Can this child squeeze any more partying out of summer before her college life (of partying) begins?
I think not.
Earbaby seems determined to go to any and every gathering, cookout, hangout, alleged party within the city, all the neighborhoods, and a few of the surrounding towns, before she bids farewell. I guess all that teasing from her dad about going to school with farmers has made her decide that now is the time to practice dancing until the cows come home.
EB has found the perfect job for her new lifestyle we call, what's-for-dinner-can-I-go-out-there's-a-party-at-(fillintheblank)-and-can-I-take-Steve?
Her job is as a camp counselor. The hours generously start at noon, and end at six, which gives her enough time to come home, find dinner, retire to her lair to eat it, take a shower, spend time texting with her friends for the info on who, what, when and where, take a shower, get dolled up, and get out of the house. With Steve.
Steve is what EB has named her dad's car. She informed us his full name is Steven Carmichael Jordan Mullin the 3rd, and even though he may be on his last legs -- OK tires -- he is the traveling companion who safely gets her where she wants to go. And apparently, Steve has never met a party he didn't like or couldn't finagle his way into.
When her dad and I aren't rolling our eyes at her constant search for the perfect dance venue, we're hoping she gets it all out of her system. In three weeks, we expect her to get serious and buckle down with her schoolwork (Yeah, right).
But this has been EB's summer of summers. She always liked going out with friends, especially this past year, when she found herself again and reestablished herself among the people who really care about her. But in the last couple of months there is more frenetic energy, as if she has suddenly realized that everything, and everybody, will be different later on. Even though she knows she'll undoubtedly see many, if not most of her friends over the Thanksgiving holiday, she recognizes that the distance and time will mean they won't have the same friends, classes, likes, dislikes, and general things in common any more.
I've tried to prepare her, but not in a sad way. I had two best friends through most of my formative years, especially through high school. But the three of us went our separate ways after graduation, and we actually never got together again until our 20-year reunion. One moved to California, and that was her first time back. Before there was texting, there was still constant contact. We'd check in every day on what we were wearing, what our after-school activities would be, who the crush of the day, week, month, was, whose turn it was to have drama. EB's friends check in much more, all day, and all night, sometimes. Still, it will be interesting to see how fast the drop-off will be as they all find new friends, and new dramas in new settings.
So maybe I understand that frantic need to connect with somebody every single day. She's not anticipating being lonely in school. But I'm sure she wonders if she'll feel as close to her high school compatriots when she returns. I want to reassure her that even if she doesn't, it will be all right. Life is all about the changes.
I've also noticed a bit of a push-back from growing away from us. We didn't have to push this baby bird from the nest. She has spent quite a bit of time this past year (and the previous one) poisoning it on her way out. But every once in a while the baby bird wants to creep back in. She'll ask me to do something for her she's perfectly capable of doing for herself, she'll want attention, physical affection of a back rub, or she'll nostalgically rub my ear in the way she soothed herself when she was tired or anxious as a baby. Then it was cute. But now she wears acrylic nails and being stabbed in the ear isn't the barrel of monkeys you'd think it would be.
This month has been such a contrast. EB is getting more and more excited about going away to school, and more and more anxious about going away to school. Yes, she will be thousands of miles away. But she's already worked out that she'll see us nearly every month. We will visit for Family weekend in October (I wouldn't be surprised if it's the first and last time she wants us to), she'll have more than a week home for Thanksgiving, and then there will be at least a month for Christmas. And as my husband and I talk about our spring vacation plans, she is already saying, "wait for me!"
So this summer is for eking out the last vestiges of carefree school friendships. It's for establishing oneself as a bonafide city mouse before becoming, or at least coexisting with the country mice. It's for pulling away from mom and dad, while still wanting to be their baby. Finding herself and losing herself.
She's standing on the precipice of adulthood and trying to both jump off and hang on. I feel for her. We all had to do this. So I know she'll do just fine.
Party on, Earbaby. Party on.
Showing posts with label Old friends. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Old friends. Show all posts
Monday, July 31, 2017
Friday, June 30, 2017
Friendship rings
Earbaby is all graduated. Her two maternal aunts, a cousin, a new baby cousin (the next generation!) and her 94-year-old grandma, all came to the Northeast corner of the country to celebrate the last grandchild's foray into the new world. It was a fun, momentous occasion. She was later joined by cousins, an aunt and an uncle from her dad's side for a dinner in her honor.
And now the real world beckons.
As EB prepares for this next part of her world, it's been interesting to note how she balances her old life with the impending new. She's been out of school and adrift for almost a month and a half now, sleeping late, going out with friends, spending the gifted money she's received almost faster than she gets it (a physical impossibility that still baffles me), and yet becoming more anxious, not only about the fall, but the rest of the summer.
She's got to get a job. And she's actually turned down two jobs, because she's been promised another one through the city resources. She's been through workshops, CPR training, and yet the days drag on, with no start date in sight. After several emails to the coordinator, she was told she had mandatory three-day training for 2 1/2 hours in the middle of the week she had an intensive (and expensive) dance camp. When she told the coordinator those didn't work for her, she went into panic mode, thinking she had turned down two birds in hand and would be denied the promised one in the bush.
Now that mandatory training has been moved to the first week in July, since apparently she wasn't the only one who couldn't make it. There actually are some kids who were still in school until the last week of June. This has been quite the messy process to get a summer job, that will eventually last only a little more than a month before she is off to the wheat and sunflower state.
But she has occupied her time (between sleeping and Netflix) with lots and lots of friends. It seems every day she finds a new group or friend or two to just hang out with. It doesn't hurt that she has access to a car, but at least a couple of her friends have also been willing to drive to go to the beach, or to the mall, or to just get food. I figure they are all trying to squeeze in their last summer before they scatter to the winds of college or trade school. Interestingly, many of her friends are male and all platonic. She doesn't seem interested in dating any more, and we don't even talk about it. There will be time for the warning talk before we say our goodbyes, but for now she seems much happier with herself as a single lady than she ever was as half of a dysfunctional couple. This summer is definitely a turn for the better.
But June has been quite the swoon. Three straight weekends of whirlwind activity included her final dance recital, her graduation and her college orientation.
The trip to formerly my state U, and now Her State U, was for the most part good, but where would we be without the occasional return of the snarky attitude?
EB is a small city kid. I'm snarky enough to consider our place of residence a little city, because I grew up in what was then the second (now third) largest city in the country. But she's still a city kid, and she's going to a country college town, albeit one rated one of the top college towns for satisfaction, etc. Anyway, we spent a hot weekend in the middle of the country. Her dad and I got to spend a couple of days alone tooling around the countryside, since we both like long drives. EB went to two-day summer camp on steroids.
Of course she was snarky and crabby about it, texting us to ask if we could pick her up from the dorms early (we didn't) because it was boring and a waste of her time. Then she was tired, because they never let them rest. But even though she wouldn't participate in some of the goofiness, she couldn't keep from having somewhat of a good time, despite the fact that the temperature was 90-plus degrees every day. And she did make friends. One can only keep from smiling a little for so long in the face of all that relentless cheerfulness.
But the other part of her crabbiness came from the constant contact with her friends who went to Punta Cana, in the Dominican Republic the same week she had orientation with the country mice. The Snapchat stories and texts that she saw seemed as if everyone was having a much better time than she was, even with a few hiccups. (The stories ended up being a lot less fun, and a lot more dark when everyone got home, and she realized that even had we allowed her to go, her friends would have gotten on her nerves.) So EB spent way too much time comparing getting herself ready for college with the kids who work so they could go on the trip where there was drinking, drugs and sexual misconduct. After she heard the stories, she seemed to stop wishing she had gone.The reality didn't sound nearly as glamorous in the cold light of day. But she couldn't know that while she was turning her nose up, resisting the charms of the Wabash Cannonball dance.
Next month, God and the city services willing, Earbaby will have her first steady job. It will only be for the summer, but I'm hoping she will plan on saving something for college. I can't keep her in Starbucks and Dunkin' Donuts for the next four years. In the meantime, she's waiting to hear from the dance department to see if she can start right away with her minor selection, since she didn't get any help in that department from the adviser who helped pick her classes in the psychology department. She was reticent about contacting the instructor we met in October, but I'm trying to make her see that she will have to advocate for herself in the coming years. We pay the bills, but we can't do everything for her anymore. Those days are over.
But it's going to take a minute before she's ready to let go.
And now the real world beckons.
As EB prepares for this next part of her world, it's been interesting to note how she balances her old life with the impending new. She's been out of school and adrift for almost a month and a half now, sleeping late, going out with friends, spending the gifted money she's received almost faster than she gets it (a physical impossibility that still baffles me), and yet becoming more anxious, not only about the fall, but the rest of the summer.
She's got to get a job. And she's actually turned down two jobs, because she's been promised another one through the city resources. She's been through workshops, CPR training, and yet the days drag on, with no start date in sight. After several emails to the coordinator, she was told she had mandatory three-day training for 2 1/2 hours in the middle of the week she had an intensive (and expensive) dance camp. When she told the coordinator those didn't work for her, she went into panic mode, thinking she had turned down two birds in hand and would be denied the promised one in the bush.
Now that mandatory training has been moved to the first week in July, since apparently she wasn't the only one who couldn't make it. There actually are some kids who were still in school until the last week of June. This has been quite the messy process to get a summer job, that will eventually last only a little more than a month before she is off to the wheat and sunflower state.
But she has occupied her time (between sleeping and Netflix) with lots and lots of friends. It seems every day she finds a new group or friend or two to just hang out with. It doesn't hurt that she has access to a car, but at least a couple of her friends have also been willing to drive to go to the beach, or to the mall, or to just get food. I figure they are all trying to squeeze in their last summer before they scatter to the winds of college or trade school. Interestingly, many of her friends are male and all platonic. She doesn't seem interested in dating any more, and we don't even talk about it. There will be time for the warning talk before we say our goodbyes, but for now she seems much happier with herself as a single lady than she ever was as half of a dysfunctional couple. This summer is definitely a turn for the better.
But June has been quite the swoon. Three straight weekends of whirlwind activity included her final dance recital, her graduation and her college orientation.
The trip to formerly my state U, and now Her State U, was for the most part good, but where would we be without the occasional return of the snarky attitude?
EB is a small city kid. I'm snarky enough to consider our place of residence a little city, because I grew up in what was then the second (now third) largest city in the country. But she's still a city kid, and she's going to a country college town, albeit one rated one of the top college towns for satisfaction, etc. Anyway, we spent a hot weekend in the middle of the country. Her dad and I got to spend a couple of days alone tooling around the countryside, since we both like long drives. EB went to two-day summer camp on steroids.
Of course she was snarky and crabby about it, texting us to ask if we could pick her up from the dorms early (we didn't) because it was boring and a waste of her time. Then she was tired, because they never let them rest. But even though she wouldn't participate in some of the goofiness, she couldn't keep from having somewhat of a good time, despite the fact that the temperature was 90-plus degrees every day. And she did make friends. One can only keep from smiling a little for so long in the face of all that relentless cheerfulness.
But the other part of her crabbiness came from the constant contact with her friends who went to Punta Cana, in the Dominican Republic the same week she had orientation with the country mice. The Snapchat stories and texts that she saw seemed as if everyone was having a much better time than she was, even with a few hiccups. (The stories ended up being a lot less fun, and a lot more dark when everyone got home, and she realized that even had we allowed her to go, her friends would have gotten on her nerves.) So EB spent way too much time comparing getting herself ready for college with the kids who work so they could go on the trip where there was drinking, drugs and sexual misconduct. After she heard the stories, she seemed to stop wishing she had gone.The reality didn't sound nearly as glamorous in the cold light of day. But she couldn't know that while she was turning her nose up, resisting the charms of the Wabash Cannonball dance.
Next month, God and the city services willing, Earbaby will have her first steady job. It will only be for the summer, but I'm hoping she will plan on saving something for college. I can't keep her in Starbucks and Dunkin' Donuts for the next four years. In the meantime, she's waiting to hear from the dance department to see if she can start right away with her minor selection, since she didn't get any help in that department from the adviser who helped pick her classes in the psychology department. She was reticent about contacting the instructor we met in October, but I'm trying to make her see that she will have to advocate for herself in the coming years. We pay the bills, but we can't do everything for her anymore. Those days are over.
But it's going to take a minute before she's ready to let go.
Wednesday, May 31, 2017
School's Out! ('Til college)
This is the end of an era. And it's pretty much all over until the cap and gown ceremony. And the parties that come before and after.
But suffice to say, Earbaby is more than ready to turn the page on high school. She's been at her venue for six years, starting there as a seventh grader. The school was huge then. She was coming from an almost all-white, smallish Catholic school. She stepped into so much diversity, she immediately stopped feeling like "the other." There were so many "others." There were other biracial kids, there were plenty of kids who spoke Spanish as a first language, plenty of black kids, white kids, Asian kids. Her friend circle quickly widened to a United Nations, in ethnicity, religion, and orientation. This school has served her well.
And now it's time to go. And she's ready.
EB started her countdown, probably around February, even as we were still stressing about college acceptances and where her next residence would be for the foreseeable future. But it really started in earnest around April. She only had a month and a half to go, and while we urged her not to start slacking up on her work (all college acceptances are provisional, dontcha know), there were some days of senioritis. The kid who practically had to be on her deathbed to miss school, suddenly acquired the constitution of a butterfly, and a prolonged case of the sniffles (or, I don't know, vapors?) would have her begging to stay home from school. No money on Netflix was ever so well spent.
Once we were all set with preparing for the prom (her date was a really nice and good friend, and they all had the time of their lives), she started getting ready to say goodbye. There were plenty of days she would come home and say, I am so ready to get away from these people, and many other words to that effect. Yes, she would surely miss her friends, but after so many of them flaked on her when she would try to make plans this entire school year (!), she was sarcastic when they begged her not to go so far away to school.
Oh, now you're going to miss me? she told me she would say. Yes, we both remembered the weekends she would make plans, and one by one, her friends would bail on her. One time, after she had gotten all dressed to go out, and everyone stood her up, she cried in frustration. Yes, she's ready to leave the high school drama behind, even the drama of her own making.
And she will leave with some good memories.
She's gotten closer to some acquaintances, who have now become good friends. She's regained a stronger sense of herself, something woefully missing during the lost junior year of heartache, headache, and out and out betrayal. Hard lessons learned need to remembered as she gets ready to strike out far away from parental involvement. Actions have consequences, snakes show themselves early (and often), and manipulators and controllers shouldn't ever be given the time of day.
But Earbaby is worried too. She knows she's in for a culture shock. But no matter which school she had chosen, it would have been a culture shock, whether HBCU, Midwestern or Southern. It was not going to be anything like home. While she's excited for the change, some of her teachers, well-meaning maybe, but short-sighted definitely, have warned her about going to a red state.
When I pointed out that none of these naysayers had ever been at the campus she chose, she accused me of sugar-coating my alma mater. I wish I could tell these teachers to skate in their own lane. They are contributing to the general anxiety she is starting to feel about moving away, but can't recognize it if her teachers are warning her about white supremacists, which (1) exist every where, even in the bluest of blue states, and (2) are less likely to be tolerated in a college town and on a college campus.
Incidents have been swiftly rooted out and shut down. Stupidity is embarrassing for college campuses and schools who rely on good press and alumni dollars. Racism is everywhere teachers. Stop telling my kid to be afraid. You're actually hurting her growth. You're not more concerned about her welfare than her parents. We would never send her anywhere we didn't think was safe, and you feeding her anxiety about leaving us, makes her think otherwise.
So yes, I'm ready for her to be done too. She's got a couple of weeks of inactivity, before the whirlwind of graduation, orientation, dance workshop for a full week and then a full summer of a job. She will end the roller coaster ride with her first semester in a state far, far away.
She vacillates between poisoning the nest with snarky comments and attitude, and being clingy and needy. This is her final stretch run, and I can tell she's not sure she's ready for it. It's going to be a long, complicated summer.
Sigh.
But suffice to say, Earbaby is more than ready to turn the page on high school. She's been at her venue for six years, starting there as a seventh grader. The school was huge then. She was coming from an almost all-white, smallish Catholic school. She stepped into so much diversity, she immediately stopped feeling like "the other." There were so many "others." There were other biracial kids, there were plenty of kids who spoke Spanish as a first language, plenty of black kids, white kids, Asian kids. Her friend circle quickly widened to a United Nations, in ethnicity, religion, and orientation. This school has served her well.
And now it's time to go. And she's ready.
EB started her countdown, probably around February, even as we were still stressing about college acceptances and where her next residence would be for the foreseeable future. But it really started in earnest around April. She only had a month and a half to go, and while we urged her not to start slacking up on her work (all college acceptances are provisional, dontcha know), there were some days of senioritis. The kid who practically had to be on her deathbed to miss school, suddenly acquired the constitution of a butterfly, and a prolonged case of the sniffles (or, I don't know, vapors?) would have her begging to stay home from school. No money on Netflix was ever so well spent.
Once we were all set with preparing for the prom (her date was a really nice and good friend, and they all had the time of their lives), she started getting ready to say goodbye. There were plenty of days she would come home and say, I am so ready to get away from these people, and many other words to that effect. Yes, she would surely miss her friends, but after so many of them flaked on her when she would try to make plans this entire school year (!), she was sarcastic when they begged her not to go so far away to school.
Oh, now you're going to miss me? she told me she would say. Yes, we both remembered the weekends she would make plans, and one by one, her friends would bail on her. One time, after she had gotten all dressed to go out, and everyone stood her up, she cried in frustration. Yes, she's ready to leave the high school drama behind, even the drama of her own making.
And she will leave with some good memories.
She's gotten closer to some acquaintances, who have now become good friends. She's regained a stronger sense of herself, something woefully missing during the lost junior year of heartache, headache, and out and out betrayal. Hard lessons learned need to remembered as she gets ready to strike out far away from parental involvement. Actions have consequences, snakes show themselves early (and often), and manipulators and controllers shouldn't ever be given the time of day.
But Earbaby is worried too. She knows she's in for a culture shock. But no matter which school she had chosen, it would have been a culture shock, whether HBCU, Midwestern or Southern. It was not going to be anything like home. While she's excited for the change, some of her teachers, well-meaning maybe, but short-sighted definitely, have warned her about going to a red state.
When I pointed out that none of these naysayers had ever been at the campus she chose, she accused me of sugar-coating my alma mater. I wish I could tell these teachers to skate in their own lane. They are contributing to the general anxiety she is starting to feel about moving away, but can't recognize it if her teachers are warning her about white supremacists, which (1) exist every where, even in the bluest of blue states, and (2) are less likely to be tolerated in a college town and on a college campus.
Incidents have been swiftly rooted out and shut down. Stupidity is embarrassing for college campuses and schools who rely on good press and alumni dollars. Racism is everywhere teachers. Stop telling my kid to be afraid. You're actually hurting her growth. You're not more concerned about her welfare than her parents. We would never send her anywhere we didn't think was safe, and you feeding her anxiety about leaving us, makes her think otherwise.
So yes, I'm ready for her to be done too. She's got a couple of weeks of inactivity, before the whirlwind of graduation, orientation, dance workshop for a full week and then a full summer of a job. She will end the roller coaster ride with her first semester in a state far, far away.
She vacillates between poisoning the nest with snarky comments and attitude, and being clingy and needy. This is her final stretch run, and I can tell she's not sure she's ready for it. It's going to be a long, complicated summer.
Sigh.
Tuesday, February 28, 2017
Promposal, wisdom surgery and wonder of boys
In less than 24 hours, my Earbaby turns 18. She wants dinner with us at one of her favorite Italian restaurants, and she's going to get her belly button pierced. I'm good on one of those, unhappy about the other, but now officially letting that battle go. Legally it's her decision to make now.
But this has been a good month in this lead-up to what will be probably be her last official birthday celebration with us in our house. At least for awhile. I expect she will be celebrating the next three or four out of state at some college somewhere and her dad and I will call her, then toast the wonder of our parenthood (and wonder what the heck do we do now?) from afar.
I'm not sentimental about all this yet though. As I said, it's been quite a month.
Earbaby has been reconnecting with a lot of her friends, and despite her ongoing frustration with their lack of planning, promptness, or insight on how their inability to stick to a plan affects others, she loves them, and they love her right back. So when one friend took advantage of a couple of snow days and asked if he could come over to have me re-twist his dreadlocks and brought three others with him, I was glad to see them all, and experience the wonder of boys.
For one thing, they're loud. And funny. They are still kids though, and I found myself feeling very protective toward these young black men who would probably be perceived as a threat by the outside world, but packed their backpacks with board games so they could sit in my kitchen and play Monopoly and Connect 4, while another reveled in getting his hair washed and conditioned. We pulled out frozen chicken wings to heat up and feed the gang and EB's dad brought home pizza and Coke, and I marveled at the difference in energy of teenage boys and teenage girls. Girls tend to be much quieter, conversational, and organized, but boys connect with each other in different ways. They decided they wanted to go to a party at a community center and as I fixed hair on yet another head (my dread-locked friend was under the hair dryer), they proceeded to show another one how to dance. EB was given permission to go to the party with them (I trust her with these guys, who are the brothers she never had), so as she ran upstairs to get ready, I watched the boys talk to each other and demonstrate rhythm in a way I thought only girls did. Boys teach each other to dance? I was tickled by getting this rare view into a world I didn't know existed.
Of course I am also fascinated by how EB interacts with them, and they with her. When she's wearing her sweatpants and has her hair pulled up in a bun, they tease her mercilessly and she gives it right back. But EB reappeared after a fashion, ready to go out dancing and looking like a goddess. The boys fell silent for a millisecond, and then went back to pretending they don't notice that she's beautiful. They went to the party with her, made sure she got safely into a Lyft for the ride home and it was another successful day getting back to her old, better self. And yes, her friends are foolish, but she loves them.
Then there's the big dance. EB started talking about her senior prom months ago. We had to iron out some bumps in our relationship after the debacles of last year, but now that for the most part, she's finding her way back to sanity, it's been pretty good. So when she started talking about going all out for prom, I was more on board than last year when she started talking big money.
She also was OK about possibly going on her own, or just with a few friends. That is until she decided to invite a former classmate who transferred to a different school, but still liked hanging out with his old classmates. Even though there was no romantic entanglements between them, EB decided she couldn't just call or text him and float the idea of going to the prom. She created a poster, conspired with mutual buddies to show up and videotape the event and of course, got an immediate affirmative hug.
The dress shopping this year also was less stressful. Her first choice dress was $650, which she dismissed as too expensive even before I had time to object. We went to a great place one afternoon, pored through many styles and colors (she looked fabulous in every one of them), and finally selected a gorgeous gown that was simple, elegant, and different from the current mermaid trend. I told her she reminded me of Diana the Huntress. Now comes the hunt for the perfect shoes and a matching tie for her date. Since there may be several friends going together as a group, I told her we should explore limousine services. Even though she has her license and drives to school most days, she has no interest in chauffeuring herself to the prom in formal dress and heels. I figure this is her last hurrah, she should go in style.
Then there was the wisdom teeth surgery. EB had to have all four impacted teeth removed and chose to have it done right before winter vacation. Good thing too, since the anesthesia made her emotional and loopy for a few hours and the subsequent pain knocked her out of commission for five days. It was necessary to have them all done since the bottom ones were growing in sideways and her bottom teeth were being pushed out of alignment, an enormous problem for someone who has already had two stints wearing braces. It was more than a full week before she stopped being achy and miserable, but still rallied to go out with friends, because she just didn't want to stay in the house, in her room, in her bed, for another day.
As for that belly button thing? That's EB's present to herself. She's wanted one for awhile and so the day she turns 18 will be the day she will strike out on her first act as a legal adult. She knows it will be painful, take awhile to heal (and after last week's surgery that she doesn't have the highest threshold for pain), but has already decided if she doesn't like it later, she will just let it heal over. A friend told me that if that's the worst thing, let it go. So I have. In the grand scheme of things, this first strike for legal independence is minor. She's got a whole lot of days ahead where her decisions will be good ones or painful ones. It's just part of becoming an adult.
Ouch.
But this has been a good month in this lead-up to what will be probably be her last official birthday celebration with us in our house. At least for awhile. I expect she will be celebrating the next three or four out of state at some college somewhere and her dad and I will call her, then toast the wonder of our parenthood (and wonder what the heck do we do now?) from afar.
I'm not sentimental about all this yet though. As I said, it's been quite a month.
Earbaby has been reconnecting with a lot of her friends, and despite her ongoing frustration with their lack of planning, promptness, or insight on how their inability to stick to a plan affects others, she loves them, and they love her right back. So when one friend took advantage of a couple of snow days and asked if he could come over to have me re-twist his dreadlocks and brought three others with him, I was glad to see them all, and experience the wonder of boys.
For one thing, they're loud. And funny. They are still kids though, and I found myself feeling very protective toward these young black men who would probably be perceived as a threat by the outside world, but packed their backpacks with board games so they could sit in my kitchen and play Monopoly and Connect 4, while another reveled in getting his hair washed and conditioned. We pulled out frozen chicken wings to heat up and feed the gang and EB's dad brought home pizza and Coke, and I marveled at the difference in energy of teenage boys and teenage girls. Girls tend to be much quieter, conversational, and organized, but boys connect with each other in different ways. They decided they wanted to go to a party at a community center and as I fixed hair on yet another head (my dread-locked friend was under the hair dryer), they proceeded to show another one how to dance. EB was given permission to go to the party with them (I trust her with these guys, who are the brothers she never had), so as she ran upstairs to get ready, I watched the boys talk to each other and demonstrate rhythm in a way I thought only girls did. Boys teach each other to dance? I was tickled by getting this rare view into a world I didn't know existed.
Of course I am also fascinated by how EB interacts with them, and they with her. When she's wearing her sweatpants and has her hair pulled up in a bun, they tease her mercilessly and she gives it right back. But EB reappeared after a fashion, ready to go out dancing and looking like a goddess. The boys fell silent for a millisecond, and then went back to pretending they don't notice that she's beautiful. They went to the party with her, made sure she got safely into a Lyft for the ride home and it was another successful day getting back to her old, better self. And yes, her friends are foolish, but she loves them.
Then there's the big dance. EB started talking about her senior prom months ago. We had to iron out some bumps in our relationship after the debacles of last year, but now that for the most part, she's finding her way back to sanity, it's been pretty good. So when she started talking about going all out for prom, I was more on board than last year when she started talking big money.
She also was OK about possibly going on her own, or just with a few friends. That is until she decided to invite a former classmate who transferred to a different school, but still liked hanging out with his old classmates. Even though there was no romantic entanglements between them, EB decided she couldn't just call or text him and float the idea of going to the prom. She created a poster, conspired with mutual buddies to show up and videotape the event and of course, got an immediate affirmative hug.
The dress shopping this year also was less stressful. Her first choice dress was $650, which she dismissed as too expensive even before I had time to object. We went to a great place one afternoon, pored through many styles and colors (she looked fabulous in every one of them), and finally selected a gorgeous gown that was simple, elegant, and different from the current mermaid trend. I told her she reminded me of Diana the Huntress. Now comes the hunt for the perfect shoes and a matching tie for her date. Since there may be several friends going together as a group, I told her we should explore limousine services. Even though she has her license and drives to school most days, she has no interest in chauffeuring herself to the prom in formal dress and heels. I figure this is her last hurrah, she should go in style.
Then there was the wisdom teeth surgery. EB had to have all four impacted teeth removed and chose to have it done right before winter vacation. Good thing too, since the anesthesia made her emotional and loopy for a few hours and the subsequent pain knocked her out of commission for five days. It was necessary to have them all done since the bottom ones were growing in sideways and her bottom teeth were being pushed out of alignment, an enormous problem for someone who has already had two stints wearing braces. It was more than a full week before she stopped being achy and miserable, but still rallied to go out with friends, because she just didn't want to stay in the house, in her room, in her bed, for another day.
As for that belly button thing? That's EB's present to herself. She's wanted one for awhile and so the day she turns 18 will be the day she will strike out on her first act as a legal adult. She knows it will be painful, take awhile to heal (and after last week's surgery that she doesn't have the highest threshold for pain), but has already decided if she doesn't like it later, she will just let it heal over. A friend told me that if that's the worst thing, let it go. So I have. In the grand scheme of things, this first strike for legal independence is minor. She's got a whole lot of days ahead where her decisions will be good ones or painful ones. It's just part of becoming an adult.
Ouch.
Monday, January 30, 2017
New Year in a different gear
And so the race to the finish line of all that is familiar begins.
Earbaby has headed into her graduation year with new challenges and anxieties and we're just trying to ride out the daily storms. When she isn't hiding in her room, napping, eating, watching anything on Netflix, or losing brain cells because of Love & Hip Hop or Mob Wives, she's dancing. And dancing. And dancing.
EB has started to narrow her choices in what she wants to major in for college and dance is going to be a part of it, at least as a minor. A sociology class in school has piqued her interest, and now psychology/sociology is on her radar as something she is acutely interested in. Adding a dance minor now means she may be looking for a combination of those subjects that could morph into dance therapy. These ideas and interests are subject to change, but I'm just glad she's starting to focus on what she wants to do in the next chapter of her life.
And the college concerns have begun anew. While she is guaranteed a spot in Kansas, she is now taking a longer look at historically black colleges in the south. Now it's just a matter of if she will be accepted, if we can take a trip to see it, if she will like it, if the price will be astronomical because she is from out of state, if there will be any scholarships or grants available and offered to her, and if we can still afford it if there is no scholarship or grant money. But other than those minor issues (!) no worries, right?
Also, she is already talking about prom shopping. Of course she won't wear either dress from last year, and the date from last year is persona non grata (she won't even say his name), so anything associated with him is forever tainted. She is thinking about going alone, but still wants a really fancy (read: expensive) dress for her senior prom.
EB has also tried, with limited success, more outings with friends. She planned a New Year's dinner with mixed results. It was the usual nonsense from teenagers, half wouldn't commit, some came late bringing more people than planned for, and she was upset with the chaos. She still ended up with a bunch of friends to bring in the New Year, so that was a win. I reminded her that her friends were always chaotic and sketchy on details of outings and the story she told of the night actually ended up being kind of funny. Other outings haven't always been as funny; a recent attempt at a group movie date ended with everyone bailing out on her at the last minute and her ending up going to the mall and for ice cream with a friend. She won't acknowledge her own culpability in these failed plans -- group chats that half the group ignores, phones that always die, assumptions made on where and when, abrupt changes in plans and last-minute decisions to do something together in the first place. Because she now has access to a car, she forgets that others still are coming from all over the city on public transportation and have to plan accordingly.
But at least she's trying to find her footing among friends again. After nearly a year of isolation, she just has to be more patient. And forgiving.
At the end of the day, there's still her dance. EB just got fitted for her first pair of pointe shoes, a humongous step for someone who for years fought taking ballet, the foundation for being a strong professional. She's had 15 years of dance, but has really buckled down in the last few, with different studios and disciplines. Now she has six dance classes a week and helps out in a seventh. She's busy, tired, but realizing that the time for getting ready for a college dance program is growing very short indeed. I'm just happy that she isn't wasting time with people who diminish her instead of uplifting her.
This first month of the new year has been all about her introspection. Yes, she wants to spend time with friends, but her focus is no longer on parties and all the bad behavior and decisions that it led to in the past. She isn't really interested in romantic entanglements, after a few months of a flirtation with a classmate that just seemed to not get beyond the texting phase. She's been pegged to do more modeling and believes it will help her self-confidence and I believe she's absolutely right on that. Right now, she says, she's working on herself. After that long time of trying to please so many others, who turned against her, I believe she is focusing on the real person who matters. Like the man says, you can't please everyone, so you just have to please yourself.
Earbaby has headed into her graduation year with new challenges and anxieties and we're just trying to ride out the daily storms. When she isn't hiding in her room, napping, eating, watching anything on Netflix, or losing brain cells because of Love & Hip Hop or Mob Wives, she's dancing. And dancing. And dancing.
EB has started to narrow her choices in what she wants to major in for college and dance is going to be a part of it, at least as a minor. A sociology class in school has piqued her interest, and now psychology/sociology is on her radar as something she is acutely interested in. Adding a dance minor now means she may be looking for a combination of those subjects that could morph into dance therapy. These ideas and interests are subject to change, but I'm just glad she's starting to focus on what she wants to do in the next chapter of her life.
And the college concerns have begun anew. While she is guaranteed a spot in Kansas, she is now taking a longer look at historically black colleges in the south. Now it's just a matter of if she will be accepted, if we can take a trip to see it, if she will like it, if the price will be astronomical because she is from out of state, if there will be any scholarships or grants available and offered to her, and if we can still afford it if there is no scholarship or grant money. But other than those minor issues (!) no worries, right?
Also, she is already talking about prom shopping. Of course she won't wear either dress from last year, and the date from last year is persona non grata (she won't even say his name), so anything associated with him is forever tainted. She is thinking about going alone, but still wants a really fancy (read: expensive) dress for her senior prom.
EB has also tried, with limited success, more outings with friends. She planned a New Year's dinner with mixed results. It was the usual nonsense from teenagers, half wouldn't commit, some came late bringing more people than planned for, and she was upset with the chaos. She still ended up with a bunch of friends to bring in the New Year, so that was a win. I reminded her that her friends were always chaotic and sketchy on details of outings and the story she told of the night actually ended up being kind of funny. Other outings haven't always been as funny; a recent attempt at a group movie date ended with everyone bailing out on her at the last minute and her ending up going to the mall and for ice cream with a friend. She won't acknowledge her own culpability in these failed plans -- group chats that half the group ignores, phones that always die, assumptions made on where and when, abrupt changes in plans and last-minute decisions to do something together in the first place. Because she now has access to a car, she forgets that others still are coming from all over the city on public transportation and have to plan accordingly.
But at least she's trying to find her footing among friends again. After nearly a year of isolation, she just has to be more patient. And forgiving.
At the end of the day, there's still her dance. EB just got fitted for her first pair of pointe shoes, a humongous step for someone who for years fought taking ballet, the foundation for being a strong professional. She's had 15 years of dance, but has really buckled down in the last few, with different studios and disciplines. Now she has six dance classes a week and helps out in a seventh. She's busy, tired, but realizing that the time for getting ready for a college dance program is growing very short indeed. I'm just happy that she isn't wasting time with people who diminish her instead of uplifting her.
This first month of the new year has been all about her introspection. Yes, she wants to spend time with friends, but her focus is no longer on parties and all the bad behavior and decisions that it led to in the past. She isn't really interested in romantic entanglements, after a few months of a flirtation with a classmate that just seemed to not get beyond the texting phase. She's been pegged to do more modeling and believes it will help her self-confidence and I believe she's absolutely right on that. Right now, she says, she's working on herself. After that long time of trying to please so many others, who turned against her, I believe she is focusing on the real person who matters. Like the man says, you can't please everyone, so you just have to please yourself.
Wednesday, November 30, 2016
Mixed bag of blessings
Thank goodness this year is almost over.
Usually, this is the time of year when I express gratitude as I prepare to reflect on another year with Earbaby. She's growing up, getting her mind ready to move out of our house and onto a new life somewhere in a galaxy, or state, far, far, away. Her last football game as a high school cheerleader was Thanksgiving morning, and although she still has one more cheer competition to go, her days in the short-skirted black, white and gold uniform are virtually over. Could it really have been three years since that all started?
She's nostalgic for these games, and this year's group of cheerleaders were actually cheerful with each other and fairly drama free. And here's my thanks: No more sitting on cold aluminum benches watching her shiver and pretty much be oblivious to the game and team she was cheering for. As a football fan, I enjoyed the games. Last year's work buyout gave me a chance to see all of this year's contests. There were plenty played in cold, drizzly rain. I won't soon miss that.
We had some good times this year and I'm grateful for the trip to Ireland we took with EB's school group, but as a family. My husband and I reconnected on our love of traveling, and EB didn't mind having her parents around, especially when she needed money.
And I was able to go home for Mother's Day, which fell on my mother's birthday. Being jobless also meant I could take off for a weekend, and it ended up being a party as my mother turned 93, surrounded by all three daughters, her favorite niece and great niece and nephews. Although she couldn't see anyone, having gone completely blind a few years ago, I could see how happy she was to have family there with her, laughing, making jokes, and catching up. I'll be back for my first Christmas home in decades. Who knows how many more Christmases we'll have with Mama? I'll be especially grateful if she is able to hear her youngest grandchild, EB, graduate from high school in the spring. Graduations are big deals in my family.
It's been a strange, sad year though. Of course there were highs, the weekend trips, the vacation and even the fun and frustrations as EB starts her college search. She has already been accepted at my Alma Mater, one of her safety schools. She commented that even if she doesn't go there, she now can relax, knowing she will be going somewhere. She's not stressing any more about not getting in to school. And even better, it's far, far away.
One sadness didn't seem sad until after it was all over. It was EB's first beau. Her first foray into the serious dating and relationship scene was too secretive, too intense, and in the end, too tragic. It ended badly, she came away with few good memories, a lot of bad ones and mountains of regrets she ever even met him. He in turn became mean, vindictive, and possibly even dangerous. Her lack of experience and his lack of maturity was a bad combination. She relied on relationship advice from friends who knew less about how to have healthy relationships than she did (the saying blind leading the blind was never truer), and is only now starting to rediscover herself and her former friends she abandoned to please him. But she also has to learn consequences of untrustworthy behavior: Once trust is lost, it can't easily be regained.
The silver lining is that all the bad decisions she made, she had to own up to them while under our roof. She found out she doesn't know as much as she thought (or pretended she did), and some bad decisions can't be undone, they just have to be overcome. It was a bad year for friendship for her. Her three closest friends violated her trust. So she also reaped what she sowed.
Losing one of my closest friends from childhood was a really dark cloud. It put the reality of my own mortality at front and center. Or maybe it also hit me at the worst time because my full year of pay came to an end, and months of sending out resumes and interviewing with employment agencies hadn't netted me a job. I was panicked and starting to sink into depression.
However, I'm ending this month thankful. Almost from right out of the sky, I found a new job, recruited, wooed, and hired by a former colleague. I'm back in the workforce, part time, but still making a decent salary. Yes, I'm back on nights, but the nights are shorter, some nights I'll be working remotely from the office of my own kitchen, and I found a new purpose with new responsibilities.
There are still challenges ahead for us. EB has to get through the rest of the school year, and make this last one count. I have to let go of my own hurt and anger over the lost months with her, and step into a new role in a new job. We all need to appreciate the time we have together, even as it gets closer to coming to an end, at least the day-to-day part of it. It feels like everything new is new again. Mixed blessings, indeed.
Usually, this is the time of year when I express gratitude as I prepare to reflect on another year with Earbaby. She's growing up, getting her mind ready to move out of our house and onto a new life somewhere in a galaxy, or state, far, far, away. Her last football game as a high school cheerleader was Thanksgiving morning, and although she still has one more cheer competition to go, her days in the short-skirted black, white and gold uniform are virtually over. Could it really have been three years since that all started?
She's nostalgic for these games, and this year's group of cheerleaders were actually cheerful with each other and fairly drama free. And here's my thanks: No more sitting on cold aluminum benches watching her shiver and pretty much be oblivious to the game and team she was cheering for. As a football fan, I enjoyed the games. Last year's work buyout gave me a chance to see all of this year's contests. There were plenty played in cold, drizzly rain. I won't soon miss that.
We had some good times this year and I'm grateful for the trip to Ireland we took with EB's school group, but as a family. My husband and I reconnected on our love of traveling, and EB didn't mind having her parents around, especially when she needed money.
And I was able to go home for Mother's Day, which fell on my mother's birthday. Being jobless also meant I could take off for a weekend, and it ended up being a party as my mother turned 93, surrounded by all three daughters, her favorite niece and great niece and nephews. Although she couldn't see anyone, having gone completely blind a few years ago, I could see how happy she was to have family there with her, laughing, making jokes, and catching up. I'll be back for my first Christmas home in decades. Who knows how many more Christmases we'll have with Mama? I'll be especially grateful if she is able to hear her youngest grandchild, EB, graduate from high school in the spring. Graduations are big deals in my family.
It's been a strange, sad year though. Of course there were highs, the weekend trips, the vacation and even the fun and frustrations as EB starts her college search. She has already been accepted at my Alma Mater, one of her safety schools. She commented that even if she doesn't go there, she now can relax, knowing she will be going somewhere. She's not stressing any more about not getting in to school. And even better, it's far, far away.
One sadness didn't seem sad until after it was all over. It was EB's first beau. Her first foray into the serious dating and relationship scene was too secretive, too intense, and in the end, too tragic. It ended badly, she came away with few good memories, a lot of bad ones and mountains of regrets she ever even met him. He in turn became mean, vindictive, and possibly even dangerous. Her lack of experience and his lack of maturity was a bad combination. She relied on relationship advice from friends who knew less about how to have healthy relationships than she did (the saying blind leading the blind was never truer), and is only now starting to rediscover herself and her former friends she abandoned to please him. But she also has to learn consequences of untrustworthy behavior: Once trust is lost, it can't easily be regained.
The silver lining is that all the bad decisions she made, she had to own up to them while under our roof. She found out she doesn't know as much as she thought (or pretended she did), and some bad decisions can't be undone, they just have to be overcome. It was a bad year for friendship for her. Her three closest friends violated her trust. So she also reaped what she sowed.
Losing one of my closest friends from childhood was a really dark cloud. It put the reality of my own mortality at front and center. Or maybe it also hit me at the worst time because my full year of pay came to an end, and months of sending out resumes and interviewing with employment agencies hadn't netted me a job. I was panicked and starting to sink into depression.
However, I'm ending this month thankful. Almost from right out of the sky, I found a new job, recruited, wooed, and hired by a former colleague. I'm back in the workforce, part time, but still making a decent salary. Yes, I'm back on nights, but the nights are shorter, some nights I'll be working remotely from the office of my own kitchen, and I found a new purpose with new responsibilities.
There are still challenges ahead for us. EB has to get through the rest of the school year, and make this last one count. I have to let go of my own hurt and anger over the lost months with her, and step into a new role in a new job. We all need to appreciate the time we have together, even as it gets closer to coming to an end, at least the day-to-day part of it. It feels like everything new is new again. Mixed blessings, indeed.
Monday, October 31, 2016
The scariest season
So we're putting a period on another month. Without a doubt October is a time where we bump into ghosts, ghouls, creatures of the night -- and the scariest part for a student in her senior year -- the college application process.
Earbaby is ready to begin the last leg of her journey of separation from the home, friends, family and community she has known her entire life.
The process won't be easy.
The first part of the separation was the breakup between EB and her ICB. It was destined to be a heartbreaker. First loves, with their too-hot, all-encompassing intensity, always are. But this one got ugly. ICB, who wanted to hold onto EB's every waking hour, even though he was two hours away in college, became too much of a burden on her sanity, her freedom, and her wellbeing. By the time it was all over ICB had become incredibly sinister, threatening, mean, and we actually thought the authorities would have to get involved. That nuclear option so far hasn't been needed, but EB was scarred and scared by the hard lessons she had to learn.
Luckily that was offset by the reintroduction to her own school friends, ones who had disappeared during the summer of needless isolation and bad choices. Going back to school was the best remedy for a broken heart. Realizing that all the people who have betrayed her in the previous year, not only ICB, but Brenda and Maria as well, made her question her own generosity and compassion. Getting back to the people who have always loved her, helps restore her faith and confidence.
It's difficult when an only child tries to share the good fortune she was born into. She shared her home, her life and her heart with people who didn't deserve it and aren't worthy. Once again, I don't want her to grow up thinking no good deed goes unpunished, so giving to others is permanently off the table. We are helping her pick up the pieces after a long broken year. She will live, love and laugh fully again. I just hope she will be more discriminating with the next person, or people she gives her heart to. I have to teach her the red flags she refused to see and let her know that walking out of bad situations is always an option.
But the uncoupling was only part of the scary season. Another part was figuring out just what EB is looking for as a college experience. We took a trip to the Midwest to visit my alma mater over the Columbus holiday weekend, and the trip came out better than expected. My old college is a Div. 1 school in a country town that is all university, all the time. A football game in a stadium of 55,000 people, a marching band of a few hundred, a goofy fight song or two, and EB, if not completely sold on being a legacy, is at least applying as one of her "safety schools." Odder still, her dad, who is quite the East Coast snob in his own way (Don't go there, you'll become a farmer, he used to say to EB), actually came away much more impressed with the school than he would have thought. One day he took a lone drive out to the prairie and was charmed by all the acres and miles of nothingness. He's a city kid who grew up with people living on top of each other.
EB acknowledges that my state U is out of her comfort zone, but is also considering that she may need to get out of her comfort zone in order to grow. She's also considering historically black colleges and universities, a school in San Francisco and yet another in Montreal. The sky's the limit, even if the money's not.
Some of her reach schools have tuition upwards of $60,000 a year. And even though we've been diligent about saving for her college fund, that's out of our reach without financial aid. And the price of doing well with two full professional salaries last year means there may be few, if any need-based scholarships or grants available. Although since we live in such an expensive state, EB could actually pay less to go out of state, even with the added cost, than she might at some of the state schools here.
In the meantime, as we try to work our way through this baffling college process, we have her school advisor and counselor trying to convince her to apply to state schools. They would like these kids to apply to 10. With the applications costing an average of $40 a pop, that's $400, much of it wasted on schools where she has no desire or intention of going. And there would be no fee waiver for us. So I told her to hold off on applying to some of these nonstarters. See where you get in first. If you find you haven't gotten accepted at a school you could see yourself at, then apply to a state safety school with an eye toward transferring after a year. It's difficult and frustrating trying to help your child figure out what her needs are when counselors are only looking at what their experiences have been, and guiding her through the lenses of their choices.
It's all scary. EB is still dancing several days a week, cheering several days a week, babysitting as a regular gig and juggling two Advanced Placement classes and one advanced math class. Oh yes, and trying to enjoy this, her last year at the school she came into at the age of 12. She goes full out almost every single day.
This scary month is over. But the chills, thrills, and spills may have just begun.
Trick or treat.
Earbaby is ready to begin the last leg of her journey of separation from the home, friends, family and community she has known her entire life.
The process won't be easy.
The first part of the separation was the breakup between EB and her ICB. It was destined to be a heartbreaker. First loves, with their too-hot, all-encompassing intensity, always are. But this one got ugly. ICB, who wanted to hold onto EB's every waking hour, even though he was two hours away in college, became too much of a burden on her sanity, her freedom, and her wellbeing. By the time it was all over ICB had become incredibly sinister, threatening, mean, and we actually thought the authorities would have to get involved. That nuclear option so far hasn't been needed, but EB was scarred and scared by the hard lessons she had to learn.
Luckily that was offset by the reintroduction to her own school friends, ones who had disappeared during the summer of needless isolation and bad choices. Going back to school was the best remedy for a broken heart. Realizing that all the people who have betrayed her in the previous year, not only ICB, but Brenda and Maria as well, made her question her own generosity and compassion. Getting back to the people who have always loved her, helps restore her faith and confidence.
It's difficult when an only child tries to share the good fortune she was born into. She shared her home, her life and her heart with people who didn't deserve it and aren't worthy. Once again, I don't want her to grow up thinking no good deed goes unpunished, so giving to others is permanently off the table. We are helping her pick up the pieces after a long broken year. She will live, love and laugh fully again. I just hope she will be more discriminating with the next person, or people she gives her heart to. I have to teach her the red flags she refused to see and let her know that walking out of bad situations is always an option.
But the uncoupling was only part of the scary season. Another part was figuring out just what EB is looking for as a college experience. We took a trip to the Midwest to visit my alma mater over the Columbus holiday weekend, and the trip came out better than expected. My old college is a Div. 1 school in a country town that is all university, all the time. A football game in a stadium of 55,000 people, a marching band of a few hundred, a goofy fight song or two, and EB, if not completely sold on being a legacy, is at least applying as one of her "safety schools." Odder still, her dad, who is quite the East Coast snob in his own way (Don't go there, you'll become a farmer, he used to say to EB), actually came away much more impressed with the school than he would have thought. One day he took a lone drive out to the prairie and was charmed by all the acres and miles of nothingness. He's a city kid who grew up with people living on top of each other.
EB acknowledges that my state U is out of her comfort zone, but is also considering that she may need to get out of her comfort zone in order to grow. She's also considering historically black colleges and universities, a school in San Francisco and yet another in Montreal. The sky's the limit, even if the money's not.
Some of her reach schools have tuition upwards of $60,000 a year. And even though we've been diligent about saving for her college fund, that's out of our reach without financial aid. And the price of doing well with two full professional salaries last year means there may be few, if any need-based scholarships or grants available. Although since we live in such an expensive state, EB could actually pay less to go out of state, even with the added cost, than she might at some of the state schools here.
In the meantime, as we try to work our way through this baffling college process, we have her school advisor and counselor trying to convince her to apply to state schools. They would like these kids to apply to 10. With the applications costing an average of $40 a pop, that's $400, much of it wasted on schools where she has no desire or intention of going. And there would be no fee waiver for us. So I told her to hold off on applying to some of these nonstarters. See where you get in first. If you find you haven't gotten accepted at a school you could see yourself at, then apply to a state safety school with an eye toward transferring after a year. It's difficult and frustrating trying to help your child figure out what her needs are when counselors are only looking at what their experiences have been, and guiding her through the lenses of their choices.
It's all scary. EB is still dancing several days a week, cheering several days a week, babysitting as a regular gig and juggling two Advanced Placement classes and one advanced math class. Oh yes, and trying to enjoy this, her last year at the school she came into at the age of 12. She goes full out almost every single day.
This scary month is over. But the chills, thrills, and spills may have just begun.
Trick or treat.
Thursday, September 29, 2016
September's sadness
This has been a tough month. And as the first month of Earbaby's senior year comes to a close, I find myself struggling -- with her, with my feelings of anxiety and depression as my nonworking but fully paid for year ends, with doubts about finding meaningful employment, and suddenly, most tragic of all, the death of one of my closest childhood friends.
As a family, we're in transition. EB is excited about her senior year, and we're preparing for her to be in another school, more than likely in another state, a year from now. The poisoning of the nest has continued, most of the damage aided and abetted by the ICB, who is off to college, but hangs on like a barnacle. The two of them are in love, but EB's dad and I don't see this ending well.
But that's another long story for another long day. Right now, my struggles are more inward.
In short, I'm really sad.
My friend Elizabeth was one of my closest friends since first grade. She was Betty then, adding an e to the end of her name in high school. We lost touch over the years after college, although I was a bridesmaid in her wedding to the man who became the father of her children. By the time we all had gotten older and wider, Bettye had started using her birth name, but every time I slipped up and called her Bettye instead of Elizabeth, she just said, "Don't worry about it."
When you lose your siblings or your childhood friends, it feels as if you've lost part of your childhood. The shared history you have with the people who knew you best is a loss like no other. And for Bettye, she and our friend Celia and I were each other's best shared history, especially in our teenage, high school years.
Back then we were The Three. If you saw only one or two of us, the inquiries started about the missing piece. We did everything together. Back before the internet, the cell phone, text messaging, facetiming, and all other social media check-ins, we had each other and the shared family telephone. Are we all wearing skirts or jeans today? Are we going to Chicken Unlimited (with the cute kid behind the counter named Kevin who used to give me extra fries) or McDonald's where our friend works and sometimes gave us extra hamburgers? Are we going to the record store where Michael Jackson's new song, Got to be There is playing as we walk into the door? How about stopping at Warner's Drugstore?
I believe to this day, those days are the reason I can never go straight home. There were so many detours we had to take to get back to where we could stand on the corner by the mailbox and talk for an hour or two, before going home to call each other on the phone for more time wasted (what the heck did we have to talk about to each other after spending all day in school together?) it's a wonder we got home and got any homework done at all.
Bettye and Celia were my rocks. I was skinny and homely, but I was a good student. I also hid my insecurity by being a little, well, cutting. But I'd like to think we all saw through each other's insecurities -- and forgave them.
We all had our roles to play. Bettye was the first to get a boyfriend, I was the last. My first boyfriend and prom date was a friend of her boyfriend. We triple dated for the senior prom, with Celia going with a boy she barely knew, but back then, no one went stag to the prom. You found a date, or you stayed home. Celia and I talked right after we learned about Bettye. She and I were feeling the same pain, the devastating loss of what we didn't know then were our good old days. We had a million dramas back then, dance drill team, chorus, football and basketball games, working in the library or boys' detention office (the bad boys were always the cutest), boys, boys, boys.
The last time the three of us were together was our 20-year high school reunion. It had been a long time since I saw them and they were the only reason I wanted to go. I was 37 then, had been out in the world for awhile, was single and no longer insecure. I remember Bettye saying surprisingly, that I had learned how to flirt.
Right after I learned about Bettye's death, I went to EB's football game to watch her cheer. I saw her squad go out on the field and do a short routine to prerecorded music. In my mind's eye I was back home, dancing with the Titanettes with Bettye and Celia, with a marching band playing live music behind us. I got nostalgic. I watched EB perform and I worried that her high school experience won't be as innocent and carefree as mine. Relationships are more heightened, parties are more intense, and some of her personal choices may come back to hurt her and there's nothing at this point that I can do. And although EB has friends, she has cooled with her closest girlfriends and may not have the strong support system I was lucky to have with Bettye and Celia.
My friends and I connect only sporadically now. I get Christmas cards occasionally from Celia, Bettye and I talked even less frequently on Facebook. She had been ill for awhile, but her last post showed she was getting better. The post of her death from her sister was a knife to my heart.
I will be heading home to see my friend off. I will see her in my mind's eye in her Titanette uniform (hers was red, Celia's and mine were green), in our Treble Choir long black skirts and sleeveless white blouses, in her prom dress, her wedding gown and the outfits we wore for our high school reunion when we weren't yet 40, so still considered ourselves young enough to go clubbing. So we did.
None of us know how long we have here. But my faith tells me this is not the only plane on which we exist. I'll see you again Bettye. I'll miss you but you'll always live in my heart.
As a family, we're in transition. EB is excited about her senior year, and we're preparing for her to be in another school, more than likely in another state, a year from now. The poisoning of the nest has continued, most of the damage aided and abetted by the ICB, who is off to college, but hangs on like a barnacle. The two of them are in love, but EB's dad and I don't see this ending well.
But that's another long story for another long day. Right now, my struggles are more inward.
In short, I'm really sad.
My friend Elizabeth was one of my closest friends since first grade. She was Betty then, adding an e to the end of her name in high school. We lost touch over the years after college, although I was a bridesmaid in her wedding to the man who became the father of her children. By the time we all had gotten older and wider, Bettye had started using her birth name, but every time I slipped up and called her Bettye instead of Elizabeth, she just said, "Don't worry about it."
When you lose your siblings or your childhood friends, it feels as if you've lost part of your childhood. The shared history you have with the people who knew you best is a loss like no other. And for Bettye, she and our friend Celia and I were each other's best shared history, especially in our teenage, high school years.
Back then we were The Three. If you saw only one or two of us, the inquiries started about the missing piece. We did everything together. Back before the internet, the cell phone, text messaging, facetiming, and all other social media check-ins, we had each other and the shared family telephone. Are we all wearing skirts or jeans today? Are we going to Chicken Unlimited (with the cute kid behind the counter named Kevin who used to give me extra fries) or McDonald's where our friend works and sometimes gave us extra hamburgers? Are we going to the record store where Michael Jackson's new song, Got to be There is playing as we walk into the door? How about stopping at Warner's Drugstore?
I believe to this day, those days are the reason I can never go straight home. There were so many detours we had to take to get back to where we could stand on the corner by the mailbox and talk for an hour or two, before going home to call each other on the phone for more time wasted (what the heck did we have to talk about to each other after spending all day in school together?) it's a wonder we got home and got any homework done at all.
Bettye and Celia were my rocks. I was skinny and homely, but I was a good student. I also hid my insecurity by being a little, well, cutting. But I'd like to think we all saw through each other's insecurities -- and forgave them.
We all had our roles to play. Bettye was the first to get a boyfriend, I was the last. My first boyfriend and prom date was a friend of her boyfriend. We triple dated for the senior prom, with Celia going with a boy she barely knew, but back then, no one went stag to the prom. You found a date, or you stayed home. Celia and I talked right after we learned about Bettye. She and I were feeling the same pain, the devastating loss of what we didn't know then were our good old days. We had a million dramas back then, dance drill team, chorus, football and basketball games, working in the library or boys' detention office (the bad boys were always the cutest), boys, boys, boys.
The last time the three of us were together was our 20-year high school reunion. It had been a long time since I saw them and they were the only reason I wanted to go. I was 37 then, had been out in the world for awhile, was single and no longer insecure. I remember Bettye saying surprisingly, that I had learned how to flirt.
Right after I learned about Bettye's death, I went to EB's football game to watch her cheer. I saw her squad go out on the field and do a short routine to prerecorded music. In my mind's eye I was back home, dancing with the Titanettes with Bettye and Celia, with a marching band playing live music behind us. I got nostalgic. I watched EB perform and I worried that her high school experience won't be as innocent and carefree as mine. Relationships are more heightened, parties are more intense, and some of her personal choices may come back to hurt her and there's nothing at this point that I can do. And although EB has friends, she has cooled with her closest girlfriends and may not have the strong support system I was lucky to have with Bettye and Celia.
My friends and I connect only sporadically now. I get Christmas cards occasionally from Celia, Bettye and I talked even less frequently on Facebook. She had been ill for awhile, but her last post showed she was getting better. The post of her death from her sister was a knife to my heart.
I will be heading home to see my friend off. I will see her in my mind's eye in her Titanette uniform (hers was red, Celia's and mine were green), in our Treble Choir long black skirts and sleeveless white blouses, in her prom dress, her wedding gown and the outfits we wore for our high school reunion when we weren't yet 40, so still considered ourselves young enough to go clubbing. So we did.
None of us know how long we have here. But my faith tells me this is not the only plane on which we exist. I'll see you again Bettye. I'll miss you but you'll always live in my heart.
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