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.

Stiff Necks and Guilt

Sometimes, I know that I'm not a good person.
I'm not saying that in the hopes that one of you readers will try to talk me out of it.
I'm selfish, not as generous or as kind as I should be.
This morning, I went over in my mind the things that I'm dreading. The visiting hours this evening for my friend's daughter's death, along with Katie's funeral Monday morning. I half hoped I wouldn't be able to find a substitute teacher so I couldn't go to the funeral.
I signed up to take dessert for the funeral luncheon, but I didn't go to mass this morning, where I might have talked to or comforted the family.
And now, the pain in my neck has begun -- a pain I had for
two weeks when my Aunt Lorena died.
I could, of course, skip the visiting hours and the funeral. One of my friends from church called and as we talked she said she expected I wouldn't be able to get out of teaching to attend the funeral. I could have grabbed at that straw and assumed everyone else would think that too.
But, I knew that although I could easily skip the funeral and the visitation, my once best friend Cathy could not. I could pretend that nothing had happened, but she is living with the fact that her 21-year-old daughter died.
And for that reason alone, I will be there this evening, offering my sympathy because I know that nothing can be done to ease their pain. And I will be at the funeral mass on Monday morning. I will drive to the cemetery and watch their tears fall as handfuls of dirt are tossed into the hole that holds their daughter.
I think that I might be able to help their daughters. I was 14 when my sister died. Katie's sisters are 18 and 12. I'm the godmother to the younger one.
But what could I tell them?

My sister Tammy in her senior picture. She died
the night before her high school graduation.

I could warn them that as they move forward in their lives, at each milestone, they'll feel the emotional abyss left behind with the loss of Katie. As they complete college and celebrate with their family, they'll feel Katie's absence. When they plan their weddings or give birth to children, they'll feel that ache -- the certain feeling that an older sister would have good advice and experience to share.
But why should I warn them. They'll know soon enough, and at least they'll have each other, along with their two brothers.
I burst out last night and told Grace that whenever I die, they should just plan the service quickly. I hate the limbo, the in-between time when you can't even pretend that things will be normal because of the wait for the services. I remember that time when my sister died, and with Thanksgiving, the wait has been even longer for Katie's funeral.
As a sister, and I imagine as a parent, the toughest part is to leave the person you love in the metal box, no matter how lovely and lined with silk, to close the lid of that box and leave her in the funeral home or the church. I wouldn't be able to bear it. I cried copious tears at that thought of leaving my sister all alone in the church the night of the visitation.
But I will go tonight and recall happy memories of Katie, in the hopes that I can share some joy in the midst of this painful season.

In the Woods With a Wolf

I'm still in denial about some difficulties that we've had this fall, so I'll write another happy post. This one includes pictures of Grace.
Grace is working a lot and auditioning for plays since finishing her role as Nancy in Oliver.
A photographer friend asked her to pose with a wolf as publicity both for the photographer, Candid Kama Photography, and for the wolf rescue place.
Grace convinced her boyfriend Jack and her friends Kyle and Rachel to pose with her. They all dressed up in Victorian clothes for the shoot.
I can't believe that Jack had a Victorian suit, including a top hat that flattens and pops up.

This is my favorite with Grace and the wolf in the woods. 

 And another one that I liked was this reflective picture. When I first saw it, I only saw the bottom and I wondered why they posted it upside down. Then I scrolled up and saw that the reflection was just incredibly clear.

So Grace is doing well, other than working too much.
And someday soon, I'll be ready to write about the challenges we've faced this fall.

Happy Father's Day

An Open Letter to My Dad:
Dad,

On a trip to California when I was 18 and Kevin was 16
. Look how buffyou were. And I was a brat on this trip. 

From my earliest memories, you have always tried to make me happy -- from buying me sweet tarts at the bowling alley as a kid to telling me a boy wasn't worth my time in my teenage years to watching my kids while I flew off to France as an adult.
I can't think of anything I've wanted to do that you haven't supported.
And because you always thought I could accomplish whatever I wanted, I did too. I didn't know to be afraid to try new things
I guess you are the definition of unconditional love.

At my wedding. You looking dapper in your gray tux.

You gave me the strength to move around the country to various jobs, to travel to amazing places around the world. Your support provided the gumption to raise three kids homeschooling them and to finish that first novel and see you hold it in your hands.
I'm not saying you always approved of what I did or that I didn't disappoint you or get on your nerves. That California trip for one... but even when I made mistakes, I knew they didn't change the way you felt about me.
There aren't many people in the world who offer unconditional love. I guess I'm kind of naive because I thought that a mom and dad always offered unconditional love to their kids. But as I ventured out into the world, I learned that wasn't true. I guess I'm one of the lucky ones to have a dad like you.
Happy Father's Day.

With my three kids when they were little and they
already knew what a great father and granddad you were.

Birthdays

Grace came home from university on Friday night so she could go salsa dancing with her friends from home. And we celebrated her birthday today before rushing her back to school for a mandatory meeting.
One of the hardest things about kids going away to school is not getting to spend birthdays with them.
Grace was in New York for two of her birthdays, and it's sad when we aren't together.

Her birthday celebration had a theme. We went to the restaurant Bon Vie and she had ham & gruyere crepes with fried potatoes. Yummy.

I'm the only one who decided a raspberry martini seemed like a good idea on Sunday at noon.
We convinced Tucker to come along and he actually enjoyed the food. The bread they served, he proclaimed the best he'd ever eaten, rivaling that of bread in France. He shared some of what we ordered and loved the fried potatoes with onions and the French toast with fruit.
He did, however, take note that there was only one TV in the entire restaurant and it was way over by the bar. That was a drawback to him.

Earl and I made Grace a vision board, sometimes called a dream board. I needed help from my friend Sheila to find the material and the batting for the board. She had them in her newly-organized craft room. I also had to go in search of staples for the staple gun and ended up with furniture tacks to hold the material in place. The pale green fabric has a damask design, which adds a definite French look to it. I had some teal ribbon that I thought would clash but actually added a nice pop of color. I hope Grace fills it with all the things she dreams of.

She also got a journal that quotes Audrey Hepburn on the front -- "Paris is always a good idea." And the journal has some France-themed quotes inside, like "Will exchange kisses for a trip to France."

A scarf, and a giant coffee cup along with a bottle of hazelnut syrup rounded out the gifts.
As I wrote in the birthday card we forgot to give her, Grace is the daughter I always wanted.
Lucky me.

False Flattery

My darling daughter texted me excitedly earlier in the week from her stage makeup class.
"We have to age ourselves so I used a picture of you as an example."
People say Grace and I look alike, except she's 6 inches taller than I am and has straight hair.
It makes sense that if she wanted to age herself, she would look at a picture of me.
She downloaded my picture from Facebook to use as a guide then she set out to make herself look old.
"Everyone who saw your picture said you were so pretty," Grace said.
Which was nice.
But when she texted the photo of herself looking older, I didn't feel flattered any more.
Yikes.
Is that what I look like?
I hope Grace ages better than me, or at least better than the makeup she used to age herself.
She sent another picture during her makeup test that doesn't look quite as frightening.
Here's the picture with her looking "middle aged" on one side of her face and in "old age" on the other side of her face.

Who would make themselves look intentionally old anyway?

Melodrama

Grace has such a hard time with change. After packing and hugs and a thousand goodbyes this morning, she climbed into the car and said:

"Have a nice life without me." 

 

 That was so melodramatic, we both had to laugh then.

I'll miss her, but once she has transitioned, she'll forget all about her old mom. 

Daughter Love

I'm so lucky to have a fabulous daughter and to have her home for the summer. Now, before you turn away in disgust at the sugary sweetness of that statement, let me say that, of course, there are times we don't get along, but I can count on her to be there when I need her.
That's why I dragged her along to two grad parties last night since Earl was at work.
At the party, we ran into one of her friends who doesn't get along with her mother. The mother was there too. In spite of feeling a little awkward, we split up so I could talk with the mom and she could chat with her friend.
I realized my reliance on Grace when I poured a glass of wine and it seeped out a hole in the cup.
It took me a minute to realize that the cup was leaking. Red wine was on the tablecloth and on the paving stones beneath the table, when I looked down and saw a spout of red wine arcing from near the bottom of the cup. I put my finger over the hole and the wine stopped escaping.
"Oh no," I cried. "My cup has a hole in it."
I problem solved for a minute. I could simply put another cup over it or pour the quickly disappearing wine into another cup. But first, I had to show Grace.
"Grace!" I called across the patio, interrupting her conversation with the graduate's dad, "My cup has a hole in it!" and I took my finger away to show her the red arc of wine pouring from my cup. We both laughed and I found another cup.
Everything funny and meaningful in my life, I want to share with Grace.
I hope our relationship stays this way.

The Art of Letter Writing

I know that letter writing is passe. I'm guilty of hopping on the computer and shooting off an email or sending a lengthy text rather than sitting down with thick stationary and writing in my barely readable, left-handed penmanship. But the importance of letter writing returned to me this week with a letter from Grace at college. It was on notebook paper with a pencil drawing of two kitties at the top, drawn by Grace. The words on the paper were the important part though.
Grace mailed a letter because her aunt sent her a birthday check (back in January) and Grace needed to mail it to me so I could deposit it in her bank account. She said she didn't want to simply mail the check "and be all taking you for granted" so she wrote a letter.
"First off, I wanted to thank you for being so awesome," she wrote. Well, she could have stopped there, but she continued to name some times when she thought I was "awesome."
"Even though we talk pretty much every day, I still miss our walks and talks and mochas. I miss you and watching The Amazing Race together."
Me too. I cherish the times when Grace is home. And, although Grace and I talk about this, having it here in front of me means a lot.
After some reminiscing, Grace writes, "I think when I come home, you'll find me different, but in a good way."
Grace was pretty amazing when she left for school, but perhaps the way she has changed is in recognizing how amazing she is.
She ends her letter with "We're so lucky we have each other. You're my mom and best friend. Good combo? I think so."
Yes, this is a letter that I'll tuck into my letter box, along with the ones from my mom when I lived in France and the ones from my brother when I went away to college. Those letters helped cement our adult relationships. I can look back at them now and remember the hard times and the good times we shared. I can see how those letters built the relationships we have today.
I could not have imagined when I cradled that beautiful, bossy little girl in my arms that she'd grow up to be my best friend and a wonderful letter writer

Grace Update

For many regular readers, you know that Grace has had an up and down college career. She finished her freshman year last May unsure whether she'd return to her Upstate New York college. She took off autumn semester and went to hang out in France with some French friends and blogging friends. Then she bit the bullet and returned to Upstate New York in January.
So, how's that going?
Super! Thanks for asking!
Although she has been homesick, she has lucked out with the weather. This has been a very mild winter from the Midwest through the Northeast. She has avoided the below zero weather and the thigh-high snow fall.
She started the semester with a roommate she didn't know, but the girl dropped out within a few weeks, leaving behind her microwave and mini refrigerator. So for awhile Grace had a room to herself, until a girl she works with asked if she could move in with Grace. Now she is rooming with Emma, who she gets along with and doesn't spend every minute of the day with -- a healthier relationship. The girls work together doing makeup for stage performances.
Grace settled on a major -- multi lingual studies and she's enjoying her French and Italian classes, along with Oceanography and Global Studies. Plus, she starts German next year and will spend Winter Semester in Vienna next year. Some life, huh?
She says the world of short men continues at her college (Grace is 5-foot, 10-inches) but she has found some good friends and this weekend was initiated into a sorority. One of the first orders of business -- a toga party, of course.
Grace and I talk and text a lot. I miss her, but I'm so thrilled that she is enjoying college and thriving. When her global studies professor returned her essay, he told her she could have it published. Every little blip of success helps to build her up, reminding her what a spectacular young woman she is.

Saturday Snapshot -- She's Home

To participate in the Saturday Snapshot meme post a photo that you (or a friend or family member) have taken then leave a direct link to your post on Alyce's blog At Home With Books. Photos can be old or new, and be of any subject as long as they are clean and appropriate for all eyes to see. How much detail you give in the caption is entirely up to you. Please don’t post random photos that you find online.
Earl drove to Buffalo, New York, last night to meet Grace who caught a ride from a friend as far as Buffalo. She has a week off from college for spring break.
Earl and Grace got home around 1:30 a.m. and she immediately started scooping up cats to hug.

Happy BIrthday

Twenty years ago, I lived in a warm climate and a spotless house. I was a size six with 18 pounds of basketball belly when I got up early in the morning, about this time, and drove to the hospital an hour away. Four hours later, Grace was born. Eight pounds, eight ounces.
And, obviously, my life has never been the same -- in a good way. Yes, we've had our mother daughter run-ins and temper tantrums (both of us). But when I went to the hospital, I could never have dreamed that I'd be giving birth to one of my best friends.
Sometimes I think that she relies on me too much, but then I realize that I rely on her too. She's always happy to talk about my day and offer advice on how raise her brothers. We laugh together a lot, and I don't think there's much more I could ask for from her. Someone who loves me, who makes me laugh and who I have watched become a beautiful, confident young woman. And that's only the first 20 years.
Happy Birthday, Grace

Excuses

So, I hope that some of you visit my blog regularly enough to notice that I haven't been posting as frequently, or as interestingly, as in the past. This is my excuses post, so you feel bad for me and give me a break. JK.
I am kind of bogged down teaching seven college classes. Add to that basketball season, which means games twice a week, plus breakfasts twice a week for the team. (I'm not sure if it's this way everywhere for high school basketball, but we feed these boys constantly. Breakfast from Panera, dinner after school from a local restaurant, Subway for the bus ride home from the game. On the weekend, we make a "spread" at someone's home and serve them that. This weekend I did waffles with blueberry sauce, cheesy potatoes, fruit, and another parent brought 8 pounds of bacon plus 4 pounds of link sausage! Do they think the parents can't feed them?)
Then Tucker is in high school swim season. We don't feed them as much, but the meets always seem to be far away and last for several hours. On Monday we drove to Marietta. I carried the swimmers' bags in my car so I followed the bus and it took two hours and twenty minutes. Next a three-hour swim meet and then a two-hour drive home.
So if teaching and sports were not all that is going on to keep me away from my blog, Grace is home for one more day. She goes back to school tomorrow.
Sometimes it's hard for me to process the fact that she'll actually be gone.
In spite of deciding that this far away school is the right choice for her, she's feeling very anxious about returning. I have tried to be supportive, saying things like, "Remember how nervous you were before you went the first time" or "This is nothing compared to staying in France for three months alone."
As her anxiety continues to rise, I decided tough love might be better. "Everyone would prefer to lie on the couch and watch America's Next Top Model rather than going to school or working..." or "It's what kids your age do. They go to school. It's not a big deal." Truthfully, if Grace doesn't go away to school, then I have failed at the process of raising her and setting her free. What Mama bird wants to set her baby bird free and the bird decide to stay in the nest?
I know Grace is just nervous because she hates change and because last year at this time she became depressed at school. She can't handle the idea of feeling like that again. I don't want her to feel that either. But she chose to return to this school and so we need to march onward so she can stop anticipating the bad.
So those are my excuses for why I haven't been blogging as much or commenting on other people's blogs.
Forgive me, but I see no respite in sight for another month or so.

Pride and Prejudice - The Musical

This weekend was the culmination of 3 months of rehearsals for Grace and cast in the production of Pride and Prejudice -- The Musical.
Grace played Charlotte Lucas, Elizabeth Bennett's best friend who married Mr. Collins, the annoying man that Elizabeth turned down.
Here's a picture of Grace getting ready to go to the theater for the first show.


And here she is right after the show in one of her fabulous costumes.
In the book and the play, they constantly talk about how plain Charlotte is, but they didn't do anything to make Grace look less beautiful (in my opinion). They did make her act clumsy.
This production ate up a good part of Grace's summer and helped her gain some great new friends. It was the first time she's done a play that included adults in the cast, so that was a nice balance as she eases into the adult world. Some of them were creepy (Mr. Collins), some of them were parents of teenage friends, and some of them were college students.
Some of her former high school friends were in the play, which made it more fun. Here she is with Jeff who played a member of the regiment in the play, but is leaving to join the Navy this month.

It's fun to see Grace, who tends to be quiet around strangers, blossom on stage. She even steps in to move the show along when someone forgets a line. She's become a real acting pro, along with applying makeup for the cast before hand.

A Faraway Birthday

Happy Birthday, Grace.
Today is the first time since
well, forever, that I haven't been with you on your birthday.
I suppose that's what I get for having winter babies. I'm doomed to be separated from them on their birthdays when they go away to school or to their real lives.
Still, you know how I am. I don't think we should pack everything into one day, but spread it over the whole year and all of our time together.
Grace was named Grace by default. Before I ever thought about having babies, I had three girl names that I loved. Alexandra, Brigid and Francesca.
Alexandra was the only name Earl would consider, but he said he would call her Alex. I didn't want a girl with a boy's name. So we went with Grace Alexandra.
Grace was born in Florida and even though the weather was warm, we brought her home in a fuzzy sleeper, and then drove through Wendys on the hour-long trip home. We placed her in a cradle in our bedroom and tried to sleep ourselves, but we kept getting up to put a hand on her back to make sure she was breathing.
Her personality was set as a baby. She came out with big eyes that watch everything. She likes to figure things out before she jumps into them. And that is why she is such a smart adult.
Last year, we had a dance party to celebrate Grace's birthday. This year, her college friends get to decide how she spends her birthday. Oh, sure, we've sent along our gifts and wishes, but it's strange not to be able to kiss her good morning and wish her a happy birthday.
I'll text her around 8 and hope I'm not waking her up. I'll call her later between my classes and her classes. But for now, I guess I'll send her a hug that I gave her years ago and hope it will last.

Happy birthday, Grace. I love you.

23-Hour Drive

Grace's classes start on Monday, so we needed to get her back to school. The boys both had sporting events on Friday. I decided to drive Grace on Saturday and Sunday. Ten and a half hours each way. The dorms opened again on Saturday. As she texted friends and checked Facebook, she feared she would be the only one back on Saturday.
"Will you stay with me if no one else is back?" she asked.
"Sure," I said, already dreading a night in a dorm room.
We left about 7:30 on a bitterly cold morning. The temperature at home read zero; as we cruised north of Columbus, it dropped to -7 but the sun rose blindingly over the snow-covered fields.
Usually, Grace and I talk a lot in the car. She slept instead this time. She'd been home, mostly forming an indentation on the couch for five weeks. She got home on Dec. 17 and she came down with a cold on Dec. 18. She hardly left the couch.
Two trips to the doctor finally revealed that she had whooping cough, which probably explains why she wasn't able to shake the "cold" and why getting up to exercise or taking a walk around the block didn't help kick the cold.
So we had five weeks to talk. We went shopping on Thursday, avoiding the house while the water was turned off and sewer work completed.
Even though we didn't talk, I could reach over and touch her. We held hands for a lot of the way.
We arrived at the school at 5:30, and after a brief panic where Grace couldn't find her student id which gets her into the dorm, we carried about six loads of things into the dorm room. And there was her roommate Colleen limping around because she sprained an ankle. How? She likes to jump off her front porch into the snow. Her dad had dug up the yard and deposited rocks in the yard, which he hadn't told her before she jumped. Thus, the sprained ankle.
Everyone screamed to be reunited. Hugs. Late Christmas gifts. Nick has dreadlocks. Big Mike lifted girls off the ground in backbreaking bear hugs. All the exciting news. Kim had whooping cough too.
I helped Grace unpack some then sat and watched. I'd planned to take a nap in her dorm before heading back southwest to Columbus. I thought I'd drive and get a hotel some place in New York.
I started driving at 7:30 p.m., twelve hours after we had left that morning. The snow splattered the windshield and the nights seem especially black on the two-lane road in upstate New York. The snow and dark made it hard to see, and I felt really nervous when I passed an Amish carriage with a lantern swinging on the back. The lantern gave off faint light through the falling snow.
The snow made the trip slower. I travelled at 40 miles per hour on much of the highway. I stopped for coffee. Then more coffee as the hours ticked off. At one point, somewhere between Syracuse and Buffalo, I pulled into a thruway rest area and laid the seat down. I covered myself with a quilt and tried to sleep. Nope. I might as well get some coffee and keep going.
Whenever I got tired, I'd stop for coffee, the cold air kicking my eyes wide awake before I scrambled back to the car to drive some more.
I'd hoped to wait to fill up with gas again once I got to Ohio. Gas in New York hovered around $3.35 while in Ohio we were paying $3.08. With the snow pelting the roads and the snow plows lumbering along, I kept filling up whenever I stopped, in case I got caught in a snow traffic jam.
Earl texted me again around 2 a.m.
Still driving I told him, when I called.
At 4:50 a.m., I stopped at a rest stop in Ohio, about 70 miles north of Columbus and rested for 20 minutes. Then I drove the rest of the way home. I arrived at 6:30 a.m., 23 hours after I left. The car is coated with dirty snow and salt. The inside of the car is littered with blankets and sleeping bags and bottles of water.
I put on my plaid, flannel pjs and climbed into bed just as the sun began to rise, reflecting again off the bright snow.

Homecoming

Grace and Earl are driving through the night right now on their way home. Grace has a week off for Thanksgiving.
Her sheets are clean and the blankets are folded back on her bed.
I can't remember what it was like when I came home from college. I think I was so caught up in spending time with my friends that I probably didn't even notice the comfort of being home.
I hope that when Grace walks through the door at home she feels the same way that I do now when I walk in my parents' house, no matter what house they live in -- Ohio, Kentucky or Florida. Of course, as an adult and as a mother, walking in my parents' house has always felt like a shedding of the weight that I carry on my shoulders. Whoosh! All the responsibility melts away and I'm a duaghter again instead of a wife, mother, teacher, writer.
I joked with the students in my class last night that I imagined we might spend the entire week with me on the courch and Grace's head on my lap.
But that's a fantasy too, since I'll be in bed when she gets home and then I'm off to a swim meet at 6:30 a.m. before a basketball scrimmage at 10 and... well, it's a typical weekend at our house. There will be little time to sit with her head resting in my lap.
Still, just having her at home makes everything feel a little more secure.

Be Our Guest

She came home after two months at college for her mid-semester break. Four days off school and swim practice and dark bicycle rides through the early morning. A 10-hour car ride home, 3 hours with a friend to Rochester. Then Earl wove his way through Ohio, Pennsylvania, and the confusing streets of Rochester, New York to fetch her. They arrived home at 3:30 a.m.
She brought her own toothpaste, as if we wouldn't have any or wouldn't share with her. I guess she's responsible for herself now -- and that's a good thing. Right?

Riding in Your Pocket

Sometimes, as a parent, I have wanted to tuck my children into my pocket and keep them safe.
Grace and I have come up with a kind of opposite plan.
She had a nightmare Sunday night and then woke in the dark of Monday morning as her alarm sounded at 5:50 a.m. She pulled on some clothes and walked out into the cold black morning. She unlocked her bike and rode to the swimming pool, fearing the demons from her nightmare and the real things that lurk in life.
Later that morning, she told me about her bad dream and her fear riding to the pool alone in the dark.
"Call me," I said. I teach at ungodly early hours and I set my alarm for 5 each morning.
"Call me and put me in your pocket when you ride," I said.
So, for the past two mornings, she has phoned. We chat for a minute while she unlocks her bike and then she slips me in her pocket while she rides across campus. I lay the phone down and put it on speaker so I continue exercising or flat ironing my hair. I hear muffled sounds as she travels.
When she arrives with a clank, she takes the phone from her pocket and says, "I'm here."
Sometimes I can hear other people walking past on their way to the pool or early workouts.
"Ok. I love you." Typical mom speak. "Have a good day."
Then she's on her own, but for awhile, I'm right there in her pocket.

Family Weekend

I left Charlotte, North Carolina and headed to New York so I could visit Grace at college for family weekend. My flight was supposed to go to New York City then to Syracuse where Earl would pick me up in the car and we would drive the two hours on to Grace's college. That plan had so many possible flaws. And some sort of tropical storm that battered the East Coast decided to interfere. Instead, the airline flew me to Washington, DC then to Buffalo, New York, which is much farther from her college.
We stayed in a cedar cabin in the woods with an outdoorsy young couple and their 20-month-old daughter, Aurora. The sunrise turned the wet fields misty.

After Grace's swim practice, we spent the day together going to a football game and a swim team cookout.

We took Grace to visit baby Aurora to get her toddler fix. That was fairly mean of us because Aurora sobbed every time we left. She got attached very quickly.

I gave them Grace's cell phone number in case they ever need a babysitter.
Grace and her friends had planned a dinner with all of their friends and parents together at an Italian restaurant. When we got in the restaurant, the students scattered to their table and the parents sat together. They were a fun, intelligent group.

I took some photos of the "kids" table, which included some little siblings.
One of the siblings, an 8-year-old boy named Nick, was shunned by the older kids. He sat between his parents and me. This kid was a hoot. So I got a few posed shots of him then set him loose in the restaurant with the camera.
After dinner, we went to a Singers concert of music from France and then danced to a band that included some of their professors.
The next morning we joined Grace for brunch at the cafeteria before our long trek home. Earl smuggled a turnover out of the cafeteria, which embarrassed Grace.
And we left Grace on the beautiful campus as she cried big tears. Loving it where she is, but missing home like crazy.