Summer (whirl) winds

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.

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.

Cheers, fears, tears, and the decision

In my idyllic scenario, this is how Earbaby chooses her college: We visit the last three of the four colleges where she's been accepted. She either likes one or two more, or maybe even all three, with all their relative merits. She, along with her dad and I, thoughtfully weigh the pros and cons of each school, taking into account the way they woo her with scholarship and/or grant offers, the opportunities in her particular fields of study (psychology with a strong dance minor) and how they will work to meld those two interests. Knowing that wherever she will choose, it will be far, far away, we then come to a loving consensus that will make us all satisfied, with a little melancholy.

It didn't work out that way.

We (her dad and I) pulled a bait and switch. It wasn't intentional, and I regret the way the decision-making process played out. We're all in accord now, but not with the beatific smiles all around that I pictured in my college decision fantasy.

So here it is: EB didn't know if she would be celebrating being a Bear, Panther, Tiger or Wildcat. Four acceptances meant she would have to make a tough choice, especially if she loved all four, and could see herself on all four campuses. After a day at Morgan State, in which there was a rah-rah open house, replete with tours, marching band, all kinds of bells and whistles, EB decided that the student body of 8,000 in this historically black college/university wasn't the right fit for her. It was nice, but she wasn't feeling it. Cross the Ursine off the list of mascots. Her decision was now down to three felines.

EB had already visited my alma mater in October, applied when we returned, was readily accepted, and given an incredibly generous heritage scholarship. So the money was a major factor. Her dad and I figured it would come down to one of the predominantly white institutions she got into. EB is coming from an incredibly diverse high school after being one of less than a handful of children of color in private elementary school. Good academic education aside, she wasn't happy about going back to feeling like an "other."

Next on our list was another HBCU, even smaller than Morgan State. But EB has a friend at Clark Atlanta, who gave us a tour. EB (and her parents) liked it more than we thought we would, EB liked the vibe of the southern campus, found a positive in the fact that it was in Atlanta, because she despaired of not being near a big city. But there is precious little scholarship or grant money for people in our income bracket (although we're hardly in rich people category, we do only have one child and two incomes). So we're outside of consideration for money at either HBCU. Because we're from out of state, we would be paying full price, so that others wouldn't have to. Although Clark Atlanta had much charm, its facilities were limited, so she wouldn't get what she was paying for. So we had to take the Panthers off the list.

Her dad and I always figured it would come down to one of the large PWIs. Louisiana State had been on EB's list since a college fair a year ago, and then a friend went for a semester. She ended up returning to the Bay State after a semester because of the price tag, but urged Earbaby to go there because it was so great, so much fun, and the people were so nice. So would it be SEC or Big 12?

Well, we visited for their big kickoff weekend. EB was given a badge that stated she was LSU bound, showing she was already accepted, a personalized schedule, which was essentially one visit for a talk in a classroom with a psychology teacher who had only been there two years, and a whole lot of rah-rah places you could go on your extensive free time. The kickoff actually seemed more geared toward the large number of juniors who were looking for a school to apply to than to the students who had already gotten in. There was talk about financial aid and scholarships that didn't apply to her. A couple of promises of one-on-one sessions with financial aid and someone in the dance/theater department didn't come through (EB was given a phone number to call to talk to someone about dance on the following Monday, because apparently only one person in the entire university could speak to a prospective student and they had no idea where she was). At the end of the day, EB's dad just said, "they didn't blow me away."

For EB though, she didn't see the dismissiveness, the lack of personal attention, the casual quick reference to the celebration of "plantation days" (though that made all three of us cringe), as negatives. She didn't want to follow in my footsteps. She was ready to Geaux Tigers, even at $40,000-plus a year. But she also liked the vibe, and it was more diverse than Kansas State. She couldn't quantify why she loved it, only that she could picture herself going there.

We couldn't. But after looking at the numbers, had we really believed she could thrive there and not get lost in the impersonal nature of it all, we would have tried to make it work. At my state U, I wanted her to go for several reasons, including the award she was given which would put the numbers she was paying closer to instate. When they really want you, you don't pay full price. When they don't care, your full price pays so the ones they really want don't have to. We couldn't make her see that.

I decided I would back off until we had time to talk about it as a family, weighing the real pros and cons of culture, diversity, opportunity, and of course, money. College is a business first and foremost. We wanted her to see that the school that was willing to make an investment in her, that kept wooing her, checking up on her, was probably going to be best for her. My sister said, you go with the boyfriend who treats you best. EB was enamored with the one who ignored her.

My husband said he would talk to her. And that's where we both blew it. Instead of us all sitting down, he just told her she was going to Kansas State, and that was that. She cried all night, didn't go to school the next day, she and I talked, then the three of us talked. We apologized for the ham-fisted way of coming to the decision we had told her she would be able to make. But she wasn't able to see the forest for the trees. I did tell her that if she absolutely hated K-State after one year, she could transfer, a gamble I'm willing to make, but a promise I will absolutely keep. She decided she could go to LSU for graduate school. At least this way there will be money for graduate school. And who knows what she will want a year, or four, from now?

Gradually, she is warming to the idea of the Little Apple (the nickname for Manhattan, Kansas). I started warming to it even more when I went through the paperwork and saw the president of the university had sent her a letter way back when, welcoming her to KSU (Where was yours, LSU? One measly folder, two emails, then crickets). Once we signed up for orientation, she started getting more excited.

Yes, we handled it badly. I hope she will forgive us that. But we think this will be a place where she can make her own path, and if not, she will be able to find a new one. It was a bloody battle to get to this point. I hope it will make us all stronger. In the meantime, Go Wildcats.
And you'd better take damn good care of my Earbaby.

Wildcats or Tigers or Bears? Oh my!

We're roughly a month from Decision Day. And Earbaby is going to visit three more places before coming to terms with being a Kansas State Wildcat, a Tiger from Louisiana State, or a Morgan State Bear. Or, to make it even tougher, another acceptance packet means she could also choose to become a Black Panther from Clark University in Atlanta. Oh my, indeed.

EB went from relaxing after her first, early acceptance to K-State (at least now I know I'm going to college) to bemoaning the fact that she only had the one choice after a couple of rejections from places she actually hadn't planned on going anyway, to anxiety about having more choices after all. She hasn't heard from her first choice, which only recently became her first choice. And she's already soured on it anyway, having read a few negative reviews on the facilities at this "prestigious" HBCU. Not to say she won't reconsider it should she wake up to a yay instead of the expected nay tomorrow. The school was put into her head by a casual acquaintance who said she looked like she would be a good fit. She started to fixate on it, then became depressed when she hadn't heard from them, even though she was told they make their decisions on April 1. No matter. Our trip is booked, and should she get in, it's an easy detour.

In the meantime, she's taking note of who is wooing her, and how much. K-State has already offered her money. She will have to lobby to get anything from the other three candidates. She vacillates between wanting to get out of her comfort zone of city folks and ways and visit the country mice for four years, and worrying that she will be bored within a month in the country/college town and would find a southern city more to her liking. It's a tough choice, and no matter how many times I've told her that she doesn't have to stay a full four years to a place she doesn't like, she thinks transferring would mean she's wasted time and money. And she will have made bonds and established friendships that freshman year.

I don't know how to help her. She has been heavily wooed by my alma mater, which is also the farthest away. The closest one, in Baltimore, is still a nine-hour drive, and we are planning a day trip to check out their campus and see what they have to offer. I'm listening to her weigh pros and cons of each of these schools, but I know her decision will ultimately be her own. Still, she knows some of it will come down to dollars and cents. Most of the school tuitions are $40,000 a year. While it is doable, it wouldn't leave her much money for grad school, should she find herself needing even higher education. And that doesn't count unforeseen expenses or trips home for the holidays.

I am proud that she has decided to take her teachers' advice and continue to buckle down on schoolwork. All college acceptances are provisional. I told her the horror story a close friend shared with me of her nephew who slacked off after getting accepted, didn't graduate because of it, and found himself without a college to go to. The teachers have told these kids that they must continue to work for the rest of their shortened senior year. Senior-itis is a thing, but it's not a good thing.

EB's dad and I are also going through an adjustment period. We're readying ourselves for the empty nest. With my return to the workforce (nights again, no less), it will be interesting to see how we navigate the ships passing in the night routine we had for most of our marriage. Luckily my nights aren't as late, and I can work from home a few nights a week. But what worked for us because of childcare may play differently when there is no longer a child in the house. He's already getting nostalgic and a little melancholy. I don't know what I am.

When I left my job in 2015, the hardest part was the loss of identity. I had been in newspapers in one form or another since I was 15. Who was I if I couldn't say what I did for a living? When I got another job after a year off, it was like returning to myself. I was a person again, I did something with myself.

But now I'm losing another identity. Yes, I will always be a mother, but now I'm a parent to an adult (well, legally, anyway). When she goes away, my day-to-day work is over. I will go days without talking to her, months without seeing her. She will be making her own decisions. And the first one has to be just where she will continue to grow and learn. Take a deep breath Earbaby, it's almost time to hit the yellow brick road.

Goodbye 2016! (And good riddance!)

I will never be so happy to put a period on a year as I am this one.
As I await the final hours of 2016, it is taking all I have to try and focus on the good things that came out of this year with Earbaby. There was plenty of anger and disappointment in some of her behavior and choices, and no vindication by her regrets and remorse. Still, there were some good things too. And as we enter the last five months of her high school years, I'm hoping the hardest lessons learned won't be forgotten.

The good things though: A year ago I had ended my job after 27 years and was looking forward with trepidation and sadness about what would come next in my personal next chapter. I had at this point, about 10 months fully paid, to decide when I would return to work. I had given up my career, and a big part of my identity. We got to travel to Ireland and Scotland as a family, a major positive. For the first time my husband and I could go out to a movie, or a football game, or just to dinner without having to plan three or four weeks in advance. The freedom was wonderful, having it fully financed helped. But I won't lie, I missed my friends at work, I missed having a purpose, and I refused to celebrate "retirement." I wasn't ready to stop working forever.

But this also gave me an opportunity to fly home for Mother's Day and my own mother's 93rd birthday. Had I been working, I would have had to arrange things so that I didn't miss too many days at work, especially had they stuck to the new schedule I had been given of having to work all weekend. When your schedule is your own, you can get the best fares for the best price, come home rested and not worry you have to drop your bags and rush off to work. You can take your dog for evening walks, go to the YMCA to work out, arrange to take yourself out to breakfast, and dance a few mornings a week without being exhausted from a late night shift. And yet, there was also that underlying anxiety of "am I ever going to work again?"

Earbaby also had a tough year. Her first boyfriend experience ended up more toxic and sour and regrettable than any of us would have imagined. She became a person she didn't want to be (but truthfully, some of her actions started before the boyfriend came into her life), decided to take advice and guidance from friends even less mature than herself, and blew up her family because she rationalized that she was "in love." They no longer speak, and if there is any good that comes from this, it will be the lesson learned that you don't lose yourself in another person, especially one who is emotionally unstable, manipulative and abusive. I hope with all my heart that this year of hard lessons will never be unlearned. I pray she will now recognize the red flags of bad and controlling people, something some of us didn't learn until we were many, many years older. She has listened finally to my advice about being with people who make you want to be your best self --not your worst. I pray she remembers that lesson when she gets to college. There could be even more snakes and sharks out there. Having dealt with one, I hope she will immediately see the signs and walk away.

The recovery from all this has been a reintroduction to just being a teenager in high school. Her friends are back, she has a social life of more than one person now, she is working to regain the trust that was lost during the lying, secrecy, sneaking around phase of her life, and she's trying to enjoy the rest of her senior year. She's also trying to narrow down the choices she has to go to college. My alma mater has not only accepted her, but has volunteered to throw a ton of money her way. That's tempting, and she liked it, but she still has a few more irons in the fire and is waiting to see if she gets in somewhere else. It's still has to be her college experience, and I've told her that she only has to take one step at a time. If she picks some place and it turns out not to be a good fit, well, she doesn't have to suffer through it for four years. That sounds scandalous, but in today's world, no one should expect to make decisions on the rest of her life at the age of 18. But that first acceptance letter assures her (and us) that she is college bound.

EB getting her driver's license has also been a huge highlight. She is confident and careful and driving herself places frees me up. She hasn't asked us to buy her a car, or even to take over her dad's. She is practical -- she will be going away to school in about eight months, and no college encourages freshmen to bring their cars. Plus, she will be going several states away, no matter where she lands, and that complicates things on many levels. Right now she's just content to take it when she can and has even been able to take one car or another to school. The downside is that she can't drive any of her friends for the first six months. But that can be an upside too. Fewer people mean fewer distractions.

This election year has been the biggest disappointment in the year I would love to be able to take back. The hatred and bigotry exposed in the presidential election has left many of us in despair. I even encouraged EB to apply for college in Canada and Ireland. She may not go either place if she gets in, but in a country that is increasingly hostile to anyone who isn't a straight white person, especially white male, it's difficult not to believe that all hope is lost and too many of our fellow citizens are devoid of common decency.

Still, I'm trying to end this year on a positive note. I've got a new job, new purpose and a new lease on my career. I am looking at my new challenges as a chance to make a difference at a smaller venue. I'm in a place where I'm respected for my knowledge and experience and I'm feeling that sense of purpose that I haven't felt for many years. With the added benefit of setting my hours so I may occasionally work from home, it's easier to go back to the night work I didn't want. The nights aren't as long, and the anxiety level isn't as high, and yet, I feel like my work matters.

This Christmas season also made the year end on a high note. I went home for the first time in decades. This time of year had stopped being as much fun, obviously as EB grew up and stopped believing in the magic of Santa Claus. But it also stopped being fun when we stopped hosting. So this year, with one of my nieces giving birth to the first of the next generation and Zoe in from South Korea for a few weeks, we decided this was the year to go. Also, I had a milestone birthday and my husband arranged a great family party at a restaurant to celebrate. It was a Christmas to remember, and despite the stress of travel, well worth the trip.

This year has had a lion's share of low valleys with those high peaks. Sometimes those lows made me forget about the peaks. I was distressed for so much of it, but things are looking up. Finally. We've got one more bumpy year to go with Earbaby. It won't be smooth sailing. This year didn't kill any of us. It only made us (and especially her) stronger. And so it begins again.

Hold onto your hats. And Happy New Year.

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.

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.

Disappearing acts?

As we head into the final full month of summer, I'm struck by how different things are this year from last. Not working has changed so many perspectives both for Earbaby and me. For one, I've become a full-time chauffeur, and that fall weekend where EB pleaded with me to take the company's buyout so we could have more time together is a long-gone memory. It was great in concept, but it was also before the Incredibly Cute Boyfriend became such an integral part of her social life.

So it will be as interesting in the month ahead as it has been in the previous one to see how EB's relationship plays out with ICB. Can we say separation anxiety?

It all started with the end of school. Our little family unit of three, EB, her dad and I, took a trip to Ireland and Scotland with her school group. It actually was EB's idea a couple of years ago, after her foray into Paris and Rome. The teacher who leads these EF Tours is amazing and EB had such a great, fun and safe time on the last trip, we figured we could go as a family to at least her dad's "homeland." (At least kind of, his family is from the other side of the island.) We went to Dublin, Belfast, and Edinburgh, Scotland. And although her dad and I were on the same trip, we didn't try to cramp her style. She always roomed with her friends and most times hung out with them. A few times she wandered over to spend some time with us, but we didn't want to spend time "parenting" her. She had done just fine without us in Paris and Rome two years ago; she didn't need us checking up to see if she was eating her vegetables and getting enough sleep.

The only hiccup in the trip was EB's burying her head in her phone, staying in touch with friends (especially ICB) every day despite the time difference. We had an international plan for emergencies, but EB assured us she was only using WiFi to communicate. Well, we all found out differently when the bill came a couple of weeks after we got back. There is no WiFi chatting or Face timing on our model of phone, and the international minutes bill came up to more than $1,300! After her dad hit the roof and left the bill for me to see, I took a closer look. Turned out the international plan hadn't been implemented, so a call to the carrier revealed the error and almost $1,000 was taken off. Problem solved, but I still made them both say out loud, that yes, I am a Queen.

But it also showed the intensity of the relationship. It doesn't seem dangerous, manipulative, or coercive. But she had to see him the day we came home. We got in July 4th and she must have been jet lagged. And it was like that practically every day, except when she went to a concert with a girlfriend. Then he and his mom went on vacation. They hung out every day after work before he went, even the night before, despite his early morning flight. Exasperated, I told her she had to come home, he was going on vacation for a week, not off to war!

And yes, they were communicating every day while he and his mom were in London and Paris and she and I picked them up from the airport (we live very close by) when they returned. I am trying to be sensitive to the fact that he is getting ready to go away to college and their lives will change quite a bit in another month. I know I can't shield either of them from what might inevitably end in heartbreak, but I would like to see more of an expansion in their friendship base. When she stays out later than she says she will (1 or 2 a.m. is unacceptable even in the summer), she comes home with a pissy attitude. When she does go out with others, or when he spends time with his friends, she is more open and less defensive and sullen about coming home at a decent time.

And there is the hiding. Before ICB, she would have friends, both male and female come over to the house. It wasn't unusual for her to ask if friends could sleep over. But that was also before her irreparable falling out with both Brenda and Maria. She has a new BFF in a lovely girl, Charisse, so I'm not too worried about the full isolation. EB tells me she doesn't bring ICB around (and even he wants to get to know us a little better) because her dad is too corny and tries too hard, and she thinks I might "bother them" with snacks or whatever. I think it's because she is embarrassed and self conscious about just how much she cares about him. Am I worried that this relationship includes risky behaviors like drugs, alcohol or (gasp!) sex? Honestly, I don't know. EB knows all the dangers and consequences and I have to at this point trust her to make intelligent choices. If she makes all the wrong choices, well, those will be hard lessons learned.

No matter. I would have liked us to spend more time together before I find another job. This summer has been a waste in that department and I have sometimes wished I had ignored those pleas to spend more time as a family and just kept working. I actually do acknowledge the intensity of first love and I even understand she needs to detach from us. As we start our college search season, I'm preparing myself for her exit from the nest. I just wish she didn't feel the need to poison it first.

Lessons learned and silver linings

Summer's in, school's out and Earbaby is officially a Rising Senior.

Wow, where did junior year go?

I know time has moved the same rate as always, but it really seems that this, EB's penultimate high school year, just flew by. Maybe it was because I was able to be somewhat more present for it since I took the buyout from my job in October. Or because we only had a couple of big snows this winter after the hellish storms of early 2015. When I could be truly grateful I didn't have to venture out into the raging snowstorms, it didn't happen. But I was still grateful I could stay in those few cold nights I would have had to worry about scraping ice off my windshield and trying to charge up a partially shoveled driveway in the middle of the night.

I never could have predicted how the last four months of the school season would go. Having another teenager in the house changed so many dynamics. Sadly, it didn't end well. But thankfully, it did end.

And that's where a few of our best lessons were learned.

I'm hoping that the trials and tribulations of living with Maria won't sour EB on having a big and generous heart. She invited her friend into our home because EB is a child who has never known want. But when you pair someone who has only had stability with someone who hasn't had much at all, the results can be disastrous. Maria was a sweet girl. But she lacked the ability to grasp basic hygiene, both personal and in her surroundings. When one can come into a house and turn a small living space into your most disgusting episode of Hoarders, all the talking and understanding in the world isn't going to help. An agreement, a very small effort toward appeasement, and a day or so later, it was back to intervention time. It got exhausting, exasperating, disgusting, and eventually simply unworkable. When EB finally blew up, the tension in the house could be cut with a knife. Maria and EB had drama from a multitude of things, but even though Maria sincerely tried to repair the damage of that fallout, EB couldn't get past her disgust with the living situation.

Maria had only planned to stay until the end of the school year, so that at least worked out. Still her propensity for lashing out, her terrible judgment, irresponsibility, and poor impulse control showed us all what her true colors are. EB was just too angry to try to work things out with her. They will never be friends again.

By the time Maria came late at night to get her things, EB wouldn't even look at her or say goodbye. The room had to be thoroughly cleaned and she left many of her things to be thrown out. It was a sad sight as she and a friend struggled with two backpacks and a dufflebag to get up the street to catch a bus to a sibling's house. But she didn't want any more help from us. I had been angry too, but I'm a mom first. So when I hugged her goodbye, I whispered that if she ever really needed me, I would be there for her. No one, not even messed-up, emotionally immature teenagers who bite the hands that feed them, should go through life without at least one lifeboat.

I hope that EB doesn't learn the cynical lesson that no good deed goes unpunished. I don't want this episode to sour her on reaching out to people in need. And the silver lining is that when she does go to college in a little more than a year from now, she will be more familiar with the art of conflict resolution, instead of waiting until she just can't stand it anymore. By then I hope her own emotional maturity (and ability for forgiveness) will be better developed.

And I got a silver lining lesson also. One can try really hard, but there's only so much you can do when someone isn't ready, willing or able to receive your help. We were very clear about the rules about cleaning up after yourself and keeping her room clean. But I learned there are some people who truly lack the capacity to either understand what that means or have no self-awareness of how to live with other people. Would I do it again? My heart says yes, my head (and my daughter) say no.

We're also learning lessons about EB's growing independence. She and her incredibly cute boyfriend are still an item, but she still manages to spend time with other friends. With Maria in the house, EB spent as much time as she could outside of it. It bothered me tremendously that she didn't feel comfortable bringing him around because of Maria. With her gone, let's see if that changes things much. There will be separations soon, we'll be going on a vacation and he will be going away to college in the fall. I worry a little about hearts broken, but that will be a lesson learned too. If they can remain friends, or at least friendly after a fashion, this will be a good experience for her.

Then there's the lesson of driving. EB is determined to get her license in the coming months. That would be a boon for all of us, especially when (and if) I find another job. I'm not ready to retire, but while I look for the next opportunity, it will be nice not to have to factor in all her comings and goings and how I have to be responsible for that.

The warm weather beckons. The summer promises dance lessons, driving lessons, trips and college tours. No matter what the future holds, as a family, we're all good.

Prom! (Chapter One)

Well, the first prom of Earbaby's year is over and done with. On reflection, she says that it was just "OK." But it was such an undertaking, just getting this first one in the books.

Dress shopping for this one actually ended quite painlessly. After trying on and rejecting countless dresses with prices ranging from $200-$600, we finally found one for only $30. It was almost identical to one she tried on that cost $440, so I was thrilled. She settled on this one because "this is only junior prom. I will wait and go all out next year." I wonder who she thinks is going to pay for all that.

But prom, even junior prom, is an all-day affair. She convinced me that the teachers were OK with her being signed out of school early, to keep hair and makeup appointments. Besides she only had a couple of quizzes and she promised to make up anything she missed in her last two classes. She was more excited than she let on.

And of course this was a double dose of prom for me. Maria, even though she currently is going to a different school, was still going to the prom with a former classmate. After back and forth negotiations on the renting of a dress from a former schoolmate, she decided to go in on a party bus which was going to be departing from another friend's house. I found myself driving all over the city the day before, shopping for strapless bras and clutch bags at the last minute, figuring out how to get Maria's dress to the house where she was going to be getting ready at the following day, and trying to figure out all the logistics of the following day's activities. There was less stress and turmoil on my wedding day -- and I had my whole family coming in from out of town.

EB planned on having her makeup done after getting her hair done (both projects cost several times more than the dress, so you pay and pay no matter what). After we got back home from school, raced out to pick up lunch on our way to appointment No. 1, she started to get a little anxious. We were on time though, the hair got finished early and even though we were far south of the city, we were early for the makeup appointment north of the city.

Our plans for actually getting things done early fell apart when she couldn't get in any earlier than her appointment and the makeup artist took more than an hour. EB finally got the false eyelashes she fought me about for her sweet 16 party last year. She hated them. Said they made her eyes feel heavy. Even though they did look good and she kept them if she wants to wear them again, they weren't what she expected. Sometimes, Dorothy, you have to learn it for yourself.

Now let me say one thing. Sometimes you have to bite your tongue. I wasn't especially crazy about the makeup job that was done, but EB wanted very dramatic eyes, which added up to a lot of eye makeup, including false lashes and heavy eyebrows. With her delicate features, I thought it was a tad overdone, but she did look beautiful, so I didn't criticize. This was her prom after all, and I remember how hurt I felt when my mother criticized the turquoise nail polish I wanted to wear on my toes to match my prom dress. She told me it made my feet look dirty (it did). The fact that I could remember how badly I felt more than 45 years later kept me from saying anything to make her feel less than gorgeous. Even if in later years she'll look at herself and wonder why she wore such heavy makeup, she'll also know that she wanted to look and feel that way that day.

And worst of all, we only managed a couple of shots with her and the incredibly cute boyfriend, before she, cold and exasperated by the mere presence of her parents with cameras, decided they really had to go! For all those parents whose children patiently allowed them to take picture after picture to commemorate more separation of your money, I envy you. EB barely stuck around long enough to snatch a $20 from her father's hand before she was off and running.

So it was a little disappointing that she said the food wasn't great (pizza and chicken nuggets, what are we five?), the dance floor was small, there was no professional photographer and although other people were taking pictures, she didn't get any more. Then she went to bed, slept until the crack of noon and got ready to go out and later meet up for another friend's birthday party. I felt a little better when Maria came home and raved about how much fun she had. At least it wasn't a total washout for both teens in this house.

Well, it could be worse. I could have to go through this all over again with Earbaby next month. Oh wait. I do.

Hiccups and (not ready for) Prom Time

As March goes out like an roaring lamb, or perhaps a docile lion, the first month as (kind of) parents of two teenage girls goes into the books. It's definitely different from being the parents of one.

When your second "child" arrives already at the legal adult age of 18, figuring out your role is interesting -- and fluid.

Maria is legally an adult, but because she is still a junior in high school, the same grade as Earbaby, it's tough to tell how involved in her life we're going to get, or even how comfortable any of us are in the process.

The first part was the basic rules of the road. Clean up after yourself. Keep us in the loop, so we know when to expect you. That was the start, but as the month wore on, more rules had to be established. Like, don't borrow things without asking (this request after a blowout with EB) and, once again (as trash and food piled up in her small living space), clean up after yourself.

It hasn't all been roses. But there are no regrets here. I explained after week three -- when EB, exasperated, frustrated and angry, stopped speaking to her friend, and I told Maria in no uncertain terms, her room was disgusting and she had to clean it immediately -- that the honeymoon period was over, and now the real work begins. See, we are a family of four now. We're allowed to get mad at each other, but we talk it out. There are no ultimatums, no threats of being tossed out. This is her home now, and she's living in a family situation where we are all accountable to each other.

Maria still has family in town and is close to her older sister. And we can't put restrictions or curfews on her comings and goings, nor do we want to. What does this unusual situation boil down to? Respect the space, the home, and the people you're living with. Legally she's an adult. But she's still a teenager. The hiccups of pseudo-parenthood will come and go until we figure it all out. In the meantime, EB has the sibling experience she used to long for. Which means sometimes it will be good and other times they will just get on each other's nerves. You can say "get out of my room" but you can't say "get out of my house." Just like in everyone else's family.

So with this new sibling dynamic in mind, we start preparing for prom season. Luckily Maria is financially independent enough to pay for her own dress. Unluckily for me, EB is going to two proms. And because she is going with the same date, that means two different dresses. Also unluckily for me, I'm expected to spring for the cost of both these frocks, although I'm not sure who made this rule.

A couple of weekends back, we three ladies decided to go prom dress shopping. This actually is fun, for those who enjoy root canals or any sort of surgical procedure sans anesthesia. In other words, Yikes!

While I realize it's been well over 40 years since my own prom (when my friend's mom made a beautiful dress for me, her daughter and our other best friend), but when did a prom dress start costing more than my car payment? Thankfully I warned EB that we weren't buying that day, just looking. The dress shop was prom heaven (or hell, if you're the mom with the checkbook). The dresses EB tried on looked fabulous. The price tags were all upwards of $400, and deposits were nonrefundable. When EB saw the two dresses she liked would have cost almost as much as what our mortgage payment used to be, even she balked (thank goodness too, this kid always sees mom as an ATM with infinite reserves). Maria didn't find anything she liked. Happily, the dress she really wanted, one a former upperclassman wore a year ago, was made available for her to rent for $150. She tried it on a week later and it fit like a glove. One dress down, two to go.

This weekend EB and I will scout out a couple of other places (including bridal shops for clearance items and secondhand stores along with a department store or two) to try and find something beautiful that doesn't cost the same as the food budget for a small country. These dresses can only be worn once, remember. Twice if she stays the same size and attends a formal affair in college in two or three years.

So we march on. Hiccups, prom, growing pains all ahead. Along with SAT and ACT prep, a third grading term and the beginning of the college panic season. Sigh. Some days I feel as if I should quote Dory from Finding Nemo, "Just keep swimming, just keep swimming."

Shortest, warmest, coldest, and a sister act

It's Leap Day and Earbaby turns 17 tomorrow. A year and a day ago, she was celebrating at her Sweet 16 party. A year later, she remembers she was so stressed she couldn't have a good time. She thought she would enjoy being the center of attention. She found out that she didn't. So this year she didn't want anything. Seventeen isn't special she says, and her birthday falls on a school night anyway. The boyfriend has told her he wants to take her out for her birthday, so for the first time, we won't even be a part of her Big Day. No cake, special dessert, or us. Oh well.

We're adjusting. Not to being shunned on her birthday, we have a big surprise for her anyway. But February brought us the coldest days of the year (below 0 degrees), the warmest days of the year (60 degrees), and a new addition to our family.

EB has managed to kinda, sorta gain a sibling.

Her friend, Maria, is from another country originally, but has been in this one since second grade. She came to EB's school as a Beezee, the name given to the kids who come into the school in the ninth grade instead of in the seventh (those are called Sixies, for the six years they will be there). They became friends, but not necessarily really close, until recently. Maria's living situation recently took a drastic turn. She had been living in an apartment with an older sister and two other people. But when the landlord decided to move the two others (who were the only ones on the lease) into a smaller space, Maria's sister took the opportunity to move into her college's dorm. That left Maria without a place to stay.

EB asked if she could live with us. Now, as someone who would gladly change places with the nursery rhyme mother who lived in a shoe with countless offspring, I had no problem saying yes. And her dad said yes too. That part actually surprised me a little. He is a lot more introverted, private, and slower to change than I am. But he and I both agreed on this one. Although she is already 18, because she came from another country, she is a just a junior. Still she worked to pay for a room, her own food, cellphone, and incidentals, all while going to a tough school full time. EB's dad and I were on the same page -- it just shouldn't be this hard to get through high school.

So she's living with us, she says, at least until the end of the school year. She plans on returning to her native country in the summer to visit her mother who still lives there. Then next school year, she'll figure out her living situation again.

It's only been a couple of days, but the whole month has been leading up to this adjustment. For all of us.

Now EB even acknowledges that she is spoiled. She's always been the only child, a princess who pretty much gets all of her needs met, and a fair amount of her wants. But with that, she also showed her generosity by wanting to open up her home to a friend. Yes, she's entitled and ungrateful plenty of times. Still, she also has enough friends who have troubled family lives to appreciate the life she has -- when she's not taking for granted the fact that a late night call will always, always guarantee a safe ride home. We may come mad, but we always come. She's never had to worry about paying her bills, staying in a place where the roommates and/or their visitors are sketchy, or if she will make enough money for food and rent. It's not been on her radar until now.

And Maria is mature. She immediately started looking for jobs in our neighborhood so she won't have to travel so far after school for work. She asked how much we wanted for rent, said she could help pay for groceries. We appreciate her sense of responsibility and know that it will rub off on EB, who already is grateful now that she's back babysitting and earning her own money. I was pleased the day she decided to turn down a chance to go out with friends when she was asked last minute to babysit. Because most of her friends also work part time, she is starting to feel the pull of financial independence.

There may be bumps in the road ahead. The family dynamic has changed. Maria is thus far a little reticent, not wanting to intrude or make waves. But she's grateful and sweet, and just the kind of sibling EB needs. Their relationship is not volatile like the one EB has had with her best friend Brenda, with whom she clashed after EB's boyfriend came into the picture. Those two are slowly becoming friends again, but EB doesn't feel the same and thinks she never will. With Maria, there is an easier flow.

Sibling rivalry may rear its head yet in the days, weeks, months to come. But Maria is good for Earbaby. Actually, she's probably good for all of us.

The First Beau

Of course I knew this time would come.

As Earbaby moved through high school, and she would talk about some of her friends dating, I would ask her from time to time if there was anyone she was interested in.

No, she would often reply, all the boys I know are so foolish and immature. No one you're interested in? No one who is interesting, would be the answer. But junior year was a little bit different. EB has always had a pretty good sense of self. She has always been self-assured and unself-conscious around male friends in a way her mother was not at that age. I was of course comfortable with those classmates I had known since elementary school, but the ones I met in high school were mysterious creatures, especially those I found interesting.

I've always tried to keep the lines of communication open, even while trying to respect her privacy. No snooping through her emails or texts (as if I could actually even pry that phone out of her hands anyway), or even putting locator or other spy-on-your-teen apps or software on her phone or computer. I have to trust her. I didn't appreciate my mother snooping through my diary (thank God for those little locks) or letters and even though I've been dying of curiosity sometimes, I have allowed her the dignity of her life lived without a helicopter.

But by the time she was halfway through her 16th year, I knew she would soon be dating. She's both smart and pretty, a fact that I can claim no credit or even vanity for since she looks more like her dad than her mom. And sometimes friends would joke about (or she would casually mention) store clerks or fellow train riders who would try and engage her in conversation. Most times they would be met with an eye roll.

But the day she mentioned that some of the members of another school's football team were cute (and she said it to me!), I thought, this is the year she finds someone interesting.

And so, I had to grow up.

Parents of daughters have different fears than parents of sons. We all worry about reckless behavior from teenagers who are still our babies, even as they become adults in training. But with all the news stories of daughters being hurt by boys at parties, boys in cars, boys in packs, we as parents have to take deep cleansing breaths and remember that all teenage boys aren't rapists. In fact, almost all are not. But those aren't the ones we hear about, we only hear and read about the ones who feed our fears.

EB has a great group of male friends. Sometimes they hang out together. They seem to be all straight-arrow kids, no underage drinking or getting high (yes, those kids actually exist, you cynics) and EB wouldn't waste her time with any other kind of kid. "They're literally like my brothers," she assures me. And I know if she's with this merry band of brothers whose nickname for themselves is a food item, she's safe. She will go and hang out with them, argue and laugh with them, shop and eat with them and roll her eyes at them. "They are so foolish, but I love them," she says.

They've been to the house, they are silly, nice kids who are always respectful and polite to her parents. I had forgotten that teenage boys can be as goofy and giggly as girls. And that they're all still kids.

So this is where we were when a new name started appearing in her conversations. He goes to a different school, is a senior this year, and they met at a party. The first outing was a double-date with her best friend.

And slowly his name started coming up more and more, information fed bit by bit like doling out bread bits to pigeons. EB didn't want to say much, she seemed self-conscious about liking someone. Or maybe about realizing that someone liked her. It took a while before we learned how they met and what her friends thought of him (the food group friends really like him, which is of great comfort to me). I knew she really liked him when he came to pick her up and I told her he had to come in and meet us (you're taking out my daughter? I want to be able to at least pick you out of a lineup). "Don't be weird, don't be weird," she begged us as he parked the car and came in. And for the 10 seconds we introduced ourselves and told them to have a good time, apparently her dad and I managed not to thoroughly humiliate her.

Now she can admit to herself and us that she is in a relationship. They talk and/or text probably daily, but not obsessively. He has a job after school and on weekends, and she dances at three studios and babysits part time. She still sees some of her friends independent of him.

But this change in relationship status is not without its bumps.

She now has to figure out how to navigate the girl drama of friends whose noses seem a little out of joint that she has someone else in her life and isn't at their beck and call. After months of going out every weekend at some party (any party!) or dinner or something, now she is a bit more discerning with her time. Parties have lost some of their luster, and not because of the boyfriend. But the girls are putting that out there. I reminded her when we talked about their change in attitude, that these friends often depended on her for their ride. None of the other parents were picking up, dropping off, making sure everyone got home safely the way her dad and I did. I believe her expanding her social life put a crimp in their guaranteed livery service. My husband and I always wanted to make sure EB got home safely, the friends were the collateral beneficiaries.

Relationships, old ones, new ones, are ever-changing. There are no fixed marks for Earbaby this year.

Are we worried? No more than we should be. For years I've talked about relationships with EB. You don't stay where you're not comfortable, if you're not being treated well, leave, you have the right to dignity and respect. These rules apply in every relationship, whether romantic or platonic.

It's a new phase in the life of my daughter. She's growing up.

I hope I'm ready for this.

Another year older

We're closing the book on 2015. It's been quite a year.

Every year brings about changes, but this past one was particularly unpredictable.

Who would have imagined that I would end the year without my job? I'm feeling especially nostalgic as the clock ticks down to the final hours of this year. There was so much love and loss this year, I'm trying to remember to cherish the sweet and give perspective to the bitter.

The beginning of the year saw us say goodbye to Earbaby's grandfather, a truly classy gentleman, whose family gave him a sendoff more than deserving of his stature. All the holidays this year were the first ones without Dad. Next year he will still be missed, but I hope the pain will subside.

We survived EB's Sweet 16. That was no small feat to pull off. It came after weeks of blizzards and months of Teenzilla behavior. The fact that no one ended up in jail for felonious assault is a small miracle in itself. As if she had no inkling of the nightmare we had just lived through, she immediately started making noises about having a hall party to celebrate her 18th birthday. I'm ignoring that nonsense.

We also had great vacations, good holidays, and a lot of adjustments. Our Florida spring break was a big hit, but her summer program of dance turned out to be a bit of a miss when she injured her knee the first full week and was limited throughout the duration despite aggressive physical therapy. She came away disappointed and decided she wouldn't try to go back this coming summer. I can respect that. It's time for her to get a job anyway. Most of her friends worked last summer and we're ready for her to learn the real value of a dollar. I've found when people have to spend their own money, they're a lot more discerning.

Junior year has been all right for Earbaby so far. She is still struggling with Pre-Calculus, but the rest of her grades are good.

And she has become quite the whirling dervish of dance and cheer activity. She's enjoying the life of a teenager, for the most part, at least from what we can tell when she occasionally looks up from her phone and takes the earbuds out. There seems to be a party every weekend, and it appears that her presence is imperative. I don't remember being out nearly as much, although her dad says when he was her age, he couldn't stand to stay home on a Friday and Saturday night. Because he remembers his teenage years, she gets a pass on hers.

Yet she gets nostalgic too. When we were shopping for Christmas (when it was only three days away), she observed that the holiday was more fun when she was little. Now that the Santa secret is out, and she really only wants money or store gift cards, the early morning Christmas excitement is a thing of the past. I too miss the cookies and milk for Santa days and the avalanche of toys.

This year brings a more acute feeling of loss. When I decided to leave my job, I hadn't counted on missing my friends and the social interaction nearly as much as I do. I'm used to being home during the day, getting my hobbies and errands done, but it's tough to have few people to talk to all day and understand your family needs down time when their day is finished. Night workers are a different breed and I've suddenly got to figure out how to change species.

But the new year is a fresh start. I'm still trying to decide what I want to do for work for the next few years, which makes me anxious even as people implore me to relax and embrace my free time. I have plenty to do, but the lack of structure makes it difficult to start. There's a reason people say if you want something done, get a busy person to do it. Deadlines are necessary for congenital procrastinators.

EB's new year will bring yet another dance class in yet another studio, an increase in her ballet and possibly a little money in her pocket from babysitting.

And the reason she can do all this? Because Mom doesn't have a job! With all the extra chauffeuring I'm doing, maybe I should just explore the job opportunities with Uber.

Gratitude

The food coma is over. At least for the weekend. There are still leftovers in the fridge, and as we await the next full-on culinary attack, I figure this is a good time to count my blessings (which thankfully are mainly calorie free).

I'm eternally thankful for Earbaby. She is a royal pain in the (well, you know) many days, but she's also healthy. And anyone who has been even a little ill knows that without your health, you have nothing. EB has always been a healthy kid, which I'm assuming comes more from God's grace than the nutrition(less) diet she has been on. Apparently there's enough in her DNA to counteract a lifetime of sandwiches, not enough sleep and probably too much exercise.

And I'm grateful for the good moods. She's funny, insightful, loving, giving, forgiving and generous to a fault (especially with our money). She doesn't seem to lack for friends and when I hear of other people with teens who struggle in that department, I am a little more grateful. Someone with 11 children recently told me "only children are lonely children." She seemed to pity me. I told her she was mistaken. Outings with friends and sleepovers are always encouraged and granted. Friends are welcome here always. She cherishes her alone time, such as it is. Teenagers are always connected. They text and facetime constantly and can be in a room alone and still be with a group of people.

Even as I try to figure out what I'm going to pursue for work the rest of my life, I remain grateful for the time. The first few weeks of being unemployed were a blur of busyness and panic, along with recurring doses of depression. Lunch with a friend and former colleague gave me the perspective I need, and helped me to see that I'm not alone. But I won't lie, slowly disconnecting is still disorienting.

I'm grateful for my in-laws. I've been truly blessed by being a part of my husband's family. When others are frustrated by snarkiness, digs, passive-aggressive and downright insults from the relatives they acquired through marriage, I can only listen and sympathize. But I can't relate. I've always liked them and they seem to like me. When my father-in-law died at the beginning of the year, my husband's family pulled together, not apart. No one took opportunities for nastiness or visitations to former fallouts or perceived slights. As someone who has seen firsthand how death and/or divorce changes people for the worst, I was pleased, but not at all surprised, that none of those traits came to pass. I married into a truly classy clan.

I have nothing but gratitude for the sacrifice my younger sister makes every day in caring for our elderly mother. It's not easy to be the primary caregiver of a parent, even when the parent is relatively healthy. It's a constant battle when one person wants to be treated as the adult she is and the other struggles to keep the former parent-child paradigm. My sister is truly a saint, even though I'm sure there are plenty of days when her saintliness is truly put to the test. I appreciate her, even when she thinks no one knows how hard it really is for her. I know. We all know.

And then there is also gratitude that my mother is still alive. She is blind, which limits her quality of life. But at 92, she is otherwise still healthy, fully cognizant and still engaged in the goings-on of her family, to the extent that she can be. If she weren't blind, she would probably be more adventurous, but she does get some enjoyment from time spent with her family. My hope is that she will be able to spend more time with EB in the coming year. But I'm grateful that EB has at least one grandparent left. It's an important bond for both of them.

I'm grateful for my husband, who still seems happy that I'm home every day. This change in our life plans has been jarring for me, but he has embraced having me home full-time for the first time in more than 15 years. The days of juggling have gotten a lot easier for both of us. I had figured after a couple of weeks, he would be begging me to find a job, any job, just to get out of the house. Instead, he's been encouraging me to just relax, take time for myself. Everyone is telling me to give myself permission to take it easy for awhile.

I'll be really grateful on the day I figure out just how to do that.

A cheer (and a tear) for Junior Year

Nobody told me that when your teenager gets to a certain age, in this case, 16 1/2, you actually don't see them much anymore. And so we enter the fall of Earbaby's junior year with me seeing her about three times a week. The rest of the days she's just the stranger sleeping (or eating, texting, Netflixing) in the bedroom next door.

EB jumped into the penultimate year of her high school career with both feet -- as always. Cheerleader camp started two weeks before school began with early morning practice, just in time to finish off the final physical therapy sessions for her almost-completely healed knee. The reemergence of the two dance schools part of her schedule came right on the heels of her first week of school and between the four dance classes (not including the younger class she helps in), three two-hour cheer practices a week and Friday football games, well, let's just say I can legitimately argue that I keep all her pictures around just so I'd be able to recognize her on the few occasions we do cross paths.

As for school, and the work that comes with it, that's again a bit of mixed bag. She loves her classes and teachers this year, all great courses and interesting subjects. She still has the shakiness of test anxiety, for which we're always looking for solutions. The PSAT will be coming up soon to prepare her class for the newly remixed and remastered SATs, but there are no AP courses taken this year, which caused her so much angst in the grades department.

And most of the time she's in a fairly good mood (except of course when she's tired, hungry, grumpy, disgusted, bored or sleep-deprived). We see each other Saturdays, Mondays and Tuesdays when I take her to dance class, but I see her for about 10 minutes on Sundays when she emerges from her cave (sometimes with a friend who slept over) to raid the refrigerator, or take a shower and then return to her lair. After Tuesday, my next chance to see her will come Saturday mornings again. Because she comes home from cheer after I've left for work, we've taken to texting to communicate, something I've always hated.

Then there's the social life. Earbaby has been traveling around this city on a 24/7 school bus pass for a few years now, and is still tickled by friends who don't know how to get around unless their parents drive them. Sometimes she'll ask to be dropped off at the station, and late nights always merit a pickup at the station from her dad, but I'm not sure when the tables turned from her asking permission to go out to her telling us she's going out to dinner and/or a movie with friends (and yes, she will need money). Our reply is usually don't stay out too late, don't hang around unsavory parts of the city, the usual who, what, where questions, and of course, keep in touch, answer your texts.

I don't know how indulgent we are. I seem to remember a lot of freedom from my parents around my junior year (probably even more, because I had my driver's license by then). And there was no constant contact from cellphones. Your parents knew where you said you were going, knew your friends, and trusted you to "make good choices."

But as EB heads out some Saturday nights (or goes out with friends after the Friday football games), I sometimes listen to more helicoptery parents and wonder if I'm just being lazy. On the other hand, she'll never know how to make good choices if she never gets any practice. So far, so good.

Last weekend assured me she is on the right path. After first thinking she would spend a rare Saturday night at home, she changed her mind and decided to meet friends for dinner. Granted this annoyed her dad, but off she went downtown. She and her friends found themselves right smack in the middle of Hempfest! Of course, she's no Janie-come-lately -- she immediately recognized the smell of the weed. Her closest friends are all straight-arrow kids, so they beat it out of there. I know they did, because she told me about it. I didn't know it was Hempfest weekend either, or I would have dropped her elsewhere.

These days are a little bittersweet as the baby bird flies farther away from the nest in preparation for living on her own. When did my baby blob become a sweet, sensitive young lady (except when she's tired, hungry, grumpy, etc.)? We're still trying to figure out what kind of parenting is best for someone on the cusp of adulthood. We've got the roots and wings philosophy down pat.

I guess I just kind of wish those strong young wings wouldn't take off quite so often. Not yet, anyway. Not yet.

Dog days and transition phase

Since when did August, the epitome of those lazy, hazy days of summer, become a roller coaster ride?

We followed Earbaby's summer month of dance immediately with a week away in the White Mountains of New Hampshire. It had been quite a few years since we had gone to this place as a family and it was nice to get away for a full week of doing nothing. Through the generosity of my in-laws we had a really nice condo to ourselves. It started out a little bumpy though, which should have told us nothing was going to go smoothly this final month of summer.

EB invited Delilah to accompany us again on this trip. Since the condo could comfortably sleep three in the bottom floor alone, she actually invited several friends to join us and we were prepared for that. Unfortunately most of her friends had summer jobs so they couldn't get away and her other closest friend, Brenda, had summer school. Still, EB was happy Delilah could come along and they already started making plans for swimming and hanging out by the pool.

The bump in the road was huge. The day before, Delilah's mother told her she couldn't go. There was no rhyme or real reason. She had said yes before, then decided that her daughter spent too much time with her friends, wanted to sleep over her friends' houses, but never invited them to hers, hadn't gotten her summer homework done, was planning on going somewhere with her later that summer and just decided she wanted her to stay home. She offered to pay the money for the tickets we had bought for a train ride to the top of Mount Washington, but she couldn't be convinced that it was cruel and unfair to throw this particular monkey wrench into the vacation plans the day before. It was too late to invite someone else. The girls were devastated, and although I held my tongue, I was livid. The mom promised the next time Delilah was invited to go with us, she would give her permission. Now I like the girl very much, but there will be no more invitations. I refuse to be held hostage by unstable human beings, even if that person has managed to give birth to a perfectly lovely daughter.

EB took the news better than we did. We were so afraid she would be bored (and therefore crabby) that it would ruin the vacation for all of us. Yes, she was somewhat bored and crabby (she hated the train ride and the moose safari) but we got our nails done and we both managed to binge watch Netflix so we were satisfied.

And there were bears. One afternoon after my husband and I came back from a short trip I realized I left my bag in the car with the windows open. Although there weren't any people around, and we were headed right back out, I thought it wasn't a good idea to leave my money and ID in the car for anyone to happen to come along and look in. As I stepped outside, I looked right at a full-grown mama black bear with three cubs, not even 20 feet in front of me. She looked at me, looked bored and kept on her journey toward the back of the condo where there was a huge yard that spilled onto a meadow below. The balcony on our condo looked out over the yard, so she was below us as she walked. I shut the door and couldn't get the words out of my mouth. "Get up, get up, get up," I said to EB, who was on the couch. "Come look!" She stepped out on the balcony to see mom and the little ones. Then my husband came upstairs from the first floor. "Bears!" I said. "Where?" he said, with his eyes wide. He stepped out and saw baby bear number four climbing down the tree five feet in front of us. I hadn't seen that one. We took film and pictures, but maintained a respectful distance and silence as mom and the four little ones made their way down into the meadow.

Later that evening we saw a deer languidly walking down the road in the same complex. My husband saw a few wild turkeys one day and mama bear and the four babies made another appearance another night. With that and the five or six moose we saw, it was a fully enjoyable animal week.

That week was followed by a trip to my hometown with EB. Her dad didn't want to miss a second straight week of work so she and I took off to visit her cousins and aunts. That week was less animal filled (bold fat squirrels don't really count as wildlife) but EB was her usual pill when we go to see my mother. See, there's not a lot to do, and when there is, no one can get themselves together in a timely fashion to do it. I've learned to go with the flow, this was just a yearly trip to see my mother that coincided with Zoe's visit from South Korea. EB insisted she had to see her last remaining grandparent, yet spent a majority of her time holed up in a room or on the couch plugged either into her phone or her computer. When she complained about it when we returned home, I informed her that she was staying home next year.

But we were never prepared for the third week. My husband near the end of the week was ushered into his manager's office and a person from human resources came in as they informed him his services were no longer needed. It came as the biggest shock ever. When he called me, he had already left the office -- he had been given a two-week termination notice but was told he could leave immediately, which he did -- and we met at a park where I go to walk the dog. We talked. He was stunned, but taking it well, which I attributed to shock. What do you do when you're laid off although you're told it's not a performance-based decision?

He would still get a year's pay with full benefits, a generous compensation package. But this was not in our life's plans. For the next few days he got numerous calls and emails from coworkers throughout the building expressing their outrage and dismay. People reached out to the president of the company and the chief operating officer. A petition was circulated expressing support. In the meantime, my husband took advantage of the new YMCA membership, sought counsel from close friends, relatives and former colleagues, and we set about figuring out what moves he would make for his next career.

He didn't get far in his planning. Exactly one week later, just as he was getting into the morning routine of the gym and preparing to have an attorney look at his termination papers before he signed them, he got a call. Apparently there was enough of an outcry (which was unprecedented) that the powers that be realized, yes, he is too valuable to lose. A little financial maneuvering, he'll be paid out of one department instead of the one he had been in, and he will be back at work, doing the same job. His first thought was to move on, he had already started to disconnect. But that termination actually was taken off the table, we realized, so the choice really wasn't his to make.

We thought we would be transitioning to another chapter in his work life. EB had adjusted after her initial despair. She was sad, but supportive and realized she would have more time with her dad as the summer came to a close. Turns out, that only lasted a week. Now the transition is emotional instead of physical. How do you feel after you were unceremoniously dismissed? I reminded him he's not the one who should feel uncomfortable, he's not the one with egg on his face.

But as we all readjust to the new/old career, we're all exhausted from this summer. The roller coaster of dance injuries, disappointment in vacations, layoffs, lay-ons, is coming to an end. Thankfully. I think all three of us are ready to get off this ride.

Profile of courage and compromise

Sometimes things just don't go as planned. And as with many setbacks, lessons are learned, grudgingly.

July was supposed to be Earbaby's defining month. Sure, she's just going into her junior year in the fall and she shouldn't feel pressured to decide what she wants to do for the rest of her working life, but going into a monthlong dance program was supposed to help narrow her choices, and her focus.

It hasn't gone as planned.

The first week of EB's program began the day after school ended. She went through roughly four hours of dance class on day one. She marveled at how tired she was, and it wasn't even a full day. The next two days started earlier and by the time the July Fourth weekend came up, she had done all of three days of intensive dance classes, was very tired, very sore and pretty pleased with the program and her fellow dancers. "I'm so tired, and it's just the first week!" she said. But a four-week journey lay ahead, so she comforted her sore muscles with Epsom salt baths and celebrated the nation's birthday with friends.

Monday morning she was packed and ready to get back to work. Her dad and I planned to spend the morning together with a walk and a brunch, so we dropped her off and went on our way. We had been out walking for about an hour and were just starting to head to breakfast when my phone rang. When I saw the caller ID number, I knew it couldn't be good news.

EB was in ballet class at the barre, and when she went to turn, her left knee didn't. It momentarily dislocated, she collapsed, and the month of dance took a different turn. Fortunately we weren't too far away, and the rest of the day was spent at the hospital and making appointments to see an orthopedist the next day. EB was in incredible pain, but she was also embarrassed that she had gotten hurt. She didn't want to be the center of that kind of attention, didn't want to take up class time while the EMT attended to her, and didn't want to cry (she didn't, with great effort) and make an even bigger spectacle.

And she was in unfamiliar territory. Incredibly, despite 13 years of dance and eight years of gymnastics, she had never suffered a serious injury. She suffered from Osgood-Schlatter in both knees, a condition that was painful and annoying, but she has rarely had to sit out even with that during gymnastics competitions.

The next day her dad took her to the sports orthopedist who diagnosed her with a sprained left medial collateral ligament, gave her crutches and said she should be healed in four-to-five weeks. That's when she cried. Because that would end the program for her, and that's when it was apparent how much she loved it.

Now a mild sprain can heal quicker in motivated 16-year-olds who listen very carefully to the doctor who says he's seen these things improve drastically in 48-72 hours. Physical therapy was necessary to start her on the path. And when I told her she could try out again next year (the program limits kids to only two years and they try out each time), she said she wanted to be in this year's with this group. So it was time to get to work and see if we could salvage the summer of dance.

EB's convalescence rivaled Lazarus. She was on crutches three days, switched to the initial brace she was given when she first went to the hospital, had friends come to visit her (and even insist on carrying her up the stairs so there would be no more damage), and started her first physical therapy session before a full week had passed. In the meantime, the program director told me she could keep coming to observe the dances until she was able to participate again (she had to be cleared by a doctor). She would more or less switch roles with the high school intern, who would understudy EB's part. It wasn't a great solution, but it kept EB in the loop and motivated her to stick with her exercises.

By the time a full week had passed since the injury, EB was ready to go back and be cleared by the doctor. Yes, her knee was a little sore from the PT exercises and the injury, but she was ready to reclaim her spot. Truth be told, her nose was a little out of joint at being replaced and she felt isolated and frustrated just watching as everyone rehearsed for the two-week tour that was to follow.

So we went back to the doctor. He cleared her, with restrictions, gave her yet another brace, one a little less cumbersome that kept her knee literally on track, and told her to keep up with the therapy. EB was ready to jump in with both feet. The program director was more cautious and wanted her to ease back in. EB was frustrated and crabby.

I talked to the program director and told her EB would let her know when she had enough. Although the doctors, the physical therapist, the dance teachers and her mother had told EB to take it easy so she wouldn't further injure the MCL, she couldn't hear us. She was ready to go and she didn't want to switch off with the other dancer, this was her spot and she wanted it back. All of it. It didn't help that the other dancer borrowed one of her shirts to perform in and kept trying to discourage EB's comeback.

Still, my Earbaby had to learn that desire isn't commensurate with ability when returning from an injury. After her first full day back participating, she had to acknowledge that she was in pain. And she wasn't fully healed. "I had a reality check," she said. "I guess I'm not invincible."

Now she and the other dancer switch off. One day EB does all four dances she's been choreographed in, the next day she only does two and the other girl steps in. EB is learning that with compromise, everyone is just a little unhappy, but everyone gets something. It's been an interesting month, for the lessons learned, the frustrations expressed, and growing that only comes through a little pain, suffering and sacrifice. EB is pondering if she wants to try out again next summer. Most of her friends have jobs, and she would like to join the workforce, we would like to travel, and college tours are a real possibility. If the entire month of July is accounted for again, that changes the equation.

But EB didn't get the dance experience she wanted and needed. She'll continue with physical therapy for the short term, return to dance at two studios again in the fall, begin cheerleading practice in two weeks, and then take a look back at this month and figure things out. This was a rough ride for her. I'm so proud that she was able to hang on, hang in, and tough it out.

Recital seasoned

Sometimes you get to dance like everyone is watching. And if you're lucky, they'll like you enough to ask you to dance even more.

We're coming up on Earbaby's last recital of the school year. Between the two of us, there will have been four showcases in all, but she wins the prize because she did two shows in her recital with her original school and there were five dances each show. Ten dances in a five-hour time period is a lot, but she was more than equal to the task. And the upcoming show in her newest studio is much less heavy lifting -- one ballet and one hip hop number in one show.

But she has been noticed in studio number two.

Last year at this time she was done with her second studio and glad to be rid of it. That school was geared to hip hop, which she loves, but she didn't like all the detritus that came with it: Teachers who were less than professional in dealing with the students, blatant favortism and a real lack of awareness of the bullying that was going on. Although she was featured in one of her three performances last year, she left with a bad taste in her mouth, even as she contemplated (and then rejected) a late invitation to audition for the crew going to Las Vegas.

After a tough week working at her new studio last summer, EB took on the one thing she whined, wailed, and complained about -- ballet class twice a week. She is the oldest in her class and was read the riot act the first day when she showed up late with her hair not properly pulled back and other problems her ballet mistress found. She was beside herself and she struggled mightily. But you know what? She now loves ballet, loves the discipline, adores the teacher and has improved by leaps and bounds, so much so that she was getting compliments from her teacher at her original studio. So this year of dance is already ending on a higher note than last year's.

Adding to that was the little bump in confidence when the studio owner asked her to take a class with the company class group in her age range. She's looking for more good dancers and would like to see EB audition. EB loved the workout and the class, but is still a little shy about auditioning for the company. And she is worried about next year's school load. I've assured her we can figure it all out.

But EB in the meantime has more dance in her future. She auditioned (after a little nudge from her dad and me) and got into a monthlong summer dance program at one of the local universities. It's almost five weeks of workshops, master classes, all types of dance, and then a tour of camps throughout the city, where they perform and conduct dance workshops. It's going to be a lot of hard work. I told EB that this is her summer to try and decide if she wants to pursue dance for a living. She expressed interest in the past, but now is worried she won't be able to make a living at it. And let's face it, there are plenty of people who are waiting tables while they pursue a dream of working in entertainment, whether it be acting, dancing, or singing, or some combination.

She also says she wants to go into psychology. I've told her to start looking for schools that have strong programs in both. She has plenty of time to decide what she wants to do when she grows up, and we've told her we'll support her study in her endeavors. Hence the summer dance program, instead of telling her to get a job.

That in itself was an interesting decision for my husband and I. When I was in high school, we used our summer to take extra classes and it made senior year a lot less stressful. I learned to type in summer school, took history class, and some of my friends took drivers' ed, back when that was taught in the schools. Now summer school is exclusively for those who failed a class instead of a chance to get a little ahead. I never got a summer job until I was out of high school and college bound. But my husband always worked in the summers, so he always had a little of his own money in his pocket. I respected that upbringing, so I told him if he wanted her to work, I would support that.

But we heard about the dance program and both decided EB will have the rest of her life to work, and this summer should be about doing something that she loves. Granted, she also loves money too, and should learn how to earn it consistently. But she'll work hard, have to be accountable and responsible, and will get a real taste of what a commitment is. There are no absences, tardiness, or excuses allowed in this program. She'll get her work experiences all right.

After this week, she'll get a bit of a break. No more dance classes until July, but she will have to buckle down for the rest of the school year. She'll have her time to sleep in and then hang out with her friends on the weekends. And then, when the last final is in, the last paper written and the locker cleaned out, she'll start her summer of dance.

Earbaby, to quote Lee Ann Womack "When you get the choice to sit it out or dance ... I hope you dance."