Sending kids to college: some solid advice

It's that time of year. The Fall semester is looming, and those of you sending your tiny, freshman babies off to their first year of college might be wondering just how to do it.

It's like a band aid, just rip it off.

Kidding. I'm only kidding.

In addition to my own experience of sending two kiddos off to out-of-state college, I've actually taught hundreds of college freshman. Goodness. Many of them arrived well prepared for college life, both academically and practically, and  . . . many of them . . . just didn't. When I taught at Baylor I had a student who explained to me that she had missed my class because she didn't hear her phone when her mom called to WAKE HER UP. I was stunned. This student's mother called her every morning to wake her for class. At that moment I turned to the class and asked, "Just how many of you rely on your parents for a daily wake-up call?" Let's just say, more than five tentative hands started snaking upwards.

And one more anecdote, if you'll indulge me: After failing a girl in my class (she REALLY failed the class, not just kinda-sorta), I got an e-mail from her father demanding that I schedule regular tutorials with this girl over the summer and then change her grade. Wow. Not how college works. At all. Also, had a parent e-mail me to let me know that his daughter would be celebrating her 21st birthday in Las Vegas and would thereby be missing class. But "shhhhh . . . the trip was a surprise." Again. Not how college works. It's helpful to talk to your kiddos about expectations in college, and how they are, in many ways, not at all like the expectations found on a typical high school campus.

My point? Read this article. It's a great essay from a college professor's perspective -- someone who's seen thousands of freshman cross that rocky path from childhood to adulthood. Or, sorta adulthood. I can say amen to every one of her points -- except the one where she tells you not to communicate with your child everyday or every other day or every other other day. I let my kids contact me as often as they wanted, although I did let them dictate the frequency. However, I tried to remain mostly a sounding-board, except for those times I told them exactly what to do. Man, I do miss controlling my children's lives. Those were good times. Sniff.


P.S. Moving your kid in to the dorm? I wrote about dorm living here.

I wrote about taking our first child to college here.

Launching notes: 30-38

It's been about a year(!) since I wrote an installment of launching notes and I think it's high time for another few. What are launching notes, you ask? Here's what I wrote in that first post: 

One day two [now three] years ago, I suddenly realized that Lauren (who's our oldest) would really, truly be leaving home for university at the end of the summer. What had been purely hypothetical for so long was quickly shifting into the actual. Do you know what you do when you think you have just three months left to impart what little wisdom about the world you’ve acquired? You panic a little. You wonder if you’ve done/said/explained enough. And then you realize: no. No, I haven't told her everything yet. 

Anyway, back on that day in 2011 I started writing down some of my observations about being a grown-up that I wanted my kids to know. I called it my liner notes because waaaaay back in the day I pored over the liner notes of CDs, curious to find the story behind the music. What I hoped to do with my liner notes (and still do) was to set down the story behind the music of growing up and setting off on your own, to school my kids in the lyrics of life. (I also interchangeably call them launching notes.)

I should add that now I know that there’s not just one launch day, one departure. Leaving for college is a huge milestone moment for everyone involved but there are still many more moments to teach and debrief and parent, especially during all the comings and goings of the revolving door of the college and young adult years. Now that we've been through that cycle several times with Lauren, my proverbial apron strings are getting all stretched out and frayed from all the tying and retying and adjusting. But I wouldn’t have it any other way.

See other liner notes, 1-29, here.

30. Find a place that brings you back to yourself, a geography of you. [I recognize we haven't made this easy on you, with our several moves around the world. For me it became my grandparents' cabin at Wildwood, a comforting, magical geographical constant in my life. In fact, this whole post is inspired by things I learned at Wildwood. My dream is to have a place like that for our family someday, too.

31. Know what's most important to you. Build your life around those things.

32. Speaking of building, build things that last.

33. Worship in lots of ways. At church. With music. In poetry. In meditation. When holding your babies. In nature. As the fireplace at Wildwood says (via Martin Luther), A mighty fortress is our God. 

34. Relatedly, be curious and conversant about other religions and points of view. Don't make assumptions but seek to understand and look for the good in each person.

35. There's something pretty magical about conversations around a hearty fire. Learn how to build a fire and stoke a good conversation.

36. Find excuses to make things with your hands. You choose: quilts? stained glass? wood carving? cabins? gardens? Find a passion and get good at it.

37. As Mary Oliver said, " I believe in kindness. Also in mischief. Also in singing, especially when singing is not necessarily prescribed." Sing often.

38. Get outside every day. Fresh air clears your brain and moving around in nature brings perspective and clears the sludge from your bloodstream.


I'm writing occasional launching notes, 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.

Launch lab report: Date your dreams

A couple of weeks ago I proposed an experiment in dating dreams and, as promised, I'm here to report back on how it went. But first, a confession. My writing well is empty. Or broken. Something. I really owe some penance for missing two posts last week but here's what was happening behind the scenes:  I was just staring into the writing abyss with nary an insight, not a bit of wit. Blank white screen and flashing, mocking cursor.

But lab reports are notoriously dry, right? I like that low-set bar. So here goes...

Experiment: Date my dreams by trying out small doses of activities/things I think might be interesting to follow as someday dreams

Timeframe: Two weeks, which really isn't enough time to really do this lab justice. This is something more suited to a new years' resolution, in all honesty. But I did manage to try on a couple of dreams to see how they fit: a dream job and a new creative pursuit.

Trial 1:  Date my dream job. A few weeks ago I was offered a temporary position to fill in during someone's one-year maternity leave at exactly the kind of job I had always coveted: managing research at a non-profit/consultancy for children and youth programs, policy, and research. It felt scary but pretty exciting--and the three days a week (T, W, Th) schedule felt manageable.

I have some pretty good, relevant experience supporting me but I knew going in that it was going to be an opportunity to step up to a new level professionally.  In addition, I leapt in at just the moment of high-paced deadlines of the end of the fiscal year. There have been moments when I've had to give myself a pep talk, moments when I felt like doing a happy dance, and moments when I wondered why on earth I had wanted to disrupt my life this way! But it's also been exhilarating in that way that stretching beyond what you thought you could do brings a new sense of possibility. 

Exhibit A: On my third day I had the assignment to co-testify at Parliament to a senate committee on early childhood. Gulp.

Yes, it's been quite a ride so far, mostly exciting and rewarding with a dash of terror. (When it comes to fight-or-flight stress response instincts, I'm definitely in the "flight" category. I immediately start looking for an escape hatch. Or an avoidant nap.) What has saved me as I hike the steep learning curve is the mental framing of this experience as dating my dream and the notion that this is just an experiment to see if it's something I would want to do longer term. It's just a rehearsal, really.  A paid rehearsal no less!

Trial 2: Take on a new creative pursuit. I've mentioned before that I've been feeling the creative itch lately. These hands want (need!) to make things. Ideally, I'd like to be able to create while I sit around with my family, while we watch a movie or are on a roadtrip. I noticed I had been pinning an abundance of embroidery projects to my "make things" Pinterest board so decided to stop pinning and start stitching already.

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Not my actual embroidery, just one of the many inspirations, via here and here

Not my actual embroidery, just one of the many inspirations, via here and here

I LOVE it. It's the perfect zen balance to the higher adrenaline of the new-job experiment. I'm starting with some easy projects in this Stitched in Scandinavia embroidery book but I'm hoping to do both of the above projects as I get more comfortable with the needle. So therapeutic and calming!

Results: The two experiment trials have been positive, overall. I'm keeping both activities for now and I highly, highly recommend the "date your dreams" mentality. 


Enough about me. Have you dated any dreams lately? Do tell!

Into the wild blue yonder

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I'm back from a wonderful trip to New York City, wherein I did my best to install Maddie into summer/intern living in the Upper West Side. Talk about launching -- with Maddie coming home for a month after her freshman year at college and then leaving again, I've been awash with both trepidation and excitement over this new period in her (and my own) life. 

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Before we left for NYC, when Maddie was once again settled into her yellow room at the top of the stairs, I started having vivid dreams about Jordan (my missionary) every. single. night. There was always this overwhelming joy to see her again accompanied by a feeling of unease: "Why are you here? Why am I here? Are we supposed to be here?" My conscious mind has made limited peace with my baby being gone. But my subconscious? She's super angry and confused. She's looking, looking, looking -- always trying to make sense of the absence. It's a wound for sure. And I think to myself, "Children are meant to grow up and leave home. Are we meant to be wounded by this process?" Me thinks, "YES."

So, I'm wounded, but I got to go to New York City!

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Here's where I owe the launching world a bit of an apology. When I took my girls to college I moaned and groaned about the injustice of it all. I wanted them back -- complete with little blond ringlets and perky dimples and their consuming love for Polly Pocket. Even now I'd put up with those tiny rubber pants to have my girlies back. But when I left them at college, I tucked them into their ultra conservative dorms -- the very dorm I had lived in as a college freshman, on the campus where I fell in love with my husband. In essence, it was like taking them to a lengthy summer camp. At grandma's. No worries there. I shouldn't have whined so much about grandma camp. I apologize. I'm older and wiser now.

This time, however, I dropped my baby off alone in New York City. I mean, I won't even let her go jogging by herself in our suburban neighborhood, but I left her alone in New York City!?! It doesn't make sense really. 

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On the flip side, I can see that she needs this opportunity to grow outside the confines of the carefully constructed environment we have created for her. She needs to learn to rely on herself, to know that she can do hard things, that she can show up on Times Square at 8 AM on a Monday morning and say, "I'm here, ready to work." She's already learning that a full time job means working most of your waking hours, and that wearing uncomfortable shoes on a commute to New Jersey means blisters, and that there are super long lines at the Trader Joe's at 72nd Street.

As for me? I'm now praying for and worrying over Bordeaux and NYC. My worrying has gone global!! And isn't it cool that we don't have long distance bills anymore? There's that at least.


For anyone in NYC this summer, our favorite restaurant of the trip was Community Food and Juice in Morningside Heights. And, of course, Levain Bakery in Harlem. We tried out Absolute Bagels. They were delicious, but the whole experience was reminiscent of Seinfeld's Soup Nazi -- I got in big trouble because when I went to pay I didn't specify STRAWBERRY cream cheese. Oops. Also, Maddie is devoted to Brooklyn Industries -- some really cute pieces there.

 

 

 

Growing pains

I'm writing this post from Madison's rented room in the Upper West Side in Manhattan. It's like a dorm, tiny . . . with a heavy, square desk and a twin bed lifted up on risers -- two small dressers stashed underneath. When we got off the plane yesterday, we took a taxi from LaGuardia to this new room -- both of us a little jittery . 

Our cab driver was a friendly man from Senegal. He picked up on Maddie's nervous excitement. He told her this was a great place for kids to learn to be on their own. "Be smart. Be careful. You will be fine," he repeated from the front as he sped through Harlem. I gulped. I wouldn't even let Maddie ride her bike around our suburban neighborhood alone, but now I was going to leave her all by herself in this honking, graffitied mass of people? 

I suppose I am.

Her room is hot -- no air conditioning. Where we come from the words 'AC' and 'no' NEVER EVER go together. Today we trudged down to PC Richard & Sons on Broadway and 86th and bought a window unit. After we paid Maddie stood out in the rain trying to hail a cab. I stood back with the air conditioner. The guy who sold it to us watched the whole thing. Under his breath he murmured, "Don't worry. She'll get it."

I know. Keep telling me that.

Grad gifts

After two consecutive years of graduating my off-spring, this year I'm taking a break. Phew! Graduation and it's associated festivities are so solemn, and final, and just plain exhausting. Yep, this year I can just sit back and admire those darling graduates without intermittent anxiety attacks. My anxiety meter needed a rest anyhow.

I thought it might be helpful to round up some groovy grad gifts. Also, I'm procrastinating, and searching the Internet is my favorite go-to procrastination activity. You can thank me later.

image via AnniePants

image via AnniePants

I LOVE this stamped penny pendant. There is also a keychain for boys.

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One of my girls' favorite grad gifts was a Scentsy warmer with their school logo. They have an entire collegiate collection.

My girls also received some cool personalized water bottles and tumblers with their college logo and name. Check out these.

For kids going out of state to college -- a little reminder of home is always nice. My girls loved these Texas Ts.

Money is ALWAYS nice. The eighteen25 girls are so clever.

Here's something super easy, quick, and budget friendly. Buy this image download for only $5. Print, slip into a frame, and voila . . . instant dorm room art.

Launch lab: reflections on planning

Planning notebook on top!

Planning notebook on top!

It's been two weeks now that I've been planning my day each morning and reviewing my planned tasks each evening. (See my original intent here.) Time to report!

Planning in the morning was relatively easy for me. Some days I was more thoughtful and methodical, while a few days found me dashing off a list while showering, making lunches, and balancing Becca's forgotten choir t-shirt on my head. The upside to the list making, as I imagined it would be, was that I worked further into my day. Rather than mentally checking out at 3 PM and then sludging through the rest of my day, I'd often have to do some real reading or writing in the afternoon in order to check SOMETHING off my list. So, that was good. 

An unexpected side benefit of my list-making is better meal planning. On days I scheduled grocery shopping, I wrote a menu on the back side of my planning page (this way I can keep track of and reuse successful menus). Also, because I conscientiously planned my shopping trips, rather than running out the door at 2:30, I was pretty darn good about getting a week's worth of supplies in one trip. The meal planning alone saved me bunches of time in last minute trips to the store. 

The downside? I wasn't so great at the evening review. If I waited too late, say after 9 pm, I was too tired to really give the list much thought. Also, a few evenings we had kid stuff -- church, orchestra concert, choir performance -- so it was really late by the time I made my way back to ye olde planner. On the other hand, when I attempted a review before dinner it seemed too early -- there were still things to do on my list! Even though I am getting old and forgetful, I found that I really don't need a morning AND evening reminder just yet. I think I might reserve evening planning sessions for particularly busy times -- like before trips or celebrations when there are many small details to consider. 

For now, I'm going to keep making my morning lists and planning my menus on the weekdays. I do better when I corral my thoughts and assignments together in one place. I feel less scattered anyway. Oh, and I should report that the list making helped me to remember Parker's after-school orthodontist appointment. I'm at about 70% on remembering those ortho appointments! Seriously.

What about you guys? Any successes to report with planning?