As Time Goes By

The last time I even opened my blog, pumpkins grinned fiercely and goblins roamed the neighborhood. Seven months have passed since Halloween and I sit here, astonished that my older son will be graduating from college in just two days.

On a warm sunny day, back in 1999, my son began his education adventure in our local elementary school. Toting an Arthur the Aardvark backpack and sporting velcro sneakers, he headed off without looking back into the kindergarten classroom that became his second home. Six short years later, he and his classmates - now friends - were essentially finished with reading, writing and 'rithmatic and moved on to the Middle School.

In our little corner of northern New Jersey, the Middle School and High School share the same building. The only ones who seemed to mind the fact that eleven-year-olds were running around the hallways with seniors seemed to be the parents. The older kids liked having the younger ones around, showing them where to go, laughing at their supposed stupidity.

Suddenly, three years passed and my son achieved another milestone, moving on up to the High School, after a completely unnecessary Promotion Ceremony. After all, the only difference between the Middle School and the High School is the size of the lockers. 

And now he and his younger brother were both in the same building - albeit with different sized lockers. The elementary years were over and it was time to get serious. 

Above- last day of Middle School
Below - first day of High School
Note that my kids are wearing the same shorts on both days!

The first three years of High School flew by in the blink of an eye. Suddenly, parents were meeting to organize the post-graduation event, Grad Ball (I have blogged about that before here: Wonderment). Fundraising, photographing and construction took place over the course of fifteen months - yup, we started during junior year.  But Grad Ball had an added advantage. We were so focused on the party that we were distracted from the event that the party was to celebrate - graduation. I have to admit, that was not such a bad thing.

Before we knew it, June 19th arrived. It was the hottest day I could ever remember and with graduation to take place outdoors, no one relished the idea. Promptly at 6:00pm, however, with the Ambulance Corp manning the cooling tent, the pomp and circumstance began. All I can remember is thinking that I couldn't believe the day had come and also hoping it would end very quickly.  Did I mention it was the hottest day I could ever remember? It was so terrible that parents finally convinced the principal to let the kids wear shorts under their gowns instead of long pants and shirts with ties.

I have no recollection of that summer, the summer spent acquiring all the accoutrements of college - the bed spread and sheets, the lamp, the printer, the laundry hamper. I barely remember moving him in to his hot dorm on a Saturday in late August, of making the bed, of unpacking the clothes. Of the saying goodbye. But at least he graciously (okay, reluctantly) stood before the tree outside our home one last time before heading south to his future.

How these four years have flown. It is trite, but it seems like only yesterday that I took this photo of him in his High School class shirt, about to make the trip south. Yet, here we are, just two days from yet another graduation on another hot day in still another outdoor venue. This one will be packed with 4000 graduates, not 225. There will be no individual procession to receive a diploma. Those will be sent through the mail. It will be impossible from the stadium seats to pick out my son - still small in my mind - from the crowd of grads all wearing the same outfit. 

But one thing will not be different. The pride I feel of raising two wonderful, amazing boys, of guiding them into college, of watching them bloom and grow will be the same. In the end, though, their success rests entirely on their shoulders. My husband and I only provided the means. They will have to do the rest. And my older son has indeed done the rest. He has been on the Dean's List all eight of his semesters. He added a second major during his junior year and completed all the requirements within the allotted four years, something many of his friends have not been able to do. He lived in an apartment and learned about paying rent and bills, about shopping and cooking for yourself, about becoming an adult.

When this weekend ends, my empty nest will be full again, filled to the brim with boys and all the stuff they have accumulated while away from home. I had gotten used to the quiet. I had gotten used to not finding teenage detritus everywhere. I do not relish that reappearing, but knowing that my boys are here, with me, for perhaps just a little while longer makes the mess entirely worthwhile. 

Parenting - The Purgatory, Um, Blessing That Never Ends

The trouble with being a parent is that by the time you are experienced, you are unemployed. ~ Anonymous

Then and now????????

My oldest son is a college senior. Somehow, I thought he would never grow up and all the little problems of his tiny life would stay small. No such luck. Instead, they years flew by and I am sitting here wondering two things. When on earth did he go from diapers to driving? And how am I possibly old enough to be the parent of an adult?

Okay, so those questions will never be answered, but that hasn't stopped anyone from asking them and I know they  have been asked for, well, a really long time.

Anyway, bigger kids - bigger problems. The time proven axiom of all parents. I mean, when they were three, we worried about chicken pox and potty training.  Now we worry about them finding jobs,  moving into apartments, and suffering the pain of significant others dumping them on the night before they go back to college. Yeah, been there - experienced that particular level of hell. Some worry about them moving home. Others worry about them not moving home. It is endless.

Why can't they stay this small and happy?

At any rate, senior year must present a whole vast spectrum of anxiety for college students.  I remember them. First you wonder how it is possible that those four years are almost over (yeah, yeah, back to time passing too quickly again). Then you worry that you won't find a job. You go through angst over attending the dreaded college job fair along with a thousand other seniors in your position. And then there is THE INTERVIEW.

(I confess that I didn't suffer through that particular senior purgatory. I applied to grad school which was a whole lot less angst-ridden. That presented a whole other set of issues that we can skip until the next kid becomes a senior since he has already made the very bad decision to follow his parents to law school. So, it was a misery delayed for three years, but I was familiar with the problem since friends and fellow dorm residents wallpapered the hallways my senior year with rejection letters. Seriously, there were thousands of them. Okay, hundreds, but it looked like thousands,)

So, one day my son calls, asking if he is supposed to button his jacket. [Insert long pause here while I try to figure out what the heck he is talking about.] Mercifully, an explanation follows that he is attending yet another job fair and he doesn't know if he is supposed to button his suit coat. Aha! Yes, button the coat. Off he goes, distributing resumes like fireman distribute candy during a Fourth of July parade - throw and run and hope for the best.

And then there is a miracle. An e-mail. From one of the businesses. For an interview.  With a company no one ever heard of.  No matter.  He has made it past step one in FINDING A JOB. Then, miracle of miracles, another interview. Oh, joy! Oh, rapture! Oh, the stuff of nightmares!!!!!

Monday passes. Then, Tuesday and Wednesday. Thursday morning around noon, I get the call about the first interview. It goes something like this:

Son: Hi, Mom.

Me: How did it go?

Son: It took five years off my life.

Me (stifling laughter with every fiber of my being): Well, it is over now and you gained good experience. 

Son: My life will be ten years shorter come this time tomorrow.

Me (covering my mouth to avoid making cackling noises): Mmmm,  nnnnn,  wwwwww.

Son: What?

Me: Nothing. Soda went down the wrong way. Hey, look, it is just an interview. Maybe you will get lucky on your first time out, maybe not.  Maybe you will get an offer and then you will know it wasn't as horrible as your suspect?

Son: Yeah, mom.  Right. By the time I find a job, I won't have any life left since I lose five years with every interview.

Me: Okay, well, call your dad and let him know how it went.

Or this small small and happy?

At this point, I hang up so I wouldn't strangle myself while suppressing my laughter because no self-respecting mom laughs at her son's misery. And yet, we wise parents know that this particular misery tends to work out one way or the other in the end. It is a right of passage that all must experience - parents and kids alike.

He survived that first interview and the second as well. He will survive them all. The funny thing is that instead of looking at bumper stickers for ideas on where my children might apply to college as I did in the good old days, I now look for corporate headquarters as I run my errands, looking for places he can send resumes. Seriously, while driving to a farm stand recently, I noted all the corporate headquarters that have replaced the disappearing farm stands.

Yup. The parental torment never ends.  It just moves on from little problems to big ones. Once a parent - always a parent.

And thank goodness for that.  I think.  Maybe. Ugh.

Because of their size, parents may be difficult to discipline properly. ~  P.J. O'Rourke