Goodbye - Hello

"I'm going to write a blog about your last year at home, the whole transition thing ... from high school to college, childhood to independence, full-time mom to empty nest ... how it feels for you and for me."

"Okay, whatever."

Accepted

Maddy understandably decided she wasn't much into me blogging about her life, afterall.  But she did approve the following announcement:  she's been accepted to several places, most notably Western Washington University in Bellingham.  Laurie's favorite acceptance is Savannah School of Art & Design.  And they're both deliriously happy.

We're heading back to Bellingham in April for the official "accepted freshman" weekend, when her other choices are also clear, and then she'll decide. 

I'm still writing about this year, stuffed appropriately in my bedside journal.  When she's in her 20's or 40's or, if she happens to ask, I'll wrap it in satin and pass her story back to her.

Apps Done

Completed, submitted, paid for .... Colorado College, Muhlenberg College, Appalacian State, UNC-Asheville, and Americorps CCC in case come June Maddy prefers to jump into a gap year.  She'll probably add a few more in the next few weeks (Western WA, U of Oregon & Utah, Bard are up there right now).  But I'm impressed - she ploughed through.  And we learned Common App uploads have to be in Times New Roman ...

Now it's on to financial aid forms.

And I'm feeling way better.  Combo of EFT, Reiki, Friday night sob, Saturday yoga class & long nap cleared out the vibes that had caused me to drown in open air.  Wild animals will shake, shudder, and roughhouse after a pointed confrontation or stress.  Releases the energies.  My unusual deep sleep in the afternoon sun felt just the same. 

I'll see Lindsey again in 12 days -- that helps, too. 

Re-Entry

This must be what clinical depression feels like, and it sucks.  My day job's in mental health so I know the diagnostic symptoms -- flat affect, lost enthusiasm for things once enjoyed, either excessive exhaustion or insomnia wracked with circular obsessive thoughts, and unending hopelessness.  I feel like someone shut off my inside lights.

When I decided to blog about my daughter's transition to college I anticipated the unexpected.  But I never imagined I'd be editing my daughter's college essay via email in between reading in the Las Vegas Review Journal that a 17-year-old lostsoul considered shooting my niece in the back but murdered her boyfriend instead.

I posted the day of the shooting, but deleted it within hours, realizing I should not contribute to any public Outing of my niece, eyewitness to an unsolved homicide.  But I'm reposting it now (see below), to explain my writing absence and because suspects are jailed, confessions and other witnesses secured, prosecutions underway, and her name's already seared online.  The detective is growing tired of reassuring us that Lindsey's safe, but I'm finally beginning to believe it.

I spent 9 days in Vegas helping Lindsey design a program for the memorial service, purchase funeral attire, take leaves from school and work, reread Joan Didion's Year of Magical Thinking, drink margaritas, and wrap our heads around the unfathomable.  While back home Maddy submitted her application for Appalachian State, drafted other essays, and finished a huge project for English class.  I edited Maddy's essays and papers while languishing 8 hours in Atlanta's Hartsfield International Airport.  I texted Lindsey at least fifty times.  

I'm home now and my frustrated daughter is sitting across the room trying to re-compose essay sentences that I suggested need some work.  We've hurled obscenities at each other once (a pretty amicable work session for us).  But she's determined to finish all her applications today, and I've promised to help.  I feel better, benefitting from another unexpected sobbing fit last night, my husband walking in the house to find me crying uncontrollably while cutting broccoli.  He patiently and kindly reminded me -- again -- that Lindsey's still alive.  I both laughed and felt humbled by waves of illogical emotions.  And then finished making dinner.

Here's what I didn't anticipate learning when I started this blog:  that overwhelming emotions and symptoms of clinical depression don't follow the beat of logic (although logic does help when reaching for relief).  And that gratitude -- the glorious fact that I can still explore college plans with my daughter and my niece -- can feel this good.  

I just saw my boyfriend get shot.   My wake-up text from my niece this morning.  The subsequent flurry ... drive-by, random ... she wasn't hurt ... he's unstable, in surgery ... I'm at his house, his Mom's at the hospital.  Twenty minutes later:  He died.  She laid in his bed sobbing, waiting desperately, she said, to awake from her horrible nightmare.  She got off the phone when his mother returned, who -- bless her beyond words -- has wrapped my niece up into her own family's grief and love. I thought the text was from Maddy who'd spent the night with friends after Homecoming.  She'd had a fabulous week.  Toga day, her friends among the Homecoming court.  Last night her Dad made a magnificent feast for a dozen of her friends.  Then to the dance.  Pictures, music, dancing, laughter, a good party afterwards.  I knew she'd be heading out to breakfast before volunteering at the Wooly Worm Festival, we planned to finish some college apps this afternoon, make lentil soup, hang out just the two of us since John and Alden are out of town ...  I wasn't prepared for my niece's text instead, although who would be?  On what day of the fucking week or month, year or lifetime would someone be prepared to receive a text from your 20-year old niece that as she and her boyfriend walked across his front lawn to go out to eat some guys randomly drove by, jumped from the car waving a gun, demanded money, and shot him while she ran screaming terrified back into the house.  The police said they'd robbed someone else down the street, too.  They kept emphasizing that it was "impersonal."   To them, understandably, their effort to reassure that no drugs, gangs, or vendettas were suspected.  But of course, it's awfully damn personal to her, to the young man's mother, to the families, to me. I'm flying to Vegas tomorrow.  I plan to hold her for a really long time.

Doing Our Own Thing

Maddy & I have been doing our own things the last two weeks.  I'd say I'm really enjoying this phase, but, truthfully, I've loved every phase of parenting, each more compelling than the last.  Infant to toddler, diapers to her own wildly mismatched outfits, dress-up to Barbies to school dances ... just a blink ago she required the structures of mid-adolescence -- curfews, "What are you doing and who's going with you?" and house rules intended to sustain adult authority and parental protection.  I even got into being the most annoying mom in the world.  

Now we've landed on less hands-on parenting but more mutual respect, and I'm loving these deeper shores, too.

The new transition means we text each other our whereabouts rather than ask permission (her) or feel guilty when extending a business trip to play (me).  She goes with her friends to out-of-town concerts, tours UNC-Asheville alone with Lou and Laurie, checks into a Winston hotel with three friends ("Mom, we had to shop since the mall was right next door, and the jeans were such a good deal ...") and then next morning they get themselves to an excellent CapEd's SAT Boot Camp.  Even when we fight -- and we are fiery screamers -- we both know when to retreat, laughing civilly through our cell phones when face-to-face embers still smolder.

Last week while I was in California Maddy took the SAT, arranged letters of rec, drafted application essays, and painted the bathroom.  (John keeps our homefires ablaze and our kids blissfully humming when I'm out of town, and I hope he knows I am the most grateful wife on the planet.)  Tonight she made a 3-course dinner merely because she was first to reach the kitchen.  When John and I go to Atlanta next weekend she'll take the dogs for a run and make sure her inevitable party doesn't attract the cops.  

This is a cool phase, even with that party thing.

I do get wistful remembering a passel of cherry-cheeked kids on those luxurious snow days when I was still an ever-present mom.  They'd sled and shriek for hours, speeding furiously all the way down to our distant mailbox if the snow was just right. I'd hand out wool socks and prepare hot-chocolate warmth and bottomless pizza, lugging the big tv into the living room so they could watch a roaring fire alongside Julia Roberts (for the zillionth time).  I loved those days something fierce, even mopping up the puddle of snow gear abandoned by the front door.

But I feel a holy passage as I migrate from life director to awed witness of an unfolding adult.  My daughter is an amazing person, and this phase offers a miraculous glimpse from a brand new perspective.

Best Friends

Debbie & I met at preschool orientation, my first week in town.  She and another friend had schemed to find a new friend and seems I was the pick (Nancy liked my earrings; Debbie didn't like my hair but thought I was brave to wear it.)  Maddy and Laurie hated each other, but we forced them together anyway. I still remember the first play date, my 3-year-old climbing all over Debbie's kitchen counter while we baked cookies.  Debbie took an aggravating zillion years to make the perfect sandwiches, I recall, but I've since relied on her zen.  I used to feed them in the bathtub, which they loved and Debbie found bizarre, but she learned to accept, eventually maybe appreciate my preference for fun first.  

Our only children learned to love someone else so much they changed themselves for the better. 

Maddy's the serious powerhouse, fearless, compelling, fun, blunt, in-charge, doesn't much know or care what anybody thinks.  Laurie's the opposite, funny, sweet, quiet, always sensitive to the needs and feelings of others.  Maddy yells; Laurie's passive-aggressive.  Maddy's always moving, doing, dancing, was handy with an electric drill and paint rollers at far too young an age.  Laurie loves to read, talk, and lounge.  

Left unchecked Maddy woulda been that bossy, manipulative, power-hungry girl we protect our children from.  And Laurie never woulda left the house.  

They loved each other early, but they took much longer to navigate those differences successfully.  Most of the time they played together great.  But eventually Maddy would rev up, get more and more controlling and Laurie would shrink.  When Laurie reached her fill she would refuse to have anything to do with Maddy, who'd get devastated. Round & round they'd go, Debbie and I rescuing less and less as they got older.

In the end Laurie taught Maddy how to add nice, sensitive, and accommodating to her array of stengths.  And Maddy taught Laurie to go out there and be herself with confidence.  We count on Maddy to organize, and Laurie keeps us laughing.

All of which come in handy 15 years later as we sit at that same kitchen counter anticipating their futures.

Eight Hours Later ...

We finally convened last Saturday to Do This Thing.  Maddy, Laurie, Debbie, and I -- each with our own laptop -- lined up along Debbie's kitchen counter.  Maddy filled in Americorps and Common applications, Debbie and I divided & conquered an bleery-eyed lists of schools, Laurie practiced Mavis Beacon's "learn to type" so every few minutes would lament "Damn, I sunk another plane!"  

Radford's art courses were amazing, 'till we realized some of the stellar faculty hadn't actually been there in years ... Colorado College first did it's block schedule so faculty and students could spend more time questioning the Viet Nam war (learned this from a friend who taught there -- said she loved it and they were the only students ever who read everything assigned) ... no way will Maddy get accepted to UCSB, it's all by the highest numbers imaginable ... the Sweet Briar homepage is so pink & green I suspect the graduates wear bows instead of tassels ... Middlebury, Sarah Lawrence, Smith, Swathmore Amherst describe dance as nectar sweet for the gods ... U Oregon, U Colorado, UNC Greensboro more government-issue but still rich ... North Carolina is the best in-state deal for the buck I've found, but Maddy's best fit (Appalachian State) would keep her in the hometown she's desperate to leave.

Ugh.  

We refrained from drinking, although not sure why. I did a spreadsheet, which dulled my headache some (I love spreadsheets), and we stumbled home 8 hours later. Both Debbie and I dreamt of gruesome disasters and disorganized chaos the whole following night.

Time and its Gifts

Our Sunday afternoon push didn't happen, but we're working on it anyway.  

Chapman's out -- Maddy's not into their annual Broadway style dance-musical.  Middlebury's in with all its modern dance.  Colorado College has a cool block schedule (one 3.5 week class at a time) but my Denver friend texted the town might not suit Maddy's politics.  ("Go straight on Ronald Reagan Blvd. then turn right at the Focus on Family Building ...I'm not kidding.")  UCSB's back on the list.  U Oregon, too.

Yada yada.

The more I researched, though, the more I felt this weird time crunch, so much too do, so little time.  My tight chest worries we're already late.

When Maddy was an infant I decided that at least once a day I would make sure she could do something of her own choosing for as long as she pleased.  Nursing, staring at a single page in a colorful book, filling the same pitcher to water the same plant over & over ...  Fortunately my boss shared my suspicion that the universe was better served if my toddler could tie her shoes herself, as slowly as necessary, than if we rushed out the door.  Mads spent 10 years in Montessori when I learned Maria shared a similar belief. 

I'm not sure why I made that commitment, but I quickly recognized its value.  First of all, it wasn't a big deal -- not once did she do something so long that I had to cancel my life or shoot myself from sheer boredom.  

More importantly, she experienced Time as her ally, merely a law of nature like gravity or propulsion, that provides the intangible space necessary to do something 'till it's done.  Acquire a new skill, explore new surroundings, wrestle with an idea, finish a project.  No racing against, speeding up, or running for time ... all those futile battles against an enemy we can never defeat.  

Instead she learned -- more likely I learned -- that Time can be a good thing if we flow instead of fight.  Time is just a neutral space that gently offers a new moment.  And if we accept those moments as they come then things seem to unfold exactly when and how they should.  

I know college apps have deadlines, and Maddy's maniacal about meeting them.  But I hope we allow time to give us all we need in the process.

 

Getting More Serious

Finally saw my kid yesterday.  She's been at her Dad's all week, and between her dance & my work we've missed each other after school.  (Her Dad lives nearby, and -- as anyone who knows me would expect --  we've never had a schedule.  We all get along great, so we wing it based on every-changing activities.  At 17, Maddy comes and goes between homes as she chooses.)  She stopped by my office, ostensibly to work on college applications, but after we caught up, she fell asleep.  (The mono is improving dramatically, but the rainy day & cozy couch were too inviting.)

We realized we're talking about college plans a lot.  Seemingly all the time.  Weighing incessantly the options -- big school, small school; close to home or New England or those places where her favorite bands are currently touring (suggesting a Cool factor, not necessarily to turn groupie, although reminiscing about the 60's & 70's and the current delightful lives of my once-groupie friends, perhaps that's not a bad option?) (The gigs are in California and Washington, by the way.)  

All this talk is becoming a bit repetitive and annoying, particularly since we don't seem to resolve anything.  

So our best friends & we will dedicate Sunday to Concrete Action.  Maddy & Laurie will complete applications while Debbie & I sort through FAFSA and scholarship guides.  We will schedule more visits and any required auditions and portfolio reviews (Laurie is an amazing artist).  I'm thinking we'll also need to bake chocolate chip cookies, some comfort sustenance through all that tactical engagement.

Maddy has banned all college-related conversations until then.

Fortunately Debbie defied the ban to reminded me today's the deadline to pay for the October 24 ACT so my wallet & I must sign off. 

Roadtrip Zen

Maddy felt worse so we cancelled the remaining trips to Rhode Island and Vermont and headed home from Hartford early Friday morning.  She spread out across the back seat, sleeping and watching movies while I drove uneventful, I-84 west across New York and then straight down I-81, through Pennsylvania, Maryland, West Virginia, Virginia, and Tennessee.  Some crap food, an hilarious moment running out of gas (relishing my brand new Rav4 I just forgot to eye the gauge. I was delighted to learn AAA would rescue me from such idiocy.  Maddy did several exasperated eye-rolls, but I spied a smile.)  

It was a gorgeous blue-sky day, without agenda or impediment, just settled in an anciently familiar road trip zen.  Long drives offer me unparalleled silence, a chance to think or not think, to count my life's blessings, glance softly at the scenery, or indulgently repeat my favorite song or book excerpt over and over again.  Maddy's always in the back, with her blanket & pillow, earphones blaring Little Mermaid or Seinfeld or the newest Radiohead.  At dusk we ate meatloaf, green beans, and fresh berry pie at the Mountain View restaurant and watched the almost-full moon rise up over the back hill.  It carried us along the rest of the way, big and white across the indigo sky, and made the 14 hours fly effortlessly by. Finally home, John, Alden, and the dogs greeted us so boisterously I almost forgot my looming sense that these road trips are soon to end.

Truth is, my heart will shatter the day my daughter leaves home.  But I'm assuming the shards will reshape into a glorious new sculpture.