A New Moon

Cole is one week away from move-in day. Next Sunday we'll drive to our beloved Iowa City to unload his college gear at Hillcrest Dormitory–my old dorm and his big sister's old dorm. Is he ready? Are we ready?

I've noticed a certain maturity in Cole lately. Things like doing laundry without me prompting him, even if he mixes reds with whites. Or getting a replacement license on his own after losing his wallet. (We found this out after his new license came in the mail. In all fairness, he's had plenty of practice at replacing lost ones.) Or, reading books on his own. Sure, it's the Twilight series, but hey, it's reading.

We've somehow managed to celebrate the end of this era. It's almost like the high school graduation season that would never end. Since May there's been a virtual graduation ceremony, a live, socially-distanced ceremony, grad parties with lots of hand sanitizer, an impromptu prom, a last hurrah vacation with some fatherly mooning amidst a beautiful South Dakota backdrop, and a senior soccer sendoff allowing mothers to sport their cool soccer gear at least one more time while watching the boys battle it out with their buds on the field. Despite the pandemic, every single event has been a wonderful tribute to the kids we raised and the friendships they've cultivated.

There's not a parent who doesn't feel a gaping hole when they send their kids out into the world. I still feel that hole with our 23-year-old. But that hole is peppered with excitement about the future. Yes, there's a lot of yuck in the world right now. But I can't help but feel hopeful for our kids. They still see a giant, blank slate in front of them. If anything positive can be taken from this past year, perhaps it's the space and time that came from the screeching halt of activities. I know we all yearn for those activities. But perhaps it allowed some of our kids to do a bit of window gazing and deep thinking, when they weren't playing Clash Royale, of course.

Cole wants to start packing today.  He's also been having some very serious thoughts about the career he wants to pursue. A good sign. He's starting to truly think ahead! But he also wants to watch New Moon with me. Also a good sign. He's still living out some of his tween fantasies. You can't grow up all at once. You shouldn't grow up all at once. Or maybe ever. Perhaps we should all relive our tween fantasies once in a while. That would mean Charlie's Angels for me.

I completely expect to become immersed in nostalgia as soon as we walk through the doors of Cole's new digs and I smell the same weird, stale odor that greeted me in 1987. I clearly remember the blank slate before me. It was exciting, but terrifying. No matter what's happening in the world right now, I know it will be the same for our kids just starting out: a wonderfully, scary time. But more wonderful than scary.

So, ready or not... here we all go.

Finally, She Writes

Last week a longtime coworker/friend dropped off a graduation gift for Cole. While I had been ticking along all day, just doing my job, this singular, sweet act made me burst into tears. Apparently, beneath this oh-so-calm countenance is an emotional volcano boiling up inside me.

My family is healthy. I have a job which keeps me busy. For those two things, I'm deeply and undeniably grateful. God is good to me. I know this. But there's this part of me (the part which sheds tears over the sight of college towels) that seems to lack a certain resiliency. It annoys me actually. Some people are just so darn strong. As a matter of fact, there are these people I know who seem to bear an incredible resiliency. They actually are knocking my socks off during this crazy pandemic. These people happen to be our kids. I have no doubt they inherited this from their father.

Zenlike Alex

Our smart, recent college-grad daughter was laid off her job – like many others. And despite her hypochondria-tic tendencies, she seems amazingly calm about the situation. (She does live in Denver, where calm seems to be the prevalent mood – must be the mountain air, ahem.) Anyway she's running with Bruce-dog, sporting only a few injuries from the puppy's ADD issues. She's cooking healthy and creative meals with her chef roomie. (He's a real chef.)  She's writing and sending pitches. She's making music and posting covers. She's thinking deeply about her future. And here's the cool thing: she's talking to her mother more than ever, meaning, she's actually answering my calls. It's usually quite nice... until I start down anxiety road and become crazy mom, trying to convince her to do things like go back to school. My wish. Not hers. Alex has always had a strong vision for her life, and this environment is only making her more focused on her dreams. Her dreams. She's a clever girl, and luckily, she's patient with me as I navigate parenting an adult, trying my best to back off. (She is still answering my calls, Thanks God. Who else can I talk to about Mrs. Maisel? Not the boys in my house!)

Power Up, Cole.

Cole, on the other hand, has had his senior year and final soccer season ripped away from him – like many others have. And while we all know and understand why, it doesn't take away that pit in your stomach when you see the game on the calendar that was supposed to be played, or the grad party that was supposed to be celebrated. But I don't see Cole moping or wallowing. A little sad, yes. But for the most part he's optimistic. He's seems pacified that the grad parties will be delayed, and that he'll perhaps get to play with his soccer team at the Iowa Games this summer. In the meantime, when he's not doing homework online, he's working on projects! He's begun to explore the old house with his buddies (presumably with social distancing tactics in place). And guess what they've found? Treasures for sure... like two GIANT dead raccoons in the old house and cave. It doesn't get much better than that. He's also become Chip Gaines – using same said buddies to convert a basement storage room into a "man cave." (Apparently, Cole needed different scenery than his bedroom which for all intents and purposes smells like man cave to me.) No matter, I was pleasantly surprised by his domestic ambitions. Previously, this storage space was chock full – you couldn't actually walk through it without climbing over mounds of carpet, dead bugs, and painting supplies. Now it's spic and span, hosting the foosball table, a TV and a gaming system. I was like, "Cole! Where did you put everything?" He was like, "That's just the thing, Mom! We reorganized everything and put it all under the stairs." I was duly impressed... until the next day when I went into the furnace room to find where much of the crap had gone. But it's okay. I'm glad he's keeping himself occupied. I'll have him tackle the furnace room next. And then the next room he shuffles the crap to. This should keep him busy, until college in the fall.

So, those tears I talked of earlier? Maybe they aren't really a sign of weakness. I think they were the realization that life goes on, perhaps with a new appreciation of things. Gifts given to your kids. Facetiming with your daughter. Filling a planter with your husband on a beautiful spring day. Having lunch with your parents. Going on a walk with your sister-in-law. Making Snapfish books with your son for that eventual grad party. Looking at the new baby cows. And, of course, as always, watching The Office.

Stay well, friends.

So much to explore. And appreciate.