Conceding defeat

Today we all enjoyed the extra day tacked onto our weekend. While some schools are celebrating the beginning of a week-long winter break, all of our kiddos will be returning to class tomorrow. So today was a welcome respite knowing tomorrow it will be back to business.

Just before lunchtime, Tim headed off with a friend to roam around downtown. As I began to wonder how the rest of us might spend the middle part of our day off, I heard a key turn in the front door and in walked that increasingly occasional visitor known as our eldest child.

Hey! What are you doing here?

He strolled in, iced Starbucks drink in hand, and proceeded to chatter on about how work was that weekend, how empty the dorm is on this long weekend, the highlights of a business school mixer he recently attended, the upcoming meeting about studying abroad that he's going to attend, the reason he needed to grab his shorts for some dorm floor competition, the great car he got to drive at work, how bad the food is this weekend because they know everyone is gone....and on and on and on...

And Annie and I both just stood there hanging on his every word.

Annie kept sidling up to him, wrapping her arms around his waist and squeezing him. Normally Jack has a pretty rock solid personal space bubble but he was being tolerant of her irrepressible affection. At one point I caught his eye and mouthed to him, "She misses you." At that he smiled amiably and magnanimously offered her a few friendly pats on the back and a small squeeze of her shoulders. She beamed.

After a bit he sat down at the computer so he could give us a visual of the best cars he had recently gotten to drive at work (he's a valet). Annie stood at his elbow and was either truly fascinated by all of his car talk or she was doing a darn good job acting like she was, because she didn't budge as he detailed all of the technical aspects of each car and had her listen to the sound of the different exhausts. I mean, really? But she didn't move a muscle and Jack just kept engaging her.

Jack: Annie, which one of these cars would you like to have someday?

Annie: (timidly) I think I like that one but I would want it to be blue.

Jack: Blue it is! Let's find you a blue one.

And she smiled with wonder as her big brother searched the Internet to find her the perfect car in the perfect shade of blue.

I was the one who thought maybe he should go farther away to school. I was the one who worried he wouldn't have a "college experience" if he didn't leave the city he grew up in. I was the one who thought there was something inherently problematic about being able to come home and do laundry and get a good meal every now and then.

I was wrong.

I was wrong on all counts. He is happy. He is having terrific experiences independent of us and home. It took some time but he has settled into his new life and is thriving. He made a good choice, a smart choice.

And today I realized something else. For the first time I really saw that by staying close to home, his much younger sister gets to continue to have her big brother as a physical presence in her life. That is no small blessing.

This is me, waving the white flag of surrender admitting now and for all time that I WAS WRONG. For Jack's sake, for Annie's, for his longterm career goals, for the sake of his beloved car that he would have had to leave behind...I will admit that Jack's intuition was right and mine was wrong.

And maybe, just maybe...I get something out of this, too.

Because I'll admit it, when he suddenly shows up at our front door with his bag of laundry and his colorful tales to tell, I always hope he might have at least two loads of washing and drying to do.... just so he will have to stay a little bit longer.

Remember the good stuff

Well, we made it.

One week ago today, our oldest child graduated from high school. Honestly, it's a milestone that I never doubted each of our children would achieve. I think we have always been prepared to do pretty much whatever was necessary to get our kids at least this far. And believe me, there were a few moments along the way when getting Jack to hang in there, go to school everyday, do his homework, and apply himself and reach his potential (as encouraged on more than one report card over the years) felt a little like dragging a squealing lamb to the slaughter.

But he made it.

WE made it.

And once the moment was here, it really did feel like a very big deal.

As I have reflected on that moment over the past week, it has occurred to me that maybe I should have gained some wisdom of my own over the past 12 years. Maybe there is something I can impart after having successfully guided (prodded/cajoled/dragged) one child through Kindergarten-12th grade.

Maybe. I'm not promising a lot.

Here goes...I'm not even going to put a number on my pearls of wisdom. Too much pressure. I'd like to give this a catchy title like, "Lori's Top 10 Hints and Tricks for Getting Your Child to Graduate" but I have serious doubts I can come up with 10 witty and wise tips for surviving your child's school years. I'm hoping I can come up with two.

Right now you might be asking why I didn't think of these in advance and then I would know exactly how much advice I actually possess to pass along? That's sweet of you to think I give these posts that much time and thought. Yeah, sorry, I don't work that way. I'm more of a stream of consciousness, let the words fly off the keyboard sort of writer. Which is all part of why I could never actually be a writer. Planning, forethought, editing, proper punctuation...not so much.

Here we go!

Lori's Unknown Number of Things I Learned Getting My Child Through School

1. Your Child Does Not Need to be an Academic Superstar to go to College. 

I'm putting this at number one because I have a lot of friends with kids entering into high school, or in the early years of high school and I know the whole college thing is looming. Here is the thing, there are a lot of schools out there. Unless your child has his/her heart set on Stanford, Pepperdine or even some of the more competitive state schools, there are a ton of options. We were freaking out going into the college application process having heard so much about how competitive it is now. We had a child with a mediocre GPA, minimal extracurriculars and marginal test scores (He knows all this and owns it. I'm not saying anything he wouldn't tell you himself). He was accepted to 4/6 schools and the two he wasn't accepted to we knew were a stretch. 

Seriously, try not to stress out if your child doesn't have a 3.5 and isn't editor of the yearbook while starring in the school play after coming home from football practice. There aren't enough valedictorians to go around so colleges are more than happy to take some average kids, too. I promise.

If you and your child want college to be an option- it probably is.

2. I Have Yet to See Diorama Construction on the List of Required College Courses

Over the course of your child's many years in school, you will have to suffer through many, many projects. These projects include, but are not limited to: dioramas, TRIoramas, coat hanger mobiles, three dimensional solar systems (and you are not allowed to go get the kit from Michael's), posters (literally, dozens and dozens of posters), various model clay creations, the Rube Goldberg project (I'm so sorry if this one comes home to you), and if you had the pleasure of having my son's 7th grade math teacher, a bizarre sewing project that is supposed to teach something about geometry but mostly ends up in having children with fingers so pinpricked and sore they have to eat like dogs because they can't hold utensils any longer. 

What you need to know is this: None of these projects really matter. If your child is still young enough that he/she doesn't even receive actual grades yet then multiply that statement by a thousand. 

Oh, I know. You can't just blow these things off and you don't want to send your child to school reporting to his teacher that, Mom says this project is silly and she said there was no way she was going to miss the Project Runway finale to find me a shoebox, puffy paint and glitter glue so that I could make something that's going to end up in the recycling. 

I get it. That ain't happening.

But I beg of you, keep it simple. Don't let these projects dissolve into tears and missed bedtimes. Whether or not your little one gets an "S" or an "S+" or an "O" or a "?" won't matter in the long run. Tell them to do their best, applaud their effort and make sure everyone gets to bed on time.

My son answered a lot of questions on his college applications but not one of them asked if he could whip out a killer diorama.

3. Take Lots of Pictures Because You Will Never Remember it All

I hesitate to throw this one out there because I know for some people, this is pressure. I'm the sort of person who likes to take pictures and likes to put together photo books, so I'm grateful for the treasure trove of memories we have in the form of photographs, scrapbooks and now digital photo books. If you aren't that sort of person, and you think you won't care someday if you don't have your child's years in school documented, then don't sweat it. This is totally your call.

But for me, I spent a lot of time looking back on photos of Jack leading up to his graduation and I was thankful for every single one. To see how our boy went from that chubby cheeked angel to the handsome young man he is now was more than a little sentimental.

Even if you only take pictures for the big events, or the first and last day of school, just do it. You'll be so glad someday.

4. Take the Best, Leave the Rest

One of the most beautiful things about the passing of time is it inevitably creates a memory filter. Details get fuzzy, people and places get hazy, and anything that isn't carefully documented with photographic evidence becomes victim to the whims of our long term memories.

I say embrace the filter.

My cousin and I, with whom we took several Disneyland trips when our kids were small, always like to look back on the photos and videos of those trips and say, "Look at that! What a perfect trip! The kids were always smiling. No one got sick. Not a single tantrum, whine or complaint. Best trip ever!!"

It's a big fat lie but we don't care.

The truth is, most of it was great. The kids did have a fabulous time. We do have wonderful memories of those shared trips and raising our kids together. 

So that's what we choose to remember.

The same goes for school, or holidays, or sporting events, or anything!

Embrace the filter. 

Remember the good stuff.

5. That's It

Well, I've sat here for a good five minutes wracking my brain trying to think of one more thing I learned from my son's school years and I got nothin'. I guess next time one of my kids complains after staring at the computer for three minutes that they cannot possibly think of one single thing to write for the essay that is due tomorrow, I'll be a teeny bit more sympathetic.

It's possible they get their lack of persistence from me.

But I'm not being graded on this and truth be told there is a stack of laundry that isn't going to fold itself, so...I quit.

Another of the many blessings that comes with growing up is I get to throw in the towel on this one and nobody is going to ground me or give me an "Incomplete". 

Seriously, being a kid can be hard. There are all these people telling you what to do all the time and expecting you to be good at every single subject under the sun (including diorama building) while also putting in volunteer hours, building a "resume" and being an all-around super great guy or gal about whom teachers will write glowing recommendations.

Whenever you can, make sure they have some fun. Make sure they know it isn't all so desperate or scary or life threatening. Make sure they see their future as something filled with hope and potential and worthy of big dreams.

We all know life isn't easy and that being an adult is filled with a lot of hard work. It's okay to tell them that. They need to know that, too.

But a hopeless person is a stagnant person. To be hopeless is to be stuck. Don't let them get stuck.

Feed them on faith and the belief in a plan that is bigger than them. Teach them they are part of a grand story and everyone has a part to play-no exceptions. They are here for a reason.

Let them experience the realities and consequences of life.

But never stop giving them hope.

And love.

Always love.

"For I know the plans I have for you," declares the Lord, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future." ~Jeremiah 29:11

Low-drama Mama

The other night Annie and I were having one of our many, many, many chats about school and friendships and the trials and tribulations of navigating both. Inevitably the conversation drifted toward a discussion about "friend drama" and we ended up talking about what it means to be "dramatic" versus what it means to just express your feelings.

It's a fine line, don't you think?

Anyway, it was a lighthearted conversation and not particularly angst-filled so at one point I leaned in close to Annie and teasingly said, "Do you know who my most dramatic child is?"

Without blinking or missing a beat, Annie looked me straight in the eye and said flatly...

"Tim."

She's catching on, that girl. I think she's gonna be okay.

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The last time I felt really sad about one of my kids taking the next inevitable step in life was when Timothy was graduating from pre-K. He was my baby then and we had been trying for over a year to have another baby so I had a lot of emotions about seeing my littlest taking the next big leap forward. But considering that was 10 years ago now, and given the fairly significant extenuating circumstances, that should give you some indication of my approach to seeing my kids moving upward and onward.

I have never cried a single tear when one of my kids started preschool, Kindergarten or any other grade.

Even when we forced Jack and Tim to change schools in the 8th and 5th grade respectively, and they were upset and nervous and sad about the change, I sent them off to their new school that first day with nary a tear.

When we had our baby, little Annie, change schools a month into her Kindergarten year I dropped her off with butterflies in my stomach but dry eyes.

Now, lest you think I'm cold-hearted, it's not that I didn't have heartfelt, conflicted emotions around all of those events. I prayed mightily for my boys that our decision to change schools would prove wise in the long run. I watched my little girl walk into that new, big school and part of me wanted to run after her and whisk her right back home with me.

But, at the end of the day, as much as there is always part of me that wishes I could slow the hands of time, there is a bigger part of me that sees how ready they are to take that next step. Sometimes more than ready. And life has taught me that holding them back would not only be futile but potentially disastrous. Because my experience is that when a kid is ready for more, leaving him in a place that is stifling him is only asking for trouble.

Anyone who knows me well knows I have many sad feelings about our first child leaving the nest. I don't think anyone can blame me for feeling nostalgic and wistful about such a major life event. But when people talk about tears at graduation or when we drop him off at college, I honestly cannot predict what will happen. I keep telling Superdad to be prepared for anything. I could sail through his graduation with smiles and cheers and nothing more than tremendous pride (and relief), or I could be a torrent of embarrassing, ugly, snot-filled sobbing.

I wish I knew.

I do know though that he is ready. Not ready for every single thing that is going to come his way from this point forward. None of us are ever wholly ready for every eventuality life can throw at us. But he is ready to be done with high school. He is ready to test those wings out in bigger skies, with a smaller safety net. He's starting to chafe against the restraints that are a necessary part of keeping high schoolers in line and teachers sane. And he's ready to trade those restraints for the responsibility that comes with owning your own decisions and your mistakes.

I have seen a lot of kids making some questionable choices as they approach the finish line and as an adult it is so hard not to want to scream at them and ask, "Why are you doing this? You are almost done! Can't you just get through a few more weeks??"

They are acting like children because they are dying not to be anymore.

They remind me of race horses penned into the starting gate. The agitation is palpable. They are straining at the bit and the reins attempting to keep them contained. They prance in place, knowing they can't move forward yet but all of their pent up energy won't allow them to be still. All of their attention and focus is centered on the freedom that they know is coming but is not here yet.

Which is why I don't know that there will be any tears at my son's graduation.

I will be proud and exuberant and yes, a little relieved...but I don't know that I will be sad.

He's so ready.

And as much as I love that boy and will miss a thousand things about having him in our home on a daily basis.

I really am excited for him.

P.S. So, just hold on a few more weeks, son... You are almost there. Just coast to the finish line, Buddy. We are rooting for you all the way.

Kindergarten

The waiting game

When Jack received his first college acceptance letter there was unbridled elation in this household. I was giddy. Even my normally emotionally contained son cracked a big smile, gave a little fist pump, and declared, I'm going to college!

It's not that any of us were ever really worried that he wouldn't be accepted to college. But with your first child the whole process is such a great big, hairy, scary, overwhelming, bigger-than-life process and so even as you look at the numbers and statistics and console yourself that everything should be fine, you just don't know until you know.

Then, he received a few more college acceptances and it got kind of fun there for awhile.

Wow! He has choices! Awesome!

And being the information-seeking person that I am, I poured over all of the material that started spilling into our mailbox from these various schools that had deemed Jack worthy of admittance. I like the process of gathering knowledge, so I had fun with my stacks of college brochures, pamphlets and publications, even if I was, for the most part, a Party of One.

It came as no surprise to me that my son had a different way of going about this process. However, from the outside looking in it wasn't always easy to tell what exactly "his way" was (because it mostly involved a lot of ignoring all of the copious amounts of mail coming from these schools and saying, I don't know, when asked what he was thinking so far) but having known the kid for 18 years, I kept the faith that the wheels were indeed spinning.

And then, he let it be known that he had narrowed his pool down to two schools. Both fine schools where I have every confidence he could be successful but geographically, very different. One is approximately 2 miles from our front door, and the other is in Northern California.

Okay, but regardless, we are making progress! He's got it down to two schools and now he just has to wrestle with the pros and cons of each a little longer and then....

And then...we wait and we wait and we wait.

That was almost 6 weeks ago that he announced he had narrowed the field down to two finalists. And now...he just seems stuck.

If you catch him in the right mood, he will talk openly and willingly about his thoughts and struggles in making this decision. He is wrestling with all the right things but as he said to me only last night,

Mom... It's just a really big decision.

And it is. Probably the biggest he's ever had to make at this point in his life.

So, I'm trying to be patient. I'm trying not to hound him and press him and make every single conversation about this one topic.

But it's hard. I told my sister that I bite my tongue constantly from turning every request he makes these days into an opportunity to blackmail him into a decision.

Oh, you'd like to know what's for dinner? Sure, make a decision on college and I'll tell you.

You're wondering if you could get a new pair of shoes to replace the ones that are now threadbare and have holes in them? Of course! Just as soon as you make a college decision.

Did you just ask if your girlfriend can come over? Of course she can! Tell her that she can come over right after you announce where you are going to college.

But something tells me such hostage-taking tactics might backfire on me.

Fortunately, there is an actual deadline he has to meet and it is rapidly approaching. I know he feels the clock ticking and as anxious as I am for him to make a decision, I also feel deeply for him and know the pain of indecision.

He's a big boy on the brink of making a big decision and taking his first steps out into this big, crazy, beautiful, scary world.

And yet, lately, all I see when I look at him...is this little guy.

And just like that

With the arrival of the telltale large, white envelope from "The Office of Admissions"...

....and this letter containing the most glorious greeting we could have asked for....

...suddenly we have a child bound for college in the Fall of 2013.

We are still 9 months out from our official launch, but I'm happy to say...I think he'll be ready.

I hope I am.

An open letter to College Admissions

Dear College Admissions People,

Very soon (fingers crossed that it will be very soon), you will be receiving from my eldest son an application for admittance to your respective college or university. As I have assisted him in filling out the endless pages on the Common App, made sure that all pertinent details were correct, and nagged encouraged him to persist in writing his essays, I have become aware that in spite of the very comprehensive nature of your application process I cannot escape the feeling that you will not be getting a complete picture of my son.

The measures of success required on the college application are certainly valid and necessary to your assessment of his potential. I'm not quibbling with your methods, just concerned that you might overlook an excellent future college student if you look to those measures and those measures only. I can hope that his essay and teacher recommendation might help fill in the colors and nuances of the portrait that is Jack, but perhaps I can offer some helpful visuals as well. I'm sure you can agree that undoubtedly no one knows this young man better than his own mother.

1. Jack is, and has always been, 100% his own person.

I have yet to meet a child who I worried less that he would succumb to the pressure to be or do anything that he didn't want to be or do. Jack has been known to turn down invitations to parties, tickets to concerts, and a host of other requests that might appear to be socially advantageous simply because he didn't care to go. His sense of self is solid and at times maddeningly intractable, but always, admirably, true to his core.

2. Jack is a confident, unflappable public speaker. He has no fear of getting up in front of a group of 10 or a group of 500, and is known in his senior Speech class as the King of Impromptu speeches. This is particularly useful when you are the sort of kid who occasionally forgets to prepare/practice his speech in advance. (maybe I should leave that part out?)

3. Jack chooses his friends well. His friends run the gamut from being the academic stars of the school, to the athletic heroes, to the seemingly ordinary guys who are just fun to be around. But one thing they have in common is that they accept one another completely, laugh easily, and are loyal to the end.

4. Jack is a good sport. His strong sense of self prevents him from being embarrassed easily which means he's generally willing to take one for the team, so to speak. This includes willingly sitting on Santa's lap at the age of 17.

5. Jack is a terrific older brother. 'Nuff said.

6. And, finally, Jack is uniquely suited to dorm life because of his extensive experience with making the most out of small spaces. Jack has been exceptionally creative within the boundaries of his own relatively small bedroom and I know he could work his similar brand of magic within the confines of dormitory living.

First, there was the unique placement of his desk in relation to his closet. At first glance this might look like a hindrance to hanging up one's clothes, but Jack has addressed that issue as well.  He has perfected a clockwork-like system that involves living out of one hamper of clean clothes, while filling a separate hamper with the dirty clothes until it is time to do laundry again. Repeat cycle. It works seamlessly and eliminates the need to hang up one's clothes at all. The wrinkled look is in, by the way.

And if the desk-closet arrangement wasn't enough to convince you of Jack's powers of imagination and creativity...

...I give you MegaBed.

Yes, what you see there are two twin beds pushed up together vertically with two twin mattresses arranged horizontally across them. I will leave it up to you to imagine which way Jack chooses to sleep most nights but let me just say that I am setting aside money for a chiropractor, just in case.

Nevertheless, surely you can see that Jack is not bound by the limits of societal expectations, the principles of Feng Shui, or good taste. He is a young man destined to push the boundaries and to work outside of the box, all while charming the world with his easy going nature and engaging smile. What college campus wouldn't benefit from the talents and disposition of this young man?

Seriously, he's a good kid.

Could you all just get together and agree that at least one of you will send him a big "YES"?

You won't be sorry.

Sincerely,

Jack's Mom

Ostrich Parents

Last night I figured out what kind of parent I am (yes, it's only taken 17.5 years to put my finger on it...)

I know...I know... I said I hate labels. I know... I said I particularly hate parenting labels. And without exception I still stand by my previously professed hatred but the thing is, my label is just too perfect. So, I hereby give myself an exemption from my aforementioned ban on parenting labels. You can do that when you are living in a single-person dictatorship. It's a tricky balance holding all the power and yet being oppressed at the same time. It's a wonder I can sleep at night.

Anyway, last night was Curriculum Night for all three of my kiddos. That, too, was tricky since I am only one person and Superdad was not available to act as my alter ego for the evening. Even a split-personality-single-person-dictator has their limits and time travel is mine.

So, I had to make a choice. What I really wanted to do was to just attend Annie's 2nd grade Curriculum Night. Why? Because her school is two blocks away, and I work as a substitute teacher there so I already know her teacher and the curriculum quite well. In short, easy peasy. Nothing scary, no surprises.

But, for those very same reasons, I knew that where my presence was really required was at the high school both of my sons attend. I'm quickly discovering that Senior year is a never ending string of forms, dates, deadlines, "don't forgets" and late night panic sessions. And while I have done the Freshman year thing before, it's amazing what you forget in three years and Tim has some different classes then Jack had so prudence suggested that I get on board with the 9th grade curriculum as well (you know, that Prudence is always suggesting stuff... no offense, but she can really be an annoying busybody).

So, I got myself into my car and drove the 30 minutes to my boy's high school only to leave two hours later feeling slightly nauseous and missing my pants because they got scared off me during Block 1 of my eldest son's schedule.

In looking at the boy's schedules I had to decide which of their classes I felt were most critical to attend. Because, as I mentioned, I am only one person and have not mastered time travel. The one class of Jack's that I knew for sure I wanted to attend was his cohort class for his Senior Thesis.

Does the word "thesis" not immediately make you get a metallic taste in your mouth? No? You're lucky then because I thought I was on the verge of a stroke as soon as I started reading through the Thesis requirements.

I was so proud of Jack when he told me he wanted to take the Senior Thesis cohort the first quarter of the year so he could "get it over with". This was one of those times when I thought Prudence had interjected her thoughts and we were all the better for it. I'm starting to wonder if Prudence was just looking to set me up for a big fall (I've always suspected Prudence of having passive-agressive tendencies...).

I guess I was under the impression that the Senior Thesis was due at the end of the year and that you could take the cohort class any of the four quarters. I guess, now that I think about it, that doesn't really make sense. As it turns out, your Senior Thesis is due at the end of whichever quarter you've opted to take the cohort class. What does all that mean?

JACK'S SENIOR THESIS IS DUE NOVEMBER 2!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Oh lordy... my mouth tastes like pennies again.

So, after I peeled myself up off the floor in Jack's Block 1 Senior Thesis cohort class the rest of the night kind of went downhill from there.  Not because anything I heard the rest of the evening was anywhere near as terrifying as the Senior Thesis due date but because I felt like it was all a never ending litany of everything that was going to come along in the next nine months to wreak havoc on my otherwise happy, peaceful home. A single-person dictator really doesn't care for feeling out of control, it's in the job description.

And so that's when it came to me. I'm an Ostrich Parent. I want to stick my head in the sand and ask someone to come along and tap me on the rear when the school year is over. Hopefully by that time I will get to re-enter the world only to find out that Jack has graduated, been admitted to college, and has started remembering to wear his retainer on a nightly basis. In addition, I will be delighted to discover that Tim made the high school soccer team, continued his academic excellence, grew three more inches and got his braces off. And Annie... well, now I'm going to miss watching her grow up over the next nine months. But an Ostrich Parent has got to do what she's go to do. Hopefully she won't have grown so much that I won't recognize her and she will still ask me every single day, "Mom, what kind of dog breed do you want to be today?"

Now you know where to find me if you need me. I'm the one with her butt up in the air and her head in the sand. It may not be flattering, but it's way less scary.

Back to School

Aaaaand... they're off!

Today marks what I consider the first official day of school in our household as it is the first day in which all three of my children are out the door and off for a full day of school.  Annie technically had her first day yesterday, but it was a half-day and with the boys still hanging around watching TV and asking, "what's for lunch" it didn't quite feel like the school year had truly begun.

I will say though that yesterday was beginning to have all the trappings of school days ahead what with Timothy having to pound out the three page paper that accompanied his summer reading assignment and Jack explaining to me all the reasons he is certain he is ready for his summer reading test and couldn't possibly do anything more to prepare himself. Yes...school is here.

If you sense a sigh lurking behind that last statement then you can consider the possibility that you are clairvoyant, or perhaps just mildly perceptive.  Take your pick. Either way, you'd be right.

I'm sure it says something about me that I find myself secretly bemoaning the start of school as much as my children do. I try to keep my back to school blues under wraps in the interest of being a positive role model for my children, but I suspect they pick up on my ambivalence from time to time. Say, when my 7 year old inquires as to whether or not I have purchased all of her school supplies, two days before school starts, and I tell her, "Not yet, honey. There's still lots of time." Or, when I pull out her uniform skirt at 6pm the night before school starts and ask her to try it on to see if it still fits. What was I going to do if it didn't?? Or, when I sit at the dining table with a stack of forms to be filled out on one side of me and my checkbook on the other and I proceed to lay my head down and sob, while pounding my fists on the table crying out, "Why, oh why, oh why????"

Okay, maybe that last one didn't really happen. Well, it did...but only in my head.

So, yeah, I'm sure it says something about me. Probably something not so good. Probably something along the lines of how I take too much of my children's stress and struggles to heart and so therefore I find the school year (inevitably far more fraught with stress and struggle than summertime) to be a much greater test of my strength and stamina than those lazy, sun-soaked days of summer. Probably something like that...

Or, maybe it is something much simpler.

Like a 7 year old who is growing up too fast and keeps us all on our toes as she still spends her days playing with her stuffed animals but also worrying about her clothes and her hair. A second grader who has already experienced tricky recess social dynamics and has had to try to find a way to put a protective barrier around her otherwise very tender heart.

Or, the 17 year old heading into his Senior year with so many unknowns ahead. Emails arrive daily about senior meetings, graduation expectations and work to be done toward college applications. It's the first day of school and already I feel we are running hopelessly behind schedule. And yet, I tread carefully because I can see that he too feels overwhelmed and vacillates constantly between trying to maintain a safe, cynical distance from everything that feels too scary and trying to step up to the plate and get the job done.

And then there's the 14 year old, the Freshman just starting out in the high school. He's more than ready on all fronts but given the fact that he was up at 6am this morning, a full hour before he needed to be, I know there are some nerves going into this day. I worry the least about him, my tenacious jungle cat who always lands on his feet, but I still want the best for him.

I'm sure it's all of those things and even just a quiet sort of melancholy that always accompanies the start of school and early fall for me. Feelings tied up in memories that are now 9 years old but still have their place in my heart and in this season.

But, while it's all of those things, some perfectly valid, some totally unnecessary, I'd also like to think...on a lighter note... that some of my reluctance toward the start of school is simply that I like my kids. Because I do. I like having them home. I like the low pressure days of summer when we can just hang out, or talk about sports or puppies or cars (depending on the child) and eat meals at the breakfast counter and spend lazy days together at the lake. I like getting to just be and there is so much less time for all of that once school and sports and real life charges up again.

I know it can't be like that all the time. I get it. I'm an adult living in an adult world. But I like those times and knowing they can't last forever makes them all the more precious and all the more difficult to let go of.

Even now, as I sit in the quiet of my house making lists of all the things I need to accomplish for both my job outside the home and my job here, I feel myself starting to settle back into this routine. It has its advantages for sure. There is a lot that needs to be done that I left undone in the interest of enjoying our summer. And once I start tackling those tasks I know that I will rediscover the joy that comes with seeing a project through to completion and not having a closet that looks like it has been recently ransacked by pirates. Those are good things, too.

But it was a good summer, and I'm sad to see it go.

Coming in for a landing

You know what's great about having been a parent for over 17 years? Besides having made it through the years of diapers, potty training, tantrums (for the most part) and 3am feedings? No, what's really great is that after nearly two decades of parenting you finally learn that there is no such thing as a parenting "expert".

Don't get me wrong, I was as much a sucker for those shelves and shelves of Parenting books as the next desperate mom with a screaming toddler wrapped around her leg like a chimpanzee. And, without a doubt, there were occasionally bits of information or words of wisdom that gave me some clarity and something new to stick in my bag of tricks. But let's face it, most of us come into this parenting game with our own style and personality that even the best of intentions will fail to undo.

So, while I openly admit that I have devoured dozens upon dozens of parenting books during my years as a new mom, I am finding it nothing short of liberating to finally be in a place where I no longer seek the advice and opinions of self-proclaimed experts who have never even met my particular child. Because therein lies the problem, there simply cannot be a one-size-fits-all method of parenting.

I have never been a fan of labels and perhaps nowhere do I find labeling to be more problematic than in the arena of parenting and childrearing.

Are you a permissive parent?

An authoritarian parent?

An authoritative parent? (which sounds almost the same as being an authoritarian parent but God help you if you mix up the two in the middle of a parenting seminar)

Or, the label most in vogue right now, are you a helicopter parent?

I dare you to use that term in my presence. Really, I dare you. But if you do then you might want to cover your ears because I will commence a screaming fit so ear-splitting that it will send you running for your dog-eared copy of Your Spirited Child to find the section on "how to stop a grown adult from having a tantrum".

This is what I hate (I know, hate is a strong word...) But what I hate is when experts not only create labels, but they create negative labels, with no agreed upon uniform definition, designed to make the "expert parents" feel superior. Because as near as I can tell, a "helicopter parent" can be anything from...

...a mom who runs back into the house to grab her Kindergartner's lunch box off the counter, even though she reminded him once to put it into his backpack.

...to a dad who threatens to sue the school because his daughter is failing PE after having skipped class 10 times over the course of the semester.

Are these really the same thing??

And aren't we ignoring the reality that sometimes the unique needs of our individual children require a wide range of perfectly acceptable parenting responses?

I have two sons.

My boys were born to the same parents and raised in the same household. Both of them had the advantage of a healthy birth and no developmental delays or challenges. They are both fortunate to have strong, capable bodies and have experienced no serious injury or illness in their lives thus far.
And yet for all of the ways they have both been born into good fortune and privilege, one struggled academically during his early years of school, and the other sailed through without even the slightest bump in the road.

The advice you hear these days is all about how children need to feel accountable for their own work.  Parents should leave them to do their own work and allow them to fail when necessary. Providing a child too much assistance or support will only enable them and they will eventually end up unable to perform even the smallest task for themselves.  In short, if you help your kid with his homework you are on a direct path to having him live in your basement until he's 50.

But how does that theory play out with the two boys mentioned above?  Certainly the boy for whom school already comes easily will have no trouble being told to "work it out for himself" or "it's your schoolwork, not mine." But what about the boy who already goes to school and feels like he's staring at a brick wall that he's being asked to climb with no rope in sight? How will he discover he really is capable of learning new and challenging things if someone isn't there to break it down into more manageable steps, while providing him a shoulder to stand on, until he can climb that wall on his own?

I once attempted to have a candid conversation with an educator at my son's school.  She worked in the Learning Resource classroom and I was confiding in her how difficult it was for my son to complete his homework each evening without considerable support.  Not necessarily because the material was too difficult but the sheer quantity of work was enough to render him helpless.

She shrugged and said, "Well, you know, this is probably a good age for you to just let go.  He really needs to sink or swim." (I could almost see the accusing words "helicopter parent" etched on her forehead).

I let her words penetrate for a moment, took a deep breath and said, "Honestly, I'm pretty sure that if I tell my son he can either sink or swim he will just throw his hands up and drown."

Again, she just shrugged.

My son was 10 at the time.

That's the best advice we have for parents with kids who don't naturally excel academically? At the age of 10 they are either college-bound or they are all washed up?

Fortunately, I have a Masters in Teaching myself so I'm not as easily cowed by the opinions of other educators. I am well aware that even among teachers there are vastly different thoughts on how children learn. So, I learned to ignore the "experts" and went with my gut.

My gut told me that my son was one of the many boys for whom time and maturity would work wonders. But in the meantime, what we couldn't do was to allow him to sink into the abyss of "I'm just not good at school..." or "I'm just stupid..." or "It's all too hard..." We continued to be his cheerleaders, his tutors, his coaches and his biggest fans all while looking for ways each year we could step back more and more and let him take the lead.

This year both of my boys will be in high school.  One will be a senior and one will be a freshman. I can't tell you how much joy I feel in thinking about this year ahead in which my sons will spend one year together in the same high school. They had just better get over their complaints right now because there will be a first day of school picture of the two of them.

It also gives me great joy and pride to say that I can look forward to this year and know that both of my sons will be more than capable of handling their own schoolwork, papers, tests and projects. I'm here for proofreading or to quiz them on vocabulary if needed, but otherwise, I know they have got it covered. And, even though there might have been a few hairy moments along the way when I questioned my own instincts, I really always saw this day coming.

Helicopter parents, unite! As long as you are slowly working toward that day when you can bring it in for a landing and shut down the propellors, there is nothing wrong with a little hovering now and then.

Take it from this "expert". Because...really... aren't we all?