the evolution of a parent

Right now my oldest child is three hours away at college, fighting influenza A.  I'm texting her instructions to hydrate and alternate between ibuprofen and Tylenol. My instinct is to hop in the car so her mother

Wish I could send her a cat for comfort...

can lay a cold rag on her head and provide comfort. But she has told me to stay put. So I will.

The dynamic of parenting changes throughout the years, but the mysteries and challenges remain. By the time you no longer wake up in the middle of the night to a crying child, you're laying in your bed watching the clock and calculating what time they should walk through the door. Or in the case of a college student, you might  be analyzing the last Snapchat story and hoping she wasn't trying to send you an encrypted cry for help on a photo that merely appears to be the setting of a party.

Anyway, I happened to ask my budding investigative journalist to give me some thoughts on how to be a good parent to a college kid. (I asked last weekend, before she came down with the flu.) Her responses were not only enlightening, but profound. Here's what she said:

• Answer any questions we have for you guys. It's our first time on our own, and this may sound like a given but half the time we're making shit up as we go. We realize how much our parents actually have it together when we have to stumble through the weird, legal lingo of our first lease...
• Care packages go a long way. It doesn't have to be anything big, it could even just be a letter or a picture of the family. Especially in the dorms, getting mail is always a strange pick-me-up. Maybe it's because someone knows where you are when you're in a new place? I don't know, that's a question for a psyche major.
• If you're able, come visit but not too often. I know plenty of friends whose parents can't get away to see their kids and it wears on them (I'm guessing both sides, but I'm not a parent so just guessing). It's comforting to see the people who have your back regardless, but if it's too often, the excitement wears away and independence is lost. It's like training a college kid off of dependence. You can't go cold turkey and throw them in, but you can't coddle them either because then you have a Failure to Launch situation. I think you guys have a good balance despite the fact you email me every other day ;)
• If you do get to visit, BUY THEM GROCERIES. This is the biggest stress relief, seriously.
• Talk to them without judgement. A lot of times we need advice but it's hard to cross over into that world where your parents aren't disciplining you anymore, but you still feel like if you're totally honest you'll get in trouble. Tons of weird situations arise in college that need to be talked about. Idk just be a good parent and help them out so they will talk to you. You feel like a quasi-adult now so you don't want to be dodging/lying to your parents anymore, that's just added unnecessary stress. And it's tiring, you just got through 4 years of it, and college is about moving on.
• Tell them stories about when you were in college, or when you were that age. That's always fun to hear that your parents messed up like you did ;) Evens the playing field. Don't overdo it though.
• From a liberal arts perspective, talk to them about assignments or projects they're proud of. You don't really get any recognition for doing well on specific things anymore but a lot of the work we do is important to us now, more so than high school. It is always the biggest confidence boost to have someone dote on your work for a minute, even if it's your mother and she's incredibly biased.

She signed off by saying:

That's all I've got right now, sorry if that wasn't helpful and please clean it up as much as you feel, I was just spit-balling as this is the first I've looked at my email this weekend lol

Pretty decent spit-balling. I've read this three times already–partly to make myself a list of "do's" and partly because I admire the wisdom of my daughter. Maybe her parents are doing some things right.

Ready for this?

It seems we're always getting ready for something, aren't we? But really, I'm beginning to think, we're only really getting ready for one thing.

Alex's graduation.

Or, to be fair, our children's graduation.

I had always assumed I would be an organized mother. The perfect mother, making wholesome snacks, videotaping concerts, taking award-winning soccer photos. That isn't quite what happened with a penchant for Doritos, the loss of two video cams, and a lower-than-average aptitude for photography.

But I did have a plan.

By the time the kids graduated, I would have all commemorative items in place. Photos, awards, and trinkets would all be displayed in clever, eye-catching scrapbooks. But time and talent trumped me. I've only ever started one scrapbook containing approximately three completed pages of a St. Louis trip. However. I have saved lots of papers and clippings. Lots and lots of papers and clippings. And photos. We have photos!

Everyone always tells you things like "enjoy the journey." I typically nod my head, thinking, yeah, kinda busy. Now my daughter will be gone in a few short months. And I have heartburn. Or maybe it's heartache. But I wonder, was I really kinda busy? Or too busy...which is what I meant.

For a person who is always making lists and giving herself deadlines, going through the history of my daughter's first eighteen years of life has been the most remarkable use of my time. Hours evaporated while sifting through papers and revisiting family memories. As I fumbled my way through a scrapbook for the graduation party, I had an important epiphany–one I'm almost embarrassed to confess. Most parents probably already know this. But it's very real to me right now. As my daughter verges on creating an ambitious new life for herself, my sense of purpose has become abundantly clear. No matter how many community service hours you spend, or how many work hours you toil, nothing compares with the amount of time you've done preparing your kids for their independence.

In just a few short weeks comes the big day of graduation. We're still preparing for the party, the commencement–all that jazz. I'm thankful for this time of preparation. I am. Because I'm truly enjoying the last trip of this particular journey. And I might not be ready when the day comes to say goodbye. But I know my daughter will be.

She's been waiting to graduate for awhile now...

Can your Kids Butter Bread?

I recently taught my son how to operate a can opener.

He turns thirteen next week.

Sometimes I question my parenting abilities. While I'm certain Cole could install a wireless network while simultaneously attaining Master Prestige on Call of Duty Ghost, I wonder what basics I've neglected in teaching...either of my children.

Rumor has it Cole can't butter bread.

And I can't decide if Alex doesn't have the ability to launder, or if she's just being ultra-clever in her lack of effort or results.

Maybe my teaching methods are simply inferior.

Here's another example. Cole troughs food into his mouth, using his teeth to cut food into bite-sizes, as opposed to using a knife on the plate–not completely unlike a dog. Surprisingly, we do often eat together as a family. And we do reprimand him, since we prefer a civil dining experience. But I'm wondering if perhaps the sound of my voice turn to mush just as it hits the kids' ears. Sort of like wa-wa-wa-wa.

Maybe kids are programmed not to listen to parents for a reason!

Admittedly, when I set off to college, I wasn't much of a laundress. I had to learn the skill from my roommate. (To tell you the truth, I still have my share pink foibles. Luckily, my husband doesn't mind pink socks.) But there's more. I didn't really iron until I had a job that required pressed shirts. Sure, I've had some burns. But I've healed. And I truthfully? I think I've just perfected the eggs over-easy. I honestly can't remember if my mother attempted to teach any of this to me. But if she did, I wasn't listening very closely. The moral of the story?
I eventually figured it out.

I would like my kids to be somewhat self-reliant before they head out into the big world though. Perhaps Cole won't need to rely on chicken noodle soup without a pop-tab. But we might make him in charge of the bread-buttering...at least for awhile.

Declaration of Independence

"You teach your kids to be independent."

I heard this often muttered by my mother as I was growing up. The words tend to ring in my ear a bit. As I think back on it, I believe Mom might have been speaking out loud more as an encouragement to herself than as a lesson for my young self. Because learning to become independent can hardly be as difficult as learning to let go.

My daughter is on a two-week visit to The Netherlands. I'm elated about this opportunity for her, since I, myself, have never been to Europe. But there's this gigantic pit in my stomach as I attempt to absorb her absence in the house. How will I ever survive her away in college?

When we bid her farewell at the airport, I couldn't even speak. I attempted some words, but only ended up choking up a few incoherent phrases. "Fun time. Really. Love you. Pieces." (The tears in her father's eyes didn't help.) Finally, I straightened up enough to hug her tightly and kiss her goodbye. I held strong as we watched her skip through security. Then I went straight to the restroom and sobbed.

It's not like I never saw it coming. Her independent soul, I mean. When she was young and my hubby was away, I'd attempt to coax her into cuddling with me in our bed. She'd politely decline. She's a girl who appreciates her space. Of course, my son made up for this in the next few years...I think we finally broke him of crawling in bed with us when he was eight. (Independence might be a trickier lesson for him, I'm guessing.)

Alex was always the one to wander off by herself. I remember once after fiddling with the baby in the stroller, I turned around to find I had lost her in the mall. Completely. After a few frantic minutes and shuffling through the crowd, I had found her at the entrance of the restroom. She blinked at me blankly, telling me she needed to go potty. Duh. She still wanders off to places. Still forgets to tell me where she's going.

But truthfully, I'm proud of my daughter: her wanderlust and resourcefulness. I hope she never loses her curiosity to explore and see the world. We told her if she wanted to go to Europe, she'd need to pay for it. And she did...(most of it anyway). I received an email from the mother of the family she's staying with. She informed me how kind and enjoyable Alex is...they'd just as soon keep her. This made me smile–not because they wanted to keep her. But because it reminded me of why there's a pit in my stomach. And that having her fly out of our nest might just be a bigger transition for me than her!

As we walked out of the airport, Cole said, "I hope I never have the opportunity to go to The Netherlands." Obviously, in his mind, he'd be obligated to go no matter what his preference. So. My son isn't too excited about leaving the lair. I realize his 12-year-old heart could change on the matter, but at this point, I felt a certain comfort with his admission.

After all, our basement is pretty sweet. And could be sweet for him for many years to come. And I'm just really learning about this independence stuff.

Away she goes...