Off To College

Reprinted from August 28, 2008 - in honor of all the moms letting go as their kids pack up and head out to college.

I could just tell they were “college shopping”. The mom and her son were putting a set of bed sheets into their cart. Right away I thought of the day ten years ago that Jonathan went off to college. In fact, it was our first experience with one of our children living away from home.

Oh my gosh, I thought we would never get going because he waited until the day before to pack. That night when he was wandering around aimlessly, I made him a little checklist. Good thing I did, because he would have forgotten his alarm clock.

In less than 24 hours I think I managed to tell him everything I thought he needed to know. Not that I hadn’t been trying to teach him all along, but you know – it’s the last minute second-guessing, wondering if you did the parenting right that gets you.

The drive into unknown territory took a couple hours. As we were parked outside his dorm unloading our car, I quickly realized that the girls I saw moving in were carrying quite a bit more than we were. Lamps, furry chairs, bulletin boards – lots of big stuff. I do remember picking out a set of extra long twin sheets for his bed, plus a basket to carry his shampoo and soap in to the shower, but other than that – he packed up the most important things – his computer, stereo and television. Oh, and some clothes. Plus his school supplies - a pen, notebook and folder.

As we stood in line to check in, I found myself leading the way. All of a sudden I realized – I have to let him do this by himself. So I stepped back.

And waited.

Finally he got in line. He picked up his keys, filled out the paperwork and we trudged upstairs to find his room. Why are dorm rooms always on the top floor?

I did the introductions to his roommate. Well, someone had to say something! You guessed it, he is very shy. So shy in fact, that he proceeded to put his computer together without even looking at the other guy in the room. So I did the small talk - my thoughts are in parenthesis here for you to read.

Where do you live? (Just got out of prison.)
What do your parents do? (Alcohol and drugs.)
Do you have brothers and sisters? (In half-way houses.)
What are your hobbies? (Playing with knives and guns.)

We walked around campus and took care of some business. I think we walked about ten miles – or at least long enough for my feet to really hurt. We ate some lunch and then went back to the dorm room. His roommate wasn’t there right then, so I thought we should say our good-byes and get going. No eighteen year old guy wants a kiss from his mom in front of his new roommate. Plus, we had to pick up Mickey at Grandma’s.

That’s right, I still have a 5-year old at home to take care of. Almost forgot.

I gave my son a big hug and kiss and told him I loved him. I told him to call me. (This was before cell phones, texting and even before instant messaging, mind you.) Then we left.

About twenty-nine miles out of town, my eyes welled up with tears. I silently sobbed for a half hour and then was real quiet the remainder of the trip. Finally I was okay - until that evening, when I went downstairs to his bedroom.

As I got to the bottom of the steps I looked around. A lot of his things were gone – but a lot of stuff was still there. His golf ball collection and the posters on his wall. His cds and dart board. Plus the clothes he didn’t need to take along.

I don’t know why, but I opened his top dresser drawer.

Staring at me were fifty-two white socks that were missing mates.

And I bawled my eyes out.

Blessings to all college kids on the brink of independence. And blessings to their parents during this tough time of giving them wings.

Truffles, Anyone?

I’d been driving for the past two weeks with my car’s amber check engine light staring me in the face. But since the car wasn’t spitting or sputtering, I was in no hurry to take it over the bluff once again to see what the dealer’s computer had to say about the little light. Until I realized that this weekend I would be driving my daughter and a friend, plus my two granddaughters and their mother on a two hour adventure across the Mississippi River into Minnesota. Safety is of course, a top priority.

So I called for a service appointment.

The drive over the hill was pretty. Queen Anne’s lace and black-eyed Susan’s were in full bloom along the roadside. Corn stalks yielded fuzzy tassels billowing in the gentle breeze. I even spotted a white-tailed deer grazing in the soybean field – wary of my passing through, but not quite enough to make him bolt. And as a bonus, the pot holes in the road were freshly filled.

I dropped the car at the dealership and Mickey and I decided to take a stroll around the block. It had been years since I had explored the little town of Wabasha, Minnesota. Lots of things there have changed – the dime store is gone, the grocery store has built a new building closer to the highway, and the local mercantile is now office space. In their place, Wabasha has focused its energy on the new National Eagle Center and several small specialty shops and antique stores.

And a chocolate store. An awesome chocolate store. Filled with chocolate.

I knew right away I was not leaving this place empty-handed. The only question in my mind was - which treat would I choose? The weathered pine floor boards in the old brick building creaked as I paced back and forth in front of the counter. Peering through the glass with my taste buds practically jumping out of my mouth, I spotted some cashew turtles. And some butter almond toffee. And truffles of every flavor – raspberry, mint and even oreo.

A half-pound of turtles lends you about six of them. Of course the box was too big so I told the clerk to add two more. At least that filled the box – and it looked a lot better. The half-pound of butter almond toffee fit into a box about four by six inches.

Mickey and I stepped outside and sat on the bench in front of the bookstore. I couldn’t wait and cracked open the box of turtles. The caramel enveloping the cluster of cashews was homemade as well. Sticky and buttery, it stuck to my teeth. Mmmm. The chocolate melted in my mouth (and my hand). Mmmm.

Back at the car dealership, I was happy to find out that they were able to diagnose and fix my vehicle on-site so I didn’t have to come back tomorrow. The gas cap had a leak in it. Which I guess can be a safety factor should you roll the vehicle over. So they fixed it – with a $81.17 gas cap.

Oh, and don’t forget the $26.95 worth of chocolate.

Hmmm…maybe it would have been fun to have to come back tomorrow.

To try the truffles…

Fancy Schmancy

A fancy, schmancy storm door sat on my back porch for a month. Until one day when I told my husband that we didn’t need a carpenter, we could put this up ourselves.

How hard could it be to hang a storm door anyway?

Knowing that my husband doesn’t normally read directions, I pre-empted his potential answer with, “if we read the directions carefully and gather all the tools we need ahead of time, I’m sure it will be easy.”

For the record, here are five things the directions don’t mention: a flashlight, reading glasses, caulk (the magic fix-all), shims, shims, shims (I'm counting this as one word), and patience (better know as the ability to re-do something twice without getting mad and throwing hand tools).

He lay down on the deck to try and see the tiny little spot where the bottom screw should go into the frame. But without his reading glasses and a flashlight, this was just a spot in the dark – literally. Like a surgical assistant holding the flashlight, on-cue I handed him first his glasses, then the screwdriver, and finally the screw.

After four hours, we had the frame up. This took longer than expected because we had to shim out the door jamb on the right side to equal the left side. An episode from This Old House? And then I had to paint the shims white to match the frame. Finally, caulk – the magic fix-all – covered the holes where the wood chisel made too deep of a gouge in the jamb.

By now, dusk was slowly drifting the back porch and the glow of the flashlight was no longer enough to see by. We temporarily hung the door in the frame and braced it with a big flower pot, just in case the wind decided to try and take the door away from us overnight
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Two four-hour-days later, (which equals eight-nine hours) our fancy, schmancy storm door was completely hung and operational, double closer and all.

Nobody will ever notice the shims. You can’t tell because of my marvelous paint job.

Nobody needs to know that we hung the top door closer in the wrong spot and had to re-do it. You can’t tell because of my marvelous caulk job.

Hanging the storm door was not hard - just terribly time-consuming.

But it sure does look awesome. You might even say fancy, schmancy.