Climbed a mountain and I turned around

How to Climb a Mountain

Make no mistake. This will be an exercise in staying vertical. 
 Yes, there will be a view, later, a wide swath of open sky,
 but in the meantime: tree and stone. If you're lucky, a hawk will
 coast overhead, scanning the forest floor. If you're lucky,
 a set of wildflowers will keep you cheerful. Mostly, though,
 a steady sweat, your heart fluttering indelicately, a solid ache
 perforating your calves. This is called work, what you will come to know,
 eventually and simply, as movement, as all the evidence you need to make
 your way. Forget where you were. That story is no longer true.
 Level your gaze to the trail you're on, and even the dark won't stop you.

Maya Stein

 . . .

Over the last few months I've fallen in love with hiking. Who knew? I love the solitary climb, the burn as I push myself up the hill, the crunch of gravel underfoot. My barnacled thoughts loosen as I go and I can leave my unnecessary, unhelpful worries up on the trail as an offering at the altar of the day. Up there at the peak of a strenuous climb I feel clearer, my brain scrubbed clean, ready for what matters. 

Another truth follows, though: then I come down.  

Ugh. Yes, sometimes the summit clarity stays with me and holds me over until next time. But often the buzz wears off quickly. After recently launching Lauren on her mission--the latest big figurative mountain I climbed--I've been feeling it this week, the inevitable, predictable post-summit valley. (As I did after our moves. And when L. left for university the first time. And after the holidays every year. And after back-to-school rush. And after the thrill of a fun vacation.) The thing about launching is--if you do it right, then they're gone. (Come on, sing with me now...climbed a mountain and I turned around...then the landside brought me down.  I'm pretty much the poster girl for that song these days. That and the Fiddler on the Roof song about sunrises and sunsets.)

Then I remember this wisdom, discovered a couple of years ago and put to good use ever since:

"You cannot stay on the summit forever; you have to come down again. So why bother in the first place? Just this: What is above knows what is below, but what is below does not know what is above. One climbs, one sees. One descends, one sees no longer, but one has seen. There is an art of conducting oneself in the lower regions by the memory of what one saw higher up. When one can no longer see, one can at least still know"  (Rene Daumal, Mount Analogue).

I'm still figuring out what that means for me, exactly, and how to conduct myself in the valleys. Remembering and knowing is a good start. And new mountains. But first I think I'll take a long bath and indulge in some cinema therapy.

Here's to you and your mountains--to the grit and vistas and the descent and even the occasional landslides.

. . . 

p.s. Speaking of hiking:  In praise of America's parklands and encouraging Congress take a hike.

Launching #2

Guess what I'm doing today? Right now, while you are sipping your morning coffee or Diet Coke, I'm moving my daughter into her dorm. My oldest two kids are a mere 14 months apart (yes, we know where babies come from), and so their life events have always tumbled one right after another, barely giving me time to catch my breath in between. There was kindegarten. And their baptisms --  the beginning of junior high and then high school. I ran the gauntlet of the Texas DMV two years in a row. There were sweet 16s and homecomings and proms. There was graduation and parties and now the moving away. Always one right after the other.

There are some advantages in the quick repeat. I always knew just what to do for Madison -- where to go for the orthodontist, what to bring to set up her locker, when and where to take the ACT . . . stuff like that. Plus, Jordan has usually been around to help guide us both through the labyrinth of teenage milestones. Just before she left for France, Jordan spent two hours helping Maddie select her Fall classes. Registration began at 1:00 AM central time, and I laid down to sleep listening to the ardent and excited murmurs of two sisters in the study -- discussing the merits of late-morning classes and entertaining professors. 

The downside is that the second time around I'm more clear on the endings, the finish lines, the cut-off dates. I'm a little afraid that as I move Maddie into her new life I'll have to relive launching child #1. That the lasts -- for both of them (the last Sunday breakfast, the last family movie night, the last night at home) will pile up skyward, incredibly high, and will avalanche down to crush my sorry, empty-nest self.

On the other hand, maybe I'll handle the launching of #2 with greater perspective, increased wisdom, less late-night ice cream eating. I just don't know at this very moment.  My mental status these days is a bit of a crap-shoot -- incredibly optimistic and grateful one moment, weepy and despairing the next.

In the midst of all of this leaving one word keeps coming to mind -- bravery. While I do (and will) tangibly miss the physical presence of my girls in my daily life, part of my reticence has to do with the idea of moving on. I don't really want to. I know they are moving onward and upward, but I'm also almost entirely certain that I won't find a better way to occupy my time than mothering those sweet girls.

So, bravery. I think I've got move forward with courage and good cheer.  I've got some fire left in me (and two kids and a husband still at home). There's work to do.

I'm going to move this girl into the best, gosh-darn dorm ever and then set about rolling up my sleeves. Hard work and ice cream. I can do it.

Launching notes: School/college edition

This installment of launching notes addresses what I want my kids to know about the student years (see also: mistakes I would avoid, things I wish I would have known, and things that occurred to me too late).

Lauren as a freshman in an impossibly empty bookstore

17.  Dream big*. I think those dreams were planted inside you for a reason. Listen to them, shoot high, and buckle down and make it work. We believe in you.

18.  Browse the university book aisles to find classes/ideas/subjects you might love to take next semester. Oh, and buy the used books as much as you can, keep the receipts, and sell back the ones you don't need longer term (that's probably four in one but this is my list so I'll multiply if I want to :).

19. Ask questions. Literally, in class. You never know unless you ask. Go ahead, raise your hand.

20. Make connections. Between ideas and different classes you take. And, especially, with people: professors/teachers, friends, fellow students. And us, your family. Still connect with us :) 

21. Take advantage of these years*. They're unique and pretty much all about you. Fill 'em up.

22. Be silly sometimes. Have a blast.

23. Learn from your mistakes. You'll make them. It's okay.

24. Take some classes Just Because. Even if they don't count a bit toward your major or graduation. Now's your chance to take ballroom dance/moral philosophy/flower design/golf/whatever.

25. Sit up front now and then.

26. Start those term papers early. Bit by bit is better. Just trust me on this: everyone thinks they can crank out a paper in one procrastinated all-nighter. I'm here to tell you that it will show.

27. Don't walk by yourself after dark. Pretty please.

28. Ask more questions.  Nudge your assumptions, look at things from another perspective, open up to other ideas/explanations/approaches.

29. Remember how very much we love you. We do. We really, really do.

Do you agree with any of these in particular or have something to add? Chime in in the comments. 

* Borrowed from Lee Woodruff's advice to her son when he left for college. Check out her terrific series of posts about sending a child to college: preparing, dropping off, and recovering. Couldn't have said it better myself.

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I'm writing occasional launching notes (read more about them here), bits of advice to my kids about how to be a gracious, grown-up type person--both trivial bits and major advice. 

A few good gems

Happy Friday! I know many of you have started school already. To tell you the truth, I'm always a wee bit ambivalent about the start of school. I'm sad to lose our slower mornings and lazier days, but excited to reintroduce some structure. I do love some structure -- that's the nerdy, controlling side of me anyway. At any rate, we have ONE more week of summer, and ONE more week before we send our baby girl off to college. I'm a little better prepared this time around, but it still feels kind of hurt-y. (At least there's the dorm room to DECORATE.)  

In my structure-less anticipation of the upcoming school year, I leave you with a few good gems: 

via offbeat + inspired

• I've got my Zoku in the freezer so I can make these Peach-Banana Smoothie Popsicles. It's clean eating. All the cool kids are doing it. At least that's what I keep telling myself.
  
• I know you've probably already seen three zillion links to this. But just in case it's skipped your corner of the Internet, you should definitely read about the Opt-Out Generation. That's us folks! (Not that all of us opted out.) What I really, really like about this article is that the difficult (impossible) situation of middle-class, American women is clearly delineated. The two-income household is stressful. The stay-at-home situation has its drawbacks. The returning to work scenario is difficult. You get the idea. Read on my women! (And my men!)
• This article is hilarious. And I tend to agree with the premise. Do you want your daughter to be nice? 
• Anne linked to Cathy Zielske's essay on her daughter's last year at home on our Facebook page, but I think it bears repeating. It's a beautiful tribute to motherhood AND to her relationship with her daughter. Bravo Cathy.
• This envelope pillow tutorial is genius. I've been contemplating sprucing up our living room, so I might whip out the old sewing machine and make a few of these.
• Finally! An article telling parents how to handle sending kids off to college. Written by a USC Dean of Students, the article brakes kiddo-launching into three phases: disorientation, reorientation, and new normal. My personal three stages are stunned and sobbing, walking around with a hole in my heart, and comforting myself with food. But the Dean of Student's way is probably better. Probably. 

Update on letting go

It's been six weeks now since we launched Jordan off to Lyon, France. I'm not sure if you remember, but she gets exactly 1.5 hours of computer time PER WEEK, so we get a weekly e-mail (on Mondays), and she has also been sending a real-life, paper letter that generally arrives around Saturday. I'm not sure how long she'll keep up the real letter writing, but I'm hoping for FOREVER.  Other than the e-mail and letter, she's on her own. This kills me a little bit. Okay, a lot. 

I'm going to be real honest here and tell you that at about the three week mark, I fell apart and spent the better part of two days in bed. My personal method for dealing with difficult situations generally goes something like this:

I'm okay. 
I'm okay.
I'm okay.
I'm fine.
No problems here.

I'm crying on the bathroom floor, and I have no idea why. 

I like to hide my problems from myself until they either go away or punch me in the face. Currently, I'm of a mind to pick myself up and work towards moving on. So that's what I'm doing here . . . dusting myself off and looking around for more productive options. 

The good parts? (all quotes from Jordan)

Reading the weekly e-mail. Typically, it includes PICTURES. 

Learning about her experiences living in another country:

It is HOT HOT HOT here. It’s been in the high 90′s almost every day since I’ve arrived. I was not prepared for that. Thanks for getting my mild summer hopes up Southern France. The weather’s about like Texas, except there is NO AIR CONDITIONING ANYWHERE!!!

 Laughing. She's funny:

We do SO much contacting. We contact on the bus, on the metro, walking on the street, streetboarding. I’m still not really over the awkwardness of it all. Our goal is to contact and talk about the gospel with 350 per week, but this week we talked to 570 people. Streetboarding is my favorite way to contact. We go to one of the squares or plazas in our area with this giant board that has a google map on it of Lyon and it says “You are here….. WHY??” mahahaha I think it’s soooo funny. (Oh no. I’m already weird and I’ve only been a missionary for one month…) But then we just talk to every single person that walks on that sidewalk. Sometimes people say really funny things when we try to contact them like..

“Hi, we’re missionaries for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.”

Random man: “Me too.”

We were caught so off guard that he just ran away.

Or…

“Hi, we’re missionaries, and we’re here to share a message centered on Jesus Christ.”

Random man: “Oh great. I’m having him over for dinner tonight. I’ll tell him I saw you.”

Or…

“Hi, we’re the missionaries from the Church of Jesus Christ- What are your thoughts on God?”

Random old man turns to me and says, “Vous avez les yeux d’une Spaniard.” (You have the eyes of a Spaniard.)

Enjoying her descriptive writing:

Soeur Stevens got a blister yesterday, and today it got totally infected. Her entire leg is swollen and red, and the blister is like the most mutated, disgusting thing you’ve ever seen.

And really? Deep down I know that living in another country, dedicating herself full-time to serving others, even being away from her mom, is invaluable life experience. But I also recognize that there is an inherent contradiction for me, as the mother, to simply set down the charge I undertook 19 years ago to care for this child. So I'm caring in my mind. And in my prayers. And in the $47 I just spent to send a FOUR POUND package.

And life goes on . . . 

 

The dorm

via Vassar College Archive on Flickr

My sister-in-law called the other day with three post suggestions. Her first child is leaving for college in the Fall, and she has some questions she'd like addressed on Nest & Launch. 

Me too! 

#1. When are my kids coming back? 

Anyone? Anyone? 

My sister-in-law, however (not being the freak that I am), is a tad more practical. She's wondering about the DORM. What to bring? How best to set it up?  

Guys . . . I LOVE the DORM. I love everything about it: its efficient use of space, its proximity to campus, the cafeteria where you NEVER HAVE TO COOK, the abundance of cool people all around you. Also, as a parent the dorm offers a sense of security. It's more like dropping your kid off at a really long summer camp. Or boarding school. That's what is is -- boarding school. Not college! Not grown up!

via Vassar College Archive on Flickr

Seriously though, the dorm, at least for me, is one of the fun parts of launching -- so I just launch the heck out of it. Here's a few things I learned last year (Look at me! I'm a serial launcher!):

Practical considerations: The majority of the kids in our community go to Texas schools. This generally means they are only a few hours from home, which allows for some degree of back and forth -- both with people and STUFF. This also means they can just fill up the back of their cars TO THE BRIM and mosey on to school. Going to school out of state is a whole different ball game.  

Here's the mistake I made: We flew with Jordan to Utah to get her set up. She brought two large suitcases and a carry on. Then Sterling and I checked two boxes EACH of additional stuff. THEN, when we got to Provo we visited the Target/Walmart approximately five times and bought everything needed to set up her room. I'm talking a duvert insert, egg crate mattress thingy, printer, bins, school supplies, large containers of shampoo, conditioner, lotion, etc. PLUS, she accumulated a bunch of STUFF over the year. So, then, when school finished up at the end of April, we sent her a plane ticket and told her to COME ON HOME! 

Really? She could have set up house for a small family. We lucked out in that my sister-in-law's parents were driving from Utah to Texas just around the time school let out. They very kindly drove to Provo and picked up FIVE LARGE BOXES, which saved Jordan from selling all of her belongings on the street. Obviously, most out-of-state students make arrangements to store their goods while they are home for the summer. But because Jordan wasn't returning to school for 18 months, most of it needed to come home to roost.

My advice? Don't start off with so much stuff. Also? Plan on storing/transporting her belongings at the end of the year. I already know Madison won't finish up the year with just enough stuff to fit in two pieces of luggage and a carry on. We'll plan better this year. 

With that said, here are the bare bones necessities for the well-stocked dorm room: 

1. Bedding. Madison has been sweating the whole duvet vs. comforter vs. quilt delimma over here. She finally went with this cute set from Target. Note: While the comforter set is in stores now, the duvet set is only available online. The price is incredible. Jordan went with a similar graphic duvet from Urban Outfitters last year, but at this price you could even change it out mid year.
2. Command everything -- hooks, picture hangers, poster hangers. Gather a good supply of these for hanging everything from pictures to towels. Hint: These are often sold out in college towns around dorm-move-in time, so buy early. I went crazy and hung a whole collage on Jordan's cinder block wall. Because I love dorms. Have I mentioned that yet? 
3. Medical supplies (and how to use them). Chances are your college student is going to get sick. It's helpful to have common over-the-counter medications on hand since Momma won't be there to run to Walgreens. I went over this in greater depth here. 
4. Shower caddy. Maddie's dorm has the old-school bathroom down the hall, so she'll have to schlep her shower supplies back and forth each day. 
5. Laundry basket. And a prayer. Actually, Madison is pretty particular about her clothes, so I feel confident she will wash her clothes. Some boys I know? It's questionable. 
6. Printer. Lots of kids don't have printers in their dorm rooms because the university does provide a number of convenient print centers. However, Jordan was super glad she had a printer, and the scanner on top came in handy a number of times when she needed to send documents to us at home. Her printer is sitting in a basement in Utah right now . . . just waiting for Madison.
7. Decor. To decorate? Or not to decorate? We tried to homey the place up enough so she would be comfortable, but not so much that she'd need a professional moving service to bring her home (that didn't work out exactly as planned). A few pops of color help to tone down the institutional nature of the place and give those babies a little practice nesting themselves. Look! I brought that full circle. 
8. Storage. Because the dorm is so small (about a quarter of my girls' room at home), organization is key. After assessing the closets and shelving, we bought a bunch of different sized bins to keep stuff together -- some with lids, some open. We also bought two large under-bed boxes for ski clothes and bulky sweaters/jackets that she didn't need to access everyday. 
9. Dishes. And silverware! Jordan's dorm had a full-service cafeteria where she ate all of her meals, which led us to believe she wouldn't need any dishes in her room. But she had a small refrigerator, so she would bring home leftovers when she ate out. And she ended up eating cereal in her room most mornings, which necessitated a bowl and spoon. Then she told me one day she was making hot chocolate in her cereal bowl. Ummmmm, get a mug sistah. 

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One of my favorite things in Jordan's dorm last year was a watercolor painting of our home. It was done by Rebekka Seale, an incredible artist who includes a digital copy along with the original painting. I just printed one up, threw it in a Target frame, and  . . . voila  . . . instant don't-forget-your-momma art. I'll be making another for Maddie for sure. (Yep, that's our dog, Indie, out front). 

Launching notes, 11-16

11. Find and emulate good mentors. Personal mentors, spiritual mentors, academic and professional mentors--whether in person or distant, they light the way toward the person you were meant to be. Wonder about what makes them so terrific. Notice what makes them tick, what their habits are. Use those things as a pattern for your own self. (Then, of course, thank them for their inspiration.) 

12. On a related note, sometimes you have to fake it 'til you make it/make a leap of faith. Not all the time. But every once in a while, you'll feel kind of like an imposter when you first _______ (become a parent, start a job, graduate from college, fulfill an assignment or calling). It's okay; make the first steps, get out there and the way will appear beneath you (thank you, Kierkegaard and Raiders of the Lost Ark).  

13. Learn a little ballroom dancing. You never know when you'll be invited somewhere (wedding? ball? inauguration?) that it'll come in handy. But until then, when in doubt on the dance floor and some kind of ballroomish dancing is required, just step forward together, side together, back together, side together, making a kind of square.

14.  Sunscreen, baby. Every single time.

15. Embrace a little fear. Do it anyway. Recognize it as a little signal that you're giving yourself the chance to grow.

16. Read the paper, listen to the news, be able to discuss issues intelligently. Get your information from lots of sources, not just the ones that confirm what you already thought you knew. When you don't agree with someone, be willing to listen to their point of view and articulate yours with respect and kindness.

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I'm writing occasional launching notes (read more about them here), bits of advice to my kids about how to be a gracious, grown-up type person--both trivial bits and major advice. Do you have any launching notes to add? Keep 'em coming!  You can email me through the link in the sidebar.