ourselves together living within our small house.
As the children grew, the house began to feel smaller, of course. Tucker is 6-feet tall and Spencer is 6-foot 4-inches tall, while Grace is 5-foot 10-inches. Everyone in the family towers over me. And if we get in the living room together, everyone's long legs jut into the middle and make me feel a little claustrophobic.

We convinced Grace to live at home until after a trip to London this fall. She has an apartment ready to move into when she returns, if she returns. She's hoping to find work in London. We told her it didn't make sense to rent a place if she might move. Getting through a summer with her brothers in the house is  proving to be a challenge though. The boys believe they have an innate right to choose the television stations, even though there's another equally good television in the basement.
And the two boys can be intolerant of Grace when she's dramatic. That's why she's an actress though.
Yesterday while I was at work, Grace and Spencer got into a fight. This wasn't the first time.
Grace had said hurtful words to Spencer earlier in the summer, and now Spencer had a chance to fling them back at Grace.
As I talked to them both individually last evening, I realized what they didn't -- the words had hurt each of them.
I mean, Grace knew she was hurt by Spencer's words, and Spencer knew he was hurt by Grace's words, but neither of them realized how hurtful they had been to the other.
"He's holding onto that pain a month later," I explained to Grace.
And I also let Spencer know how deep his shot had landed on his sister.
Last night, as Spence headed to bed, he stopped by Grace's bedroom. I didn't hear his apology, but I was encouraged that he'd reached that place of maturity. He didn't want her hurting.
And that's my hope for the future with my kids. They realize how important they are to each other, even when they're fighting. Their opinions matter. Their judgment of each other matters, even when they say it doesn't.
Tucker has vacated the house for 10 days, going on a hiking trip to Utah with some friends.

He texted me throughout the day, and night, as they drove. "To Illinois."
"In Nebraska where the time changes."
"Driving straight thru instead of stopping."
"Just got to Salt Lake City."
With five of them in the car, they drove overnight.
Sometimes it's easier for Tucker and me to communicate when he's far away. He's still in that stage where I might not get more than a grunt or nod out of him in the morning or when he comes home from work.
As I was walking this morning, I heard a song.

And it immediately took me back to a time with Tucker. 

When Tucker was 11, his brother and sister had started school while Tucker continued to homeschool. He was at a swimming peak, and the two of us often drove to swim meets together.
Tucker would make CDs for us to listen to in the car, and this was one of the songs he included.
I remember listening to the song and dancing in the driver's seat, and embarrassing Tucker. But we laughed about it.
Every song I hear from that CD reminds me of those good shared experiences, and the kid who is in there and might, like a butterfly, emerge again.
Meanwhile, he's doing what he needs to. He works five days a week, he's taking college classes, he's playing soccer or Frisbee golf or working out, and he's spending time with friends.
Someday we may laugh again about something ridiculous, but in the end, I know he loves me, even if he isn't that 11-year-old anymore.
Maybe you can remind me the next time I'm kvetching about my kids, that there's good too. I just have to remember it.

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. 

Birthday Celebrations

Today is Spencer's birthday.
Spencer is my middle child, my oldest son. He has taught me more than any of my other children.
Grace and Tucker are more like me in temperament and thought patterns.
Spencer came out speaking truth to power. In the case of him being little, I was the power.
What Spencer does is name emotions.
I remember when he was four or five and I was trying to convince him he should go to Grace's dance recital. I can't remember the words I used, but he looked at me with his big blue eyes and said, "Are you trying to guilt me into going?"
Yes, yes, I was, I realized, although I hadn't thought about it that way.

Another time, he and his friend Michael were playing a game and they got into a fight. I don't remember the fight, but I remember Spencer's words. "I think you care more about winning than you do about our friendship."

Don't get me wrong. Spencer isn't all wisdom. Being his mom has brought me joy and sorrow.

He makes impetuous mistakes. He drinks too much and hangs out with a party crowd. Just a few weeks ago, at a house party, one of his friends was getting beaten up. Spencer handed another friend his glasses and waded into the fray to defend his friend. I admire Spencer's willingness to defend his buddies, but the friend who held the glasses knew that Spencer couldn't afford to get in trouble. He followed Spencer, picked him up and carried him away from the fight. Not an easy task if you've seen my 6-foot, 4-inch son. Luckily, he's still pretty thin. The original friend getting beaten up ended up with two broken jaws and a collapsed lung. Spence sat by him waiting for the ambulance to arrive.

Each time I hear a story like this, I'm so glad that Spencer is still alive. I talk to him, lecture him, about not putting himself in situations like this, but I'm not sure they stick.

When the phone rings and I see a strange number, my heart beats a little faster. Is Spencer hurt? Is he in trouble? My fears for him continue even though he's on schedule to finish college next summer with a double major in marketing and sociology.

If he can survive these young adult years, I know he'll be fine because I know the heart that lies within him.
Happy birthday, Spencer.

Wayward Children

Even as I write this, I can see the humor of my heartbreak; I know that someday I will laugh at the situation. And let me warn you that logic does not work with an angry 19-year-old.
"I don't even believe you're my parents anymore!" my 19-year-old son yelled as he raced down the stairs.
This was the second time he had walked away from the conversation, and the first time he slammed a trash bag against the door frame until it burst.
You might wonder what caused this outburst.
I told him that we wouldn't pay for his apartment while he attended college unless he passed his classes.
I'll just wait a minute while you re-read that last sentence. Let it sink in.
As parents, we were insisting that this boy, who went to college last year with scholarships in hand because of his high test scores, attend class and pass the classes, if he wanted us to pay his rent.
Many teenagers or young adults might be happy if their parents paid for their college. Others might be thrilled if parents paid their rent, but apparently we went too far in agreeing to pay for both if he received good grades.
If you are trying to understand this logically, give up.

Last fall, my youngest son left for a 4-year university. A perfect storm of illness, wisdom teeth infection, a girlfriend at home, and a room full of four guys convinced him that college wasn't for him. He only passed one of four classes he took.
He moved home in January and attended a local community college. Again, only passing one of four classes. In May, before we knew he hadn't passed the classes, we let him move in with a friend. The two of them started a business, which blew up, along with the friendship in July. We never liked the roommate, so were happy to have him move home. He had talked about getting a house with three other guys, one of whom went to high school with him.
This past Saturday, we scheduled my son's classes for the fall. He has decided to take a two-year welding program. That's fine, but we don't really see him sticking with a trade job. He has never been a hands-on kind of guy, the kind who likes to get dirty or even play with Legos.
While scheduling classes, I asked him to pull up his class from this summer, and he hadn't passed it, just by a small amount, but still.
The next day, I asked my son to join me for breakfast. He didn't have time. On Monday, I again suggested we go somewhere to talk. No time.
On Tuesday, I saw him in the kitchen and attempted to bring up a conversation about the possibilities for him this fall. He could return to the 4-year university and live in an apartment with his brother while taking a few classes to explore what he wants to do.
His eyes went blank, as if he'd pulled down shades, like a character from a cartoon.
"Why do you do that?" I asked. "You aren't even listening to anything I say."
"Because you always second guess me," he said.
"When have I done that?" I asked.
"Now," he said.
And that's it. Just this one time that I thought he might not want to be a welder and knowing that he hadn't succeeded in the class he took this summer.
On Thursday, he decided to make peace and let me know that he and his friends had found a 4-bedroom house to rent.
That's when I released the bombshell that we wouldn't pay for an apartment until he passed his classes.
"So I have to live here until December?" he asked.
"Yes," I responded.
He couldn't possibly do that. Living here was impossible! He didn't even want to go to school at all.
The situation didn't improve, and when he stormed out the door to go to work, I was left wondering if he would quit school and simply move out.
It's not what I want. I want to help him succeed at college, and I think I'm doing everything that I can toward that.
He came home last night after I was in bed. No one has talked about what will happen, what his future holds.
Right now, we're all kind of waiting to see what happens.
I'm sure I broke my parents' hearts when I was his age. I was rude and entitled. I traveled to faraway cities to live a couple of times.
To adults, it seems silly that he wouldn't take the offer of college and get a degree to be whatever he wants to be.
Last night, I was talking to a student, probably in his mid 20s, who told me he is having trouble getting to class because he has to take care of his 1-year-old daughter, and the girl's mother wants nothing to do with her. We talked about how difficult it is to go to school while raising a family and working.
He told me his 17-year-old sister thought she didn't want to go to college, and he was trying to convince her to do it now.
"You know," he said, "there's some people who can't learn from watching other people. They have to make those mistakes themselves before they learn."
And that rang true for me.
In the midst of my broken heart, in the midst of standing fast to the rules we've set, in the midst of loving my son in spite of his misguided path as he grows up, I know I have to let him make his own way and hope that I'm around when he's ready to ask for guidance.

Long-Distance Parenting

Today, I had one of those days where I wonder if I had too many children. Not really, but I received two frantic phone calls from my kids.
First was Grace.

She's on a European adventure, and for the most part, she's on her own. She headed to Aix en Provence today to stay with my lovely friend Delana. Grace took the TGV (the very fast train) from Paris to Aix. She wrangled her big black suitcase from the Paris hotel to the train station then hoisted it up the steps. She had three hours or so until the train got into Aix en Provence. Then she would take a bus to the city and Delana would meet her there.
Apparently, Grace fell into a very deep slumber, something like Sleeping Beauty but without the brambles growing up around her.
When she awoke, she wasn't being kissed by a prince, but she realized that the train was pulling out of a station. Thinking she had missed her stop in Aix en Provence, she asked the people around her.
She had, in fact, missed her stop in Aix en Provence and had continued to sleep while the train stopped in Marseille and left there too!
I didn't think the train went any farther than Marseille, which, as you may know, is nestled right into the corner of the Mediterranean Sea. But apparently it kept going, as she realized when she woke up.
The TGV is not one of those trains that stops frequently. I've been on the TGV when it left Paris and didn't stop until Aix, or Avignon at the earliest.
For all I knew, the next stop could be Spain or Italy.
As we talked by cell phone, spending $1 per minute to ponder the possibilities, Delana called to see if she was on the bus.
So we hung up and I tried to take a nap.

This area looks close together, but you can see how close Italy and Spain are too.

Unlike my daughter who falls into a deep sleep easily, I've been up since 2 a.m. I taught class at 8 a.m. and have to teach again at 6 p.m., so I thought a nap was a necessity for me. But I lay in bed wondering what had happened to Grace. I kept incessantly checking Facebook, where I had posted her dilemma. Helpful friends in the U.K. and France were giving me tips or offering suggestions (Thanks, Anne and Corey!) Anne called the rail office to see where the train went. Corey, who lives in Provence, offered to pick her up in Aix or Marseille or Avignon.
Realizing I couldn't possible sleep, I called her back on that expensive cell line to see what had happened.
She had just exited the train at Toulon. The train people gave her a note that allowed her to return to Aix en Provence, where, she should be right about now. Fingers crossed.
As I gave  up napping, I sat with a book on the couch and my phone rang. Spencer is in Athens. Not that Athens, the one in Ohio. He has his first apartment which he moved into a few weeks ago.

He set up the electricity for the apartment before he moved in, and it was all working when we moved his furniture in. Apparently, though, he didn't bother opening the letters from the electric company which told him to pay a deposit.
So last week, just after he got internet set up in his apartment, the lights went off.
The electricity was turned off, which meant, he had no internet, no stove, no hot water, and no way to charge his cell phone, which also serves as his alarm clock.
It's been a bit of a challenge, but when he came home Saturday, I helped him set up his online account and make a payment to the electric company. We hoped he'd get electricity back today.
When he phoned, I figured he would tell me the power was back on.
Instead, he said, "The carbon monoxide detector is going off."
"What? Are you sure it isn't the smoke alarm?" I asked.
"It says carbon monoxide detector right on it," he replied.
Since it is plugged in, I thought maybe the electricity had come back on, but it hadn't.
We told Spencer to go outside and to call the maintenance guy to come right away.
He didn't call or text to update me, but when I texted him, he said it just needed a new battery rather than having actual carbon monoxide in his place.
Earl was home for lunch and we both looked at each other. What would come next?
Tucker just took our cat home with him the other day. Would he call to say the cat was lost?
We're ready for anything, and still wondering if we had too many kids.

Different Paths

All three of my kids are smart. Grace has a terrific memory; she excels at writing, literature and, at one point, understanding DNA. Spencer was always a math hound who loves history. He wipes most people away at chess, as he sees the board and all it's possible moves. He can tell you pretty much every play he ever made in every game in his high school basketball years.
Tucker, my youngest, was the most well-rounded. In addition to an excellent

memory, he had a good balance of reading, writing, and math. He loved history and created fun stories in journalism. He took mostly Advanced Placement classes his last two years of high school. He understood how to succeed in school. He got they system in a way that Grace and Spencer never did after all those years of homeschooling.
Last year, when we went for his annual checkup, the doctor asked what colleges he was thinking about. He told her he'd been accepted at Pitt, University of Missouri and Ohio University. The doctor turned to me and said, "It doesn't matter where he goes; He'll be fine."
And I agreed.
School was pretty easy for him.
Then college happened and things seemed to go downhill quickly.
Circumstances lined up against him. He started having panic attacks in the summer. Then he had his wisdom teeth pulled the week before he left for college. They became infected the first week he was there.
He came home nearly every weekend for doctor or dentist visits.
He also had a steady girlfriend who was still in high school, so he came home regularly to see her.
Living in the dorms did not agree with Tucker.
He had three roommates. One of them was his best friend, Josh. The other two were also friends from home. With four guys in the room, Tucker never had any alone time. As an introvert, he needed alone time to restart his engines.
At my insistence, he took his guitar alone to school. At home, we would frequently hear him playing the guitar in the basement. At school, he took it out to play only once, when another friend begged him to play a song.
All of these circumstances, plus some apathy since he didn't know what he wanted to do, caused him to end up with bad grades in almost all of his classes.
We agreed to let him come home in December and take classes at the local community college.
He signed up for 4 classes, and yesterday I asked him how his grades ended up. He only passed one of those classes.
None of them were too hard for him. He had Calculus in high school and failed an Algebra class in college. History, one of his passions, he failed too. Economics joined the dominoes of failures.
So after a year of college, he has two classes that he passed.
I don't even want to add up the amount of money we paid for those two classes.
This summer, Tucker, 19, is signed up for a welding class.
I don't think he'll like it. He has never been the kind of guy who played with Legos or built things. But we're giving him a chance. He can earn a two-year degree in welding at the community college.
This class is his final opportunity with us footing the bill though. He'll need to do well in this class for us to help pay for the rest of the welding classes.
And if he decides he wants to go back to college in the future, he'll be responsible for the tuition there too.
That's a hard choice, because we've paid for college for Grace and Spencer. They've taken out the government loans available to them and we've paid the rest, taking out some loans ourselves.
But Tucker's choices force us to draw the line.
While he's in school, we're paying his rent, but if he's finished with school then he'll need to pay for his own apartment too. Not to mention his phone. When do we stop paying for his contacts and his monthly medicine too?
I'm not sure, but I know he's going to face the real world much sooner than the other two did.
I'm not counting Tucker out as a failure. He has just chosen a different path.
Tucker and a friend have started a landscaping business. They're working quite a bit and that could turn into a money maker for him. I fully support him in becoming an entrepreneur, and maybe he'll be the most successful of all of our children.
I just never pictured any of our children not going to college, and especially not Tucker.  

Another Chance

Yesterday, I wrote about the challenges I face while raising my sometimes stubborn and emotional 19-year-old, but earlier in the week I had been reminded that the two of us have more opportunities to work out our relationship.
On Thursday, my husband called from the newspaper and asked if I remembered a boy named Chase. I did. He ran track with Tucker, and we had been at some parties with his parents.
The boy died in a car accident the night before.
He was 19, going to college, running his own lawn care business during the summer, and he crashed on a curve in the country near his college campus. Not wearing a seat belt, he was thrown from the car and died on the scene.
As I ran the next morning early, I passed the boy's house, and I wondered if his parents were awake. Then I wondered if they'd slept. How could you possibly sleep if suddenly you son was dead?
I knew that they must have been awakened by the police the night before since the accident was at 1 a.m. The police would have known the boy's identity and notified his parents.
As I continued to run, I remembered the feeling when my own 18-year-old sister had died. That feeling that it must be a mistake, that she would walk through the door again any minute. That feeling continued for weeks afterward -- the anticipation that she'd be home.
And I also remembered waking the morning after with the sun sparkling in through the window and feeling happy, until, like a brick hitting me in the chest, the realization came that my sister had died.
There's a moment, just after waking, when it feels like everything might be okay, until the memory flashes the tragedy and it all comes back.
I didn't know Chase well enough to go to his funeral, but I'll be thinking of his family, and being  a little more gentle with my own kids.
We're so lucky to have them alive and in one piece. If we've had a fight or said hasty words, we have another chance to smooth it over.
No matter what path they've chosen, they're alive and at least we have another chance.

Boys to Men

I'm not a very honest blogger.
I think I avoid writing about the topics that are hurtful. Instead, I attempt to be funny or divert to book plots.
That's why, right now, I have a blog post languishing that begins:

So, he moved out yesterday and left without kissing me goodbye.

Both of my boys have now moved into apartments, and they were very different departures.

Yes, you can still see his ribs. He never did put
on weight while living in the college dorms.

Spencer came home from college for about a week. He slept most of the days away, caught up with his friends in the evenings, and even found some time to scrape the garage so we can paint it.
He drove back to school on Sunday with his car filled with clothes and an air mattress so that he can camp out in his house until we take his furniture down on Saturday.
He texts me things like, "Can you bring down a spatula?" and "The mac and cheese seems really watery." So I had to tell him he should drain off the water before he added the cheese.

I drove down Thursday with his desk, and we hung curtains and took a trip to the grocery store to stock up on essentials.
Spence is far from perfect, but he's interested in talking about things. So I can tell him about my classes and students or have conversations about Grace and her adventures. And he shares a lot with me too.
He hasn't even complained about the flamingo and palm tree dishes I bought for him at the garage sales last weekend.
Earl and I are going back down today with a truckload of furniture so he'll have his real bed, a couch and a dresser.
The apartment is fine on the inside, but the outside looks like typical student apartments, kind of run down with steps crumbling and the porch overhang a bit rotten. It's the kind of place that parents would never approve of renting, but college students are a bit more eager. I'm sure it'll be fine for one year.
Spence has already texted the maintenance guy about a leak under the sink, a crack in a window and a slow draining bathtub.
He's still waiting to have internet installed. He called before he moved in and set up installation, but that internet company had some equipment challenges. So yesterday he called the other internet company. He's learning about the frustrations of dealing with utilities. I'm sure the experience will be an eye-opener for him.
So there was the peaceful transition of one boy to his first apartment.

Tucker moved out two weeks ago, on May 1.
I was gone to work and when I came home, a beat up pickup truck behind the garage was partially loaded with furniture.
He and his new roommate carried out mattresses and a desk and dresser then bags full of clothes. When we asked if he needed help, he said, "No."
And he left then, without kissing me goodbye.

Even through all the tense times we've had since Tucker returned home from college in December and lived at home throughout the winter and into spring, he has leaned over to let me plant a kiss on his bearded cheek most days, whether in the morning as he left for class or in the afternoon as he left for work, or even when he came home at night from time out with his friends.
19 is hard.
He thinks he's an adult, but he's still making adolescent mistakes.
We had said we wouldn't help pay for an apartment. He could live at home, or he could go to college and live in a dorm.

All three of my kids on Tucker's 19th birthday in March.

This spring, we agreed to let him move into an apartment with a friend in the hope it might help our relationship. We didn't seem to have conversations, but terse snapping one liners at each other.
He hated being home and having to answer questions like, "Did you go to class?"; "How are your grades?"; "What are you doing tonight?"
The questions might even be polite, like "how was your day?" but he bristled each time.
So after he left, I was heart broken that things were so bad between us.

But just two days before he left, I was in bed around 11, with my door closed to keep the cats from annoying me, as they like to do when I try to sleep. Suddenly, the door was pushed open and Tucker said, "Mom, will you come help me?"
I jumped up and went into the bathroom where he was leaning over a trash can throwing up.
He had a splitting pain in his head. He felt sure it was a brain tumor, as many of us do.
"I think it's a migraine," I said.
I got a cold cloth and put it on the back of his neck. I found the Excedrin migraine medicine and he was able to keep that down.
I settled him on the couch and sat next to him until he stopped sweating and seemed able to relax.
Then my husband took my spot and sat up until he fell asleep.

So even as Tucker brusquely moved out of our house, I remembered that just two nights before, he had turned to me when he needed me.
And my goal will be that he knows I'm here for him. That doesn't mean that I will bail him out of every situation or give him money, but I'll always love him, and he can move back home if he wants to.

The day after he moved out, he came back home and ate with us. On Sunday, he texted me and asked what time family dinner was. I hadn't actually been planning a family dinner, but since Grace was leaving for Europe and Spencer was home, it was an excellent idea.
I saw Tucker most days the week after he moved out. When I went to the grocery store, I bought an extra gallon of milk for him.
I offered him a box of Raisin Bran Crunch that hadn't been opened yet.
"No, that's okay. We only have one bowl," he said.
So during the neighborhood garage sales last week, I found Spencer's flamingo dishes and another set of dishes for Tucker's apartment for only $5.
Last week, he and his roommate drove to Colorado to stay for the week and bring a friend home from college.

Crystal Lake at Pike's Peak

We've had some heated exchanges about the amount of data he's using on his phone, but he also sent me some lovely scenic pictures.

Garden of the Gods

Our relationship still has many mountains ahead, up and downs, but I know he loves me, and I'll keep working to treat him like an adult -- an independent adult, and hopefully he'll move toward that title.

Also connecting with Saturday Snapshot today because there are some lovely photos in spite of the very long post.

Homecoming

The sound level at my house has definitely taken a turn toward noisy. Yesterday Spencer and a friend came home. The friend caught a plane to California and I was so happy that Spencer was within driving distance this year. 

Then today I drove back to Ohio University and picked up Tucker. We loaded all of his clothes and books and bedding since Tucker decided not to go back in January. 

Although he comes home coughing, I could feel the tension leave him as we drove off into the sunshine. He loosened up and talked about what he didn't like about living in a dorm and why he prefers to live in Columbus. 

I expect as he settles into life at home, he might have some regrets about moving home. He plans to continue taking classes and to transfer to Ohio State in the fall. 

I know someone who is thrilled to see Tucker come home. 

Saturday Snapshot and A More Somber Subject

Today, I would like nothing more than to merely post a photo of the leaves turning brilliant colors. I was afraid the  leaves were simply going to fall off without changing, but I was wrong.
Here are a couple of trees near my house. The leaves have turned an orangish red that looks almost pink in some lights.

But my thoughts are on a more somber subject.
This week, I found out one of my college students died. "Passed away" was the wording they used in the email I received.
Elisha (pronounced like the Biblical prophet) was in my class this summer and again this fall. (Two different classes.) He was tall and slim. He loved football and planned to try out for a spot as a running back in the National Football League, even though he didn't make the team in college.
He came to my class after two years at another college. I was surprised that his writing was full of run-on sentences. We sat together that second class and read through his writing. I taught him that he paused naturally where the sentences needed punctuation. We kept working on it throughout the semester.
He finished class early, completing all of the work for the course before the end. And he moved on to the next class in September, which I also taught.
A few weeks ago, I asked him what was going on. "You aren't getting all the work done ahead of time like last semester."
He shook his head and promised to do better.
I didn't know what was going on with Elisha. I didn't understand then that this 20-year-old guy had started hanging out with a new crowd.
I didn't know that until I saw the newspaper story.
The story began by saying Elisha's parents filed a missing person's report when he didn't come home Saturday morning. He always came home. It was not in his nature to stay out all night.
I have a son the same age as Elisha, and he had stayed out all night the weekend before when he came home from college. I texted and called him until he finally responded that he had spent the night at his friend's house.
So immediately, I felt a kinship with Elisha's parents. Here we are trying to raise our sons past this tricky phase of life when they think they're independent but they're still making some very questionable choices.
My son has gotten himself into some trouble, but his choices haden't ended him where Elisha's choices did.
Elisha was with three other guys when two of them went into a store and robbed it. A SWAT team was waiting for them, and two of the guys were killed. Elisha was one of those.
I don't know if Elisha was a robber or if he was in the car. I don't know if he had a gun.
I do know, from the news story, that he had never been in trouble before, only traffic tickets.
Yes, he did make an awful choice, and that choice ended his life.
I just wonder how many times boys make decisions that bring them to the brink of death, that allow them to slip past narrowly.
I want to reassure Elisha's parents, that I believe he was a good kid who made some bad decisions at the end. But when I picture going to the funeral, I'm afraid they might have an open casket, and I keep picturing the slim shoulders of this boy sitting in my classroom.
And then it's only a tiny step to imagine that my own boys are squeaking past bad choices. No, they aren't tempted to rob stores or commit other crimes, but they all make stupid decisions.
I don't want to dismiss what Elisha and his friends did.
I just think 20 year olds don't think very far ahead; they don't see the consequences.

The Challenge of Raising Impetuous Children

I've been thinking about my son Spencer a lot this week.
From the moment he was born, that boy has been barreling through life. He rarely stops to think through decisions, which makes him a great guy to hang out with, but a little harder to parent.
Just on Friday we had a nice talk. He wanted to put down a deposit for a house that he will move into in June. This all came about quickly on Wednesday, and I suggested maybe he should go talk to someone (i.e. a counselor) about his decision-making processes.
"I don't want to talk to someone about my feelings," he complained. He said he shares his feelings with his friends, and they all give each other advice. I reluctantly pointed out that a counselor might have some different, professional kinds of advice.
Someday, Spencer will probably invent something fabulous or lead a revolution. He is never still. Even as a baby, he would toss and turn, flipping from one side to the other until...suddenly he was asleep. And I'd know he was asleep because that's when he'd stop moving.

As a 4-year-old boy, I remember walking through a Medieval French village with him. He stood at the bottom of a stone wall, sized it up and decided, yep, he could get over that wall. So he started to climb it.
That's the kind of kid he is. He rarely sees something that he thinks he can't tackle.
In the photo above, he's on a French merry go round, one that firmly says no switching horses during the ride. Every time that carousel rotated, Spence was on a different horse, animal, or boat. He just needed to try everything, even when the French attendant wagged his finger at Spencer warningly. Spencer just grinned his irrepressible smile and raised his eyebrows.
He is the kid who, at times, I most like to be around. He's sensitive to my feelings. He asks about my thoughts. But he's also the kid I most dread getting phone calls from because he often lands himself in hot water.
When he gets himself in trouble, I feel such a gnawing in the pit of my stomach -- that fear that maybe this time he won't be able to bounce back. After a day or so, I can see with more perspective that we'll all be okay. Things may not go as we planned, but nothing is irretrievable.

The College Race

I'm ignoring my blog this week as I rush to get my boys ready for college. Yesterday morning, I was just shaking my head. The boys might be feeling a little angst, but that is not translating into getting prepared. I made a list for them and told them to go to the store. They couldn't find the car keys. Tucker remembered having them the night before at a celebration. He immediately got on his phone and started texting to see if anyone had seen the keys. I told the boys to take the other car to the store. They left then a minute later reappeared. They had forgotten the list and the gift card they were supposed to use at the store.

New shoes are a necessity.

This kind of thing went on all day with just flustered activity here and there. We had a steak dinner and I planned it for 6 because Earl was supposed to be at a meeting at 7. But, he didn't get home from work in time to join us. We figured no big deal since Spencer is only going to be an hour and a half awainstead of a thousand miles away. I take Spencer down to college today so he can go through orientation. Then Tucker moves in tomorrow. The hectic will be replaced by an eerie quiet, I suspect. Hope you all are having peaceful weeks.

Saturday Snapshot -- White Water Rafting

One more picture of my sons and husband on their white water rafting trip.
This is a picture that they paid for as they were rafting down the river.
Spencer looks like a brute with his paddle in the air, while Tucker and Earl look like they're doing all the work.
Terrific picture of all of them, including the guide on the back.

Apparently, at one point, Tucker was flipped off the back of the raft and caught in a hydraulic. The guide reached in his paddle and helped pull him out. Since Tucker has been a swimmer year-round for 10 years and made it to the State swim meet this year, I figure he could have swum his way out, but what do I know about white-water rafting.

Restful Sleep

First, shameless self promotion: my novel The Summer of France is only 99 cents on Kindle today, both in the U.S. and the U.K.
Here's a review that was posted yesterday on Amazon by someone who calls herself  "crazy for reading"

Loved this story! I stayed up till after midnight each night reading it after my family went to bed. So many twists and turns I didn't want to quit.

If you haven't read it, hope you'll give it a try.

Today, my family will gather again, five adults in our small house, for another week before my sons head off to college next week. (Grace is in and out since she has an apartment about 20 minutes away.)
But on the first night that I spent home alone since...forever maybe, I went to bed and did not wake  up for seven hours, until the cat jumped on me at 6 a.m.
Some people think that sleep is only disrupted while kids are babies, but I can tell you that teenagers disrupt sleep even more.

Here's Tucker in his portable hammock. He looks kind of bored.

In my house, someone is pretty much always awake and rambling around the house. They come in at different hours. They're searching for food at 3 in the morning. The television in the living room may be too loud. The floors squeak, the toilet flushes.
I cannot remember the last time that I went to sleep and was oblivious to everything until the next morning.
It was beautiful.
Of course, part of that restful sleep might have to do with the fact that I knew the boys were with their father camping, rather than on a college campus, where they might or might not find trouble. So I may not sleep so peacefully once they've moved to college.
I'd better enjoy them while I can!

Peaceful

Shhh.
Don't tell anyone, but I have a day to myself.
I have work to do, but I don't have to go to work.
I might spend the day writing or reading books or swinging in the hammock as the sunny day hovers around 75 degrees today.
The kids in the neighborhood started school today. They start early so the high schoolers can finish the semester at Christmas.

My guys have headed out to go white-water rafting. It was an effort for them to get out the door. Husband urging them to get out of bed, gathering sleeping bags, the right shoes, light-weight jackets for the rafting trip. A coffee run.
One last trip to the store for a can of gas to heat the cookstove. And finally.
The car pulled away.

The boys let our house cat roam free as they prepared for the trip, so I had to track him down before the car pulled away. I held him and stood by the garage. When the car started to move, he dug his claws into my collar bones. Just a reminder of why he isn't an outdoor cat. He's petrified by cars.
As they pulled away, I pushed the button to close the garage door. The cat's claws dug into my other collar bone.
Now, the house is serene, plus fairly clean. So I can relax and do nothing or everything.
I know what you all are thinking: after next week, when my boys have gone to college, I'll be longing for the noise and the bustle.
Maybe. But it might take a few weeks before I'm anxious for those boys who stay up late, sleep in late, use three towels a day, eat constantly, to return home.

Party Perspectives

The graduation party is today, so, of course, I woke up at 4:07 a.m. with a litany of all the things I need to accomplish.
I lay in bed until 5 before I got up, only to find Tucker asleep on the couch in the living room. I don't know why, and won't know until he wakes up later, so I'm creeping around the house in the dark to let him get a little more sleep.
I wonder if sleeping on the couch has anything to do with the fact that he got hit by a car two days ago as he was riding his bike. He's okay, just skinned up and shaken up.
He called me right after it happened. It makes me feel thankful that his first reaction is still to call mom.
He wouldn't let me come get him, said he was walking the bike home, but we both were shaking when he came through the back door, his palms, elbows and knees bleeding.
The car just pulled out in front of him and hit his front tire throwing him off the bike. The car didn't even stop.
Other than asking me to put Bandaids smeared with antibiotic ointment onto his palms and explaining why he can't help with yardwork because of his wounds, he has acted like everything is fine.
I vented a bit on Facebook about the car that didn't stop, and an old high school classmate sent me a message, saying she knows how difficult this time of year is for our family.
Yes, that adds to the tension. A graduation on Memorial Day, just like my sister's graduation on the weekend she was killed.
A party planned.
We're so lucky that Tucker walked through the back door, and I guess that puts my worries about a party in better perspective.
This weekend, we'll celebrate and not worry about whether the house is clean enough or the lawn is perfect or the food will last through the crowd.

Changes

What if you left your life for six months then popped back in. What do you think would be different?
That's kind of what happened for my oldest son Spencer.
I took him back to college on Jan. 3. He arrived home last night.
Life went on, of course.
"Where's the trash can?" he asked turning toward the kitchen corner where the trash can used to be.
We painted that corner of the kitchen and moved the trashcan under the sink.
"Can I take a shower in the downstairs bathroom?" he asked.
"Ask Dad," I told him. "He just caulked it."
"Where is Dad?" he asked. "Still in bed?"
The clock read 11:19 a.m.
When Spencer left for college in January, Earl hadn't switched to working days. When he worked until midnight or 1 a.m., he often slept in (but never until 11).
"No, Spence, Dad is at work." He looked puzzled.
The entire world had shifted while he studied and partied in Florida.
"Can I switch to the basement bedroom when Grace moves into her apartment?" he asked.
"No, Tucker took over that bedroom. You can't kick him out."
When Spencer walked in the door last night, he scooped up one of our cats. "He seems so much calmer," Spencer said to the cat.
Just hang around for a little while and the cat will be skidding back and forth across the wood floors.
Not everything changes.

Rounding Up All My Children

Finally, I'm very close to having all three of my children together.
I'm in Florida with my two oldest, Grace and Spencer. Grace finished with college for the year on Tuesday, moved her things home, and we left the next morning to drive to Florida.

It was a very long drive, or maybe it just felt that way because I am getting old. I usually drive the whole way myself but on the last stretch of the trip, I let Grace take over.
Part of what made the trip long, was that we stopped at a park in Charlotte, North Carolina. Our route goes by Charlotte and I had heard about a pretty park there from Jackie McGuiness at Junkboat Travels.
Driving into Charlotte, Grace and I were both struck by how much it felt like our hometown Columbus, Ohio. It's a small, bustling downtown area, which, we noticed, is called "uptown" not downtown.
Charlotte is one of the cities that Grace is considering after she graduates from college. She put it on the top of her list after our stop at The Green.

The Green is a bookish park with author's names as mile markers and stacks of books as statues. We loved it.

 

We got to my parents' house on Wednesday night.

On Thursday, I drove over to St. Petersburg to pick up Spencer from college. I hadn't seen him since Jan. 3 when I dropped him off at school. I've talked to him on the phone and texted plenty, but there's nothing like hugging your kid. 

We loaded up all of his belongings, filling a trash bag full of his big basketball shoes and tying his bicycle onto the top of the car since I forgot the bike carrier. 

It's been a tough year for Spencer in many ways, but he's healthy and he persevered. And I still owe you all the "mafia" story. I promise I'll tell it someday soon.

Now Grace, Spencer and I are at my parents house for a few more days until we drive back to Ohio.

Meanwhile at home, Tucker finished his last day of high school.

Every year at our school, the parents and underclassmen line up for the seniors to walk between us on the last day. They go to the football field across the street and after a few speeches from the students, they release balloons (biodegradable) into the air.

I have missed this ceremony for both of my boys, but Earl has gone both times and took pictures. My friend Betsy also took some pictures of Tucker for me.

Tucker had an AP (Advanced Placement) test on Wednesday afternoon, so he didn't think he'd get to walk with the seniors. He really wanted to be a part of it though. He asked whether he could skip the exam.

The exam can be important because students can earn college credit. They take an advanced class all year and the official AP Exam is what earns them college credit. It doesn't affect their actual classroom grade. 

To me, the college credit seemed more important than a few minutes on the football field, but maybe I wasn't thinking enough about the emotion of it all. 

He ended up taking the test and still getting out in time to walk with his friends.

Here's a picture Betsy sent me that I love. I can picture him hurrying out of the test to join his classmates, afraid he'd be late, but no, there they were. He's smiling to himself with an array of friends behind him.

In a few more days, we'll all be home together preparing for a weekend of graduation and celebration. 

Grace moves out in June, but until then, I'll have all my children together for a little while longer.