And the ride ends here ...

Well, I've finally lost the baby weight. All 120 pounds of it. And it only took me 18 years, five months and 22 days.

Earbaby is now at Her State U, thousands of miles away. And my husband and I, who more or less centered our lives around her since we knew she was on her way into making us a family, are empty nesters.

And I must admit, I'm not devastated.

The thing is, EB has been separating from us for a couple of years now. She was never much of a homebody with us. Her homebodiness meant being holed up in her room by herself, texting with her friends, watching Netflix, eating, napping, everything, by herself with the door closed. I've joked to people it's no different now that she's gone. If we close the door to her room, it's like nothing has changed.

EB spent practically every waking hour this past summer looking for the next party. She didn't want to spend any time at all with us, although she and I did get in one scary movie together before she left. She was almost manic in "wanting to spend time with my friends." Even when two cousins from Chicago came to visit for a couple of days, even when another cousin, who lives in China, came for a few days, EB was more hit and miss than sit and visit. Her friends took priority over everything and everybody, including friends that she had only recently made.

Now I understand all of this is normal behavior, that their friends become the priority and why should she spend any time with her parents? Why sit down and have a meal when you can grab what you want, go upstairs and shut yourself off and eat while you search online for some sketchy party somewhere in town?

EB did somewhat enjoy her first real job, although she got paid that last week to do nothing. Literally. The kids' camp ended the week before the program, so there were a couple of days, she was told to stay home, because there was nothing for them to do. She only called out sick one day because she just didn't feel well, but really, this particular summer job program, funded by the city, didn't do much for promoting a strong work ethic. I hope she realizes the rest of the world doesn't work that way. For most of us, if we don't work, we don't get paid. She's had 18 years of watching her parents work for a living, so I'm hoping that's the lesson she will eventually learn.

But the summer of endless partying finally came to an end. EB actually showed a lot less maturity as the time approached to leave. She wouldn't settle in and pack. When the last night came, she stuffed one suitcase full of shoes, and packed so few of her clothes, you would have thought she was leaving for a few weeks instead of a few months. She worried more about makeup and hair products than she did basic clothing like jeans, shirts and tops. When she unpacked at her dorm room, her closet looked woefully thin. She will be getting a big box with the clothes she will need for the fall next week.

We spent nearly the entire weekend at Target, Sally's Beauty Supply, and Bed, Bath and Beyond, all for those thousands (of dollars worth) of things to make a dorm room home. We met her roommates -- she has three of them, and went to dinner with the family of one. Everyone seems nice, friendly, and even though EB was overwhelmed with the newness of the experience, she bonded quickly with the one roommate in the same partition and connected with another friend from her orientation.

Our final night together was the day of the Solar Eclipse. Her dad and I went off to see it and she went with her friends. This was such a big deal, with her school close to the 100 percent path of the phenomenon, they cancelled classes that day and organized trips for the students.
She met us for our last dinner together and our last trip for odds and ends. She cried a little when we said goodbye. I didn't. I'm not sad. We will be seeing her in October for Family Weekend and she will be home in November and then December.

So her first class was the following Tuesday and it was the Modern Dance 2 class, which was kind of like an audition. She would be judged by whether she could keep up. She told us she had a tough time following the fast choreography and wasn't sure she would be allowed in. But of course she was. She also is looking to try out for a hip hop dance team. She worried that she never has had to come with her own choreography, and was already talking herself out of auditioning, until she talked to the team president, who encouraged her to try out.

As for my husband and me, we have our own time of transition. He will be leaving his job tomorrow after more than 30 years. He hasn't decided where his next journey will take him, and like I did a couple of years ago, will have a year's time to decide. He isn't ready to retire, and he now understands why when I left that job I didn't want "a retirement party." We'll see what happens in our lives next, as we rediscover what it is like being a couple without being day-to-day parents. As a night worker, I've always had the luxury of having the place to myself during the day when he was at work and Earbaby was at school. Now, he'll be around the house during the day. I wonder how long it takes to drive each other insane. I've told him my new blog will be Wild ride with My Earbaby's Daddy.

No matter what he, and we, decide to do in our next chapter, this one is over. I have entertained writing occasional updates when we visit EB, or she comes home, but I hope I'll resist. It's been interesting, entertaining, vexing, frustrating, disappointing, and exhilarating to try and rear this child into adulthood. Her time, mistakes, good and bad decisions, and consequences, are now her own. It hasn't always been the best of times and it hasn't always been good. But it's been a great adventure and Earbaby, I only want what's best for you, and wish you only the best. But you've left our nest. We love you, little bird. Fly safely. And soar.

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.

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.

New Year in a different gear

And so the race to the finish line of all that is familiar begins.

Earbaby has headed into her graduation year with new challenges and anxieties and we're just trying to ride out the daily storms. When she isn't hiding in her room, napping, eating, watching anything on Netflix, or losing brain cells because of Love & Hip Hop or Mob Wives, she's dancing. And dancing. And dancing.

EB has started to narrow her choices in what she wants to major in for college and dance is going to be a part of it, at least as a minor. A sociology class in school has piqued her interest, and now psychology/sociology is on her radar as something she is acutely interested in. Adding a dance minor now means she may be looking for a combination of those subjects that could morph into dance therapy. These ideas and interests are subject to change, but I'm just glad she's starting to focus on what she wants to do in the next chapter of her life.

And the college concerns have begun anew. While she is guaranteed a spot in Kansas, she is now taking a longer look at historically black colleges in the south. Now it's just a matter of if she will be accepted, if we can take a trip to see it, if she will like it, if the price will be astronomical because she is from out of state, if there will be any scholarships or grants available and offered to her, and if we can still afford it if there is no scholarship or grant money. But other than those minor issues (!) no worries, right?

Also, she is already talking about prom shopping. Of course she won't wear either dress from last year, and the date from last year is persona non grata (she won't even say his name), so anything associated with him is forever tainted. She is thinking about going alone, but still wants a really fancy (read: expensive) dress for her senior prom.

EB has also tried, with limited success, more outings with friends. She planned a New Year's dinner with mixed results. It was the usual nonsense from teenagers, half wouldn't commit, some came late bringing more people than planned for, and she was upset with the chaos. She still ended up with a bunch of friends to bring in the New Year, so that was a win. I reminded her that her friends were always chaotic and sketchy on details of outings and the story she told of the night actually ended up being kind of funny. Other outings haven't always been as funny; a recent attempt at a group movie date ended with everyone bailing out on her at the last minute and her ending up going to the mall and for ice cream with a friend. She won't acknowledge her own culpability in these failed plans -- group chats that half the group ignores, phones that always die, assumptions made on where and when, abrupt changes in plans and last-minute decisions to do something together in the first place. Because she now has access to a car, she forgets that others still are coming from all over the city on public transportation and have to plan accordingly.

But at least she's trying to find her footing among friends again. After nearly a year of isolation, she just has to be more patient. And forgiving.

At the end of the day, there's still her dance. EB just got fitted for her first pair of pointe shoes, a humongous step for someone who for years fought taking ballet, the foundation for being a strong professional. She's had 15 years of dance, but has really buckled down in the last few, with different studios and disciplines. Now she has six dance classes a week and helps out in a seventh. She's busy, tired, but realizing that the time for getting ready for a college dance program is growing very short indeed. I'm just happy that she isn't wasting time with people who diminish her instead of uplifting her.

This first month of the new year has been all about her introspection. Yes, she wants to spend time with friends, but her focus is no longer on parties and all the bad behavior and decisions that it led to in the past. She isn't really interested in romantic entanglements, after a few months of a flirtation with a classmate that just seemed to not get beyond the texting phase. She's been pegged to do more modeling and believes it will help her self-confidence and I believe she's absolutely right on that. Right now, she says, she's working on herself. After that long time of trying to please so many others, who turned against her, I believe she is focusing on the real person who matters. Like the man says, you can't please everyone, so you just have to please yourself.

The scariest season

So we're putting a period on another month. Without a doubt October is a time where we bump into ghosts, ghouls, creatures of the night -- and the scariest part for a student in her senior year -- the college application process.

Earbaby is ready to begin the last leg of her journey of separation from the home, friends, family and community she has known her entire life.

The process won't be easy.

The first part of the separation was the breakup between EB and her ICB. It was destined to be a heartbreaker. First loves, with their too-hot, all-encompassing intensity, always are. But this one got ugly. ICB, who wanted to hold onto EB's every waking hour, even though he was two hours away in college, became too much of a burden on her sanity, her freedom, and her wellbeing. By the time it was all over ICB had become incredibly sinister, threatening, mean, and we actually thought the authorities would have to get involved. That nuclear option so far hasn't been needed, but EB was scarred and scared by the hard lessons she had to learn.

Luckily that was offset by the reintroduction to her own school friends, ones who had disappeared during the summer of needless isolation and bad choices. Going back to school was the best remedy for a broken heart. Realizing that all the people who have betrayed her in the previous year, not only ICB, but Brenda and Maria as well, made her question her own generosity and compassion. Getting back to the people who have always loved her, helps restore her faith and confidence.

It's difficult when an only child tries to share the good fortune she was born into. She shared her home, her life and her heart with people who didn't deserve it and aren't worthy. Once again, I don't want her to grow up thinking no good deed goes unpunished, so giving to others is permanently off the table. We are helping her pick up the pieces after a long broken year. She will live, love and laugh fully again. I just hope she will be more discriminating with the next person, or people she gives her heart to. I have to teach her the red flags she refused to see and let her know that walking out of bad situations is always an option.

But the uncoupling was only part of the scary season. Another part was figuring out just what EB is looking for as a college experience. We took a trip to the Midwest to visit my alma mater over the Columbus holiday weekend, and the trip came out better than expected. My old college is a Div. 1 school in a country town that is all university, all the time. A football game in a stadium of 55,000 people, a marching band of a few hundred, a goofy fight song or two, and EB, if not completely sold on being a legacy, is at least applying as one of her "safety schools." Odder still, her dad, who is quite the East Coast snob in his own way (Don't go there, you'll become a farmer, he used to say to EB), actually came away much more impressed with the school than he would have thought. One day he took a lone drive out to the prairie and was charmed by all the acres and miles of nothingness. He's a city kid who grew up with people living on top of each other.

EB acknowledges that my state U is out of her comfort zone, but is also considering that she may need to get out of her comfort zone in order to grow. She's also considering historically black colleges and universities, a school in San Francisco and yet another in Montreal. The sky's the limit, even if the money's not.

Some of her reach schools have tuition upwards of $60,000 a year. And even though we've been diligent about saving for her college fund, that's out of our reach without financial aid. And the price of doing well with two full professional salaries last year means there may be few, if any need-based scholarships or grants available. Although since we live in such an expensive state, EB could actually pay less to go out of state, even with the added cost, than she might at some of the state schools here.

In the meantime, as we try to work our way through this baffling college process, we have her school advisor and counselor trying to convince her to apply to state schools. They would like these kids to apply to 10. With the applications costing an average of $40 a pop, that's $400, much of it wasted on schools where she has no desire or intention of going. And there would be no fee waiver for us. So I told her to hold off on applying to some of these nonstarters. See where you get in first. If you find you haven't gotten accepted at a school you could see yourself at, then apply to a state safety school with an eye toward transferring after a year. It's difficult and frustrating trying to help your child figure out what her needs are when counselors are only looking at what their experiences have been, and guiding her through the lenses of their choices.

It's all scary. EB is still dancing several days a week, cheering several days a week, babysitting as a regular gig and juggling two Advanced Placement classes and one advanced math class. Oh yes, and trying to enjoy this, her last year at the school she came into at the age of 12. She goes full out almost every single day.

This scary month is over. But the chills, thrills, and spills may have just begun.

Trick or treat.

Are we there yet?

I am so ready for summer to be over.

Which is a surprise, since it also pretty much means my year of no work at full pay is pretty much over too. But as I start to both ponder and prepare for another career (I am studying for one, but still holding out hope for contract work with another), I am thinking that this last month of summer has been anything but the hazy, lazy dog days. It's actually been a trip. Or two.

College tour time has started for Earbaby and us. There seems to be a lot to figure out as this rising senior starts her search for where she will spend her next four years. She signed herself up for a tour of Syracuse right before she left school for the summer, so we found a couple of colleges out that way that we could also visit. She unequivocally expressed no interest in attending, or even visiting the school her incredibly cute boyfriend will be attending. In fact, we drove through the campus (it was on the way) and she wouldn't even get out of the car. She emphatically said she was not interested in going to school in Massachusetts, or even New England.

But upstate New York was a possibility. Our first stop was Union, a small college with an idyllic campus and a student body not much bigger than the high school EB is attending. It's also expensive and extremely competitive to get into. And EB liked it. Our campus tour guide talked glowingly about all the possibilities for study, combining majors and minors for unique programs tailored to the student's needs, research and opportunities to study abroad, etc. EB continues to surprise us. She was quiet during the tour, but whispered to her dad, "I like it here." We talked later, and I said she should be able to picture herself on a campus. She said she could, although the price tag was a little sticker shock for her.

Our next visit was to Ithaca, another nice campus, with lots of opportunities, but EB wasn't feeling it. No matter. Sometimes knowing what you don't want is just as important as knowing what you do. She also wasn't feeling the vibe at Syracuse. We had a more expansive college tour, with lunch, a presentation in a too-warm auditorium (it was August after all), more talks and presentations depending on the college of your interest, a walking tour of the campus with a tour guide who talked way too fast, and options of talking to financial aid advisers. But there was no need -- EB couldn't picture herself going there. We grabbed some smoothies and went back to our hotel room.

We would have liked to have more time to look at more schools. EB's dad devised a spreadsheet of a few that might hold her interest, and she promptly added a few schools on the Left Coast. There's no chance we're going to visit any of those. We have one more tour booked. We're going to my alma mater, Kansas State, for a fall weekend. Now while I would love for her to be a Wildcat legacy, I would love it even more if she found just the school that suits her. I've repeatedly said that I've had my college experience, she should have her own. While I'm excited to go back to a state I haven't visited in more than three decades, I am looking at it more as the chance for her to take a look at a bigger campus. She knows what city universities look like, having grown up and traveled along routes that take her to Boston University, Northeastern, and marginally, Boston College. She knows she doesn't want to go here. Getting a look at a Division I school in a bona fide college town will give her a different prospective.

But I'm ready for EB to get cracking on her last year of high school. As usual she has had summer reading, which she has waited until the last minute to begin. And I refuse to stress about it any more. She already knows she will have a challenging final year. She decided to take two AP courses, will be dancing at two studios again, will be babysitting regularly and cheerleading again is in the mix.

And in the midst of all this is EB's hankering for her license. She still has one more class to make up, but she is almost through with her 40 hours of parent-supervised driving. She has gone from a Nervous Nelly behind the wheel to a pretty confident and observant driver. She is constantly questioning signage and signals and has gone from being a zoned-out passenger with earbuds practically surgically implanted, to watching every step of the whole process. Although she still worries about parallel parking and is too much of a weenie to back up our narrow driveway, she has come a long way in a relatively short time. I'm no longer stepping on the imaginary brake or giving her multiple instructions about the obvious. By the time she takes her test for her license, I have no doubt she will be more than ready.

This is going to be our last year with Earbaby home full-time. By this time next year, God willing, we will be empty-nesters and she will be off somewhere starting a new journey without us.

I must remember to cherish this last year of high school with her. We're not there yet, but we're heading into the homestretch.

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.

Chaos, confusion, conflict (and Prom 2)!

There's nothing more glorious than this time of year with recitals, proms, driving school, and college testing, said nobody, ever.

Could there be more days filled with running and strife? Well, let's see, the great sibling experiment has gone from sweetness and light to epic failure to communicate, we're counting down to the last two recitals of the year (with two shows in one of them and enough dress rehearsal machinations to choke a horse), driving school for four hours on Saturday mornings, and just to make things interesting, the first go-round of SAT and ACT testing, which apparently will determine if she gets into college or becomes homeless. No pressure, right?

Now is the time of the year when every day is a challenge, a game of beat-the-clock with all the things that need to get done, worked on, studied for, and other things that should, but won't be dealt with, so will be avoided.

Things at home began to sour between EB and her friend Maria, about three weeks after Maria moved in. At first, it was great. They would go out together, or if they were out separately, would meet up to come home together. The first hiccups came when Maria kept having to be told not to borrow EB's things without asking. Small things, mascara, clothing, towels, earrings, would inexplicably wind up in Maria's room after she was asked about it and denied knowledge. But unbeknownst to me, EB never got over an earlier problem with the house keys. See, Maria had "borrowed" her purse, and then made an incredibly stupid decision in which she collided with a parked car when she had no business driving (no license, no permit and apparently no common sense). EB's keys were lost in the car in the confusion of the crash. So EB knew about what happened, but was sworn to secrecy. When the keys finally came home because the owner of the car (who stupidly had allowed Maria to drive) showed up with them, but looking for money to fix his damaged car, the story came out.

From then, the "hiccups" got bigger, and more annoying. Maria still keeps her room like a pigsty, so while once we had thought we would allow her to stay until she finished high school, we've decided it would be best for her to find other arrangements. She finally stopped "borrowing" from EB, but only because the two had a huge argument that involved another friend. While Maria is pleasant enough to EB's dad and me, the two former good friends are more like ships that grudgingly pass in the night. And yes, I'm still telling this grown woman she has to get up and go to school, make her bed, clean her room. EB is disgusted by her and tries to stay out of her own house as much as possible. I've talked about forgiveness and compassion with EB, consequences and cleanliness with Maria. I'm just ready for both girls to get over themselves.

Then there was prom No. 2. EB again couldn't find a dress she liked and I refused to pay $200 or more for a dress she would more than likely wear only once. So we went back to Burlington Coat Factory, found an $80 dress that needed just a few adjustments to work for her. Luckily, one of my best friends knows how to make those kind of sewing miracles happen, and EB ended up loving the dress that she was first ready to throw a tantrum about. She seemed to think I cared that she threatened not to get anything. The (il)logic of a teenager is astounding. Tantrums were brewing though. She decided she didn't like the way the woman at Ulta did her makeup, although she didn't tell her. She waited until we got back in the car and then blamed me. I told her if she didn't like it, she should have spoken up, it's her face. She said I always get mad if she says something. That just wasn't true. She was just anxious and frustrated (the hairdresser was late, and traffic stunk, so once again we were rushed for time), so she decided to have a show about how ugly she looked and how it was my fault. Sorry sister, this is where I came in 15 years ago. If I could ignore your crazy rantings when you were two, I can certainly ignore them now. By the way, she looked beautiful.

Anyway, once she got home, got dressed, took a few pictures before and after incredibly cute boyfriend showed up, Cinderella was off to the ball again (good riddance). And this time, she had a ball. She got home late, exhausted, and happy. They had a great time, music and DJ were "lit" and she danced the night away. Two other girls had the same dress, another had the expensive one she wanted but didn't buy, and yet the world kept spinning on its axis. I only have to do that particular nightmare one more time. These are the times I wish I drank -- and am glad that I don't.

But we still have recitals, rehearsals, college testing and graduation (not hers, his) to get through. The calendar is filled, the tension is high and there is little relief in sight for the next month. Once again, I'll just keep swimming. I just wish it didn't feel like it was all upstream.

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.

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.

Spring Favor

We finally achieved vacation nirvana, or at least the closest we will come for the forseeable future with Earbaby. My husband and I couldn't believe it, but EB actually spent time with us for a week in Florida at our favorite spot, complained only minimally, rolled her eyes infrequently, and thanked us repeatedly. Yes, you read those last three words correctly. She thanked us repeatedly.

Now, the rest of the story.

A couple of months ago, when my husband first started making plans for spring vacation, I asked him if he might consider allowing EB to bring a friend along. Our vacation spot is a beautiful Gulf Coast town in Florida, too rich for our blood to consider as a retirement destination, but nice and quiet enough for R & R. We had gone almost every year since he and I have been together, save for the year of EB's birth, last year when she was in Europe, and maybe one other year when the timing just wasn't right. She knows the island and loves any condo we rent, but truthfully, there's not much for a teenager to do. The prospect of having to spend a week in paradise listening to her complain about being bored filled me with a little bit of dread.

It must have struck my better half the same way, because he readily agreed. We had talked about this when she was much younger, and it seems that time has come. Usually Beth is the go-to best friend for travels, but she already had other plans for the spring break. When I asked EB if she might want to bring someone, she immediately asked for Delilah, with whom she happened to be actively texting at the time (aren't they always actively texting someone?).

The answer was immediate. Yes! She could come! And EB was grateful and ecstatic.

Delilah is also an only child and has slept over several times. She and EB are close, but EB has many close friends and usually more than one friend is staying over at a time (or she joins a group of people who invade other homes for sleepovers). Her main worry for a couple of months was keeping it quiet so there wouldn't be hurt feelings from those who weren't invited. And yes, the plane ticket was a little expensive, but it was, in the long run, a very small price to pay.

Since my husband and I both have siblings, I am constantly worried about EB being lonely when we're no longer around. The ship has long sailed to have another child, although I've already told him that my lottery dream is a bigger house, and a whole lot more kids. Every horror story about abused children makes me wish for the opportunity to become a foster parent, although realistically, with two parents working full time and living in a cracker box house, it's not feasible.

But should I ever really win some money, I'm retiring immediately, and we're moving into a great big old shoe!

Anyway, I had two babies for a week at least. Delilah and EB have their own language the way teenagers do. Because they go to school together and share friends, although no classes this year, there were nonstop snapchats, instagrams, texting and various data-eating activities. Because they were also narrating their vacation time with their friends back home. It's funny how this generation lives in the moment, while simultaneously recording it for posterity. It's like the millennials are on one long episode, like the movie The Truman Show.

But I marveled at the simple words my husband and I heard all week -- Thank you.

Having Delilah along also gave us more access to EB. When you're an only child, conversation with your parents may feel like you're being ganged up on. A simple conversation suddenly turns into a lecture, an argument, and ends in sullen silence. When your friend is with you, your parents are probably on their best behavior (!) so there are no lectures or harangues, conversations don't suddenly take a turn for the worst, there are easy four-way exchanges, and your friend thinks your parents are these cool, interesting people.

And the two only children were also OK taking out time for solitude without the anxiety of one believing the other was angry.

We did a whole lot of nothing last week. And yes, that included the homework they were assigned (I still believe it's unconscionable to assign homework during school breaks, we all need real down time). But they got right back to it on the way home, tanned, relaxed and rejuvenated.

After Delilah's mom picked her up at the airport, I turned to EB and said, "Oh no, I had two babies for a whole week, and now I only have one!" She rolled her eyes (first time all week!), but then laughed and told Delilah what I said. Yes, they're already planning to do this again next spring break. I'm open to it. I could do this again easily. EB's friends are always delightful, funny, respectful, grateful, and intelligent human beings. I've heard rumors she's like that too, when she's not with us. And after her repeated words of gratitude, I can now finally believe it.

April in Paris

There are few things more terrifying than sending your one and only child off to a foreign country you've never visited yourself -- although I'm told handing your child the keys to your car rates right up there on the parents' nightmare list.

EB got the opportunity to visit Paris and Rome this past April school vacation, and her dad and I agreed this was something we couldn't pass up for her. We're not big world travelers ourselves, although he's been to Ireland and I've been to Japan, but we know that from an educational standpoint, this was good for her. So we closed our eyes (and opened the wallets) and took a huge leap of faith.

And we all landed safely, no worse for wear.

When we met the trip coordinator at Earbaby's orientation going into the seventh grade three years ago, we knew this was no ordinary high school Latin teacher. He talked about trips he had taken students on, and the chance was there for these students. We thought we might revisit the idea once she got into the upper grades, but here the chance came in her freshman year. There were few underclassmen going, and at first she had friends saying they were thinking about it, so we had to have her assurance that she would want to go even if none of her friends were able to.

This takes months of careful planning and in the end it was so worth it. EB, in a group of 100, including about 20 chaperones, saw the Eiffel Tower, the Vatican, went to Pompeii and walked probably more during her eight-day trip than she has in a year. They were up early every day, got in fairly late every night, still had free time to travel in small groups to shop and sight-see and realize that the world is bigger than their hometown, home state and home country.

Once her dad and I made the decision to let her go (going with her was not even an option she would entertain), I had to set aside all those fears of plane travel that feed into our daily subconscious, whether we know it or not.

EB's dad suggested we stay home and sit by the phone while she was gone. I decided we could worry just as easily where it was warm as here. And sitting by the phone? Cell phones were made for this.

So he and I took off a day after she left for warmer climes. Granted, it really wasn't as warm as we had hoped, but it was nice to get away and plan on pretty much just eating well, sleeping late, and catching up on reading and television programs.

We realized that except for one night away in December for my birthday, we had never gone away without EB. The last time had been before she was born. We felt like empty-nesters, something I'm afraid won't go well for me. We had a nice relaxing time, despite the disappointing weather, but we waited by our phones for her occasional calls and texts. She was always really tired. They hit the ground running the first day, arriving during the daytime and going to the hotels before the first journeys began.

But she was more affectionate than ever. EB worried she would be homesick and miss us too much. I reminded her that when she first started K1 with every other kid in her class crying while saying goodbye to their parents, she turned and smiled and said "Bye Mommy." Not a tear. She had been a veteran of daycare and preschool since she was 18 months old. This was just a new place and she was more than ready for it.

"Don't worry," I told her this time. "You're not going to miss us at all."

And I'm proud to say, she didn't. When she called or texted, there were plenty of "I love you guys," but no, "I wish you were here" messages. She did discover her inner strength though. Yes, Parisians are rude, although not waitstaff or shopkeepers, they're looking for those tourist dollars. Italians were nicer and both the French and Italians dress up every day. And they're not fat. She said she was looking for all the bigger people and realized that all the big people were Americans. Yet she ate well. But if it's possible, she probably lost weight from all the walking despite the healthy appetite. She sampled all the local cuisine, although she allowed herself a Starbucks in Paris (but of course, it was after Lent).

She also discovered she can be assertive. She learned to say no firmly to street vendors who got too pushy, learned to stand up for herself in the customs line when people tried to push her out of the way. She's no shrinking violet and even though she's thin, she's got a spine of steel.

And while the first thing she said after she got off the plane was "I am so done. I'm ready to sleep in my own bed," she's already looking at next year's journey to France again, with Barcelona as the second city.

If there's one thing I want for EB it's to know that she is a citizen of the world and she should be able to expand her horizons beyond the narrow confines of her community, or even her country.

I'll probably be a little less terrified next year. I'll still worry, and I'll still want to go someplace warm to do it.

Look out world. Here comes Earbaby. And she's going to take you by a storm.

Sibling revelry

One of the downsides of being an only child, and there are a few, is the lack of sibling rivalry. While this may be an upside sometimes to spoiled only children like Earbaby, it's a downside in learning how to negotiate, retaliate, conspire and the fine art of tattling.

EB has heard the word "no" probably a lot fewer times than she should. She sometimes will admit she's spoiled, but a second or two later, will complain about the struggle she has with being an only child, what with not always getting such necessities as iTunes cards on demand, or being told that going to Starbucks nearly every day is turning her into a crack baby, addiction-wise.

My husband and I both are middle children of three. There is no substitution for the shared history of family, both good and bad. If you're lucky, and we both are, you actually like your siblings and as you become middle-aged orphans (we've each lost a parent), that shared history and shared grief can help you through the worst times of your life.

I worry that EB won't have that. She's the youngest grandchild on my side of the family tree and the second youngest on her dad's. Her cousins on his side are closer in age and she used to see them more often, before life got in the way. Now we're pretty much limited to holidays, but when they were younger, and she spent more time with her cousins she is closest to in age, she got a taste of the sibling stuff. The three girls could get along for a good 3-5 minutes before the bickering began. Sleepovers were nightmares for the hosting parent. Yet they love each other and beg to spend time together every family gathering. Now that they're older, I may even relent from my previous ban of sleepovers at my house on my watch.

EB would fight with these two sisters the way she never would with friends. The two sisters would argue about everything, par for the course for sisters about three years apart. EB is exactly 1 1/2 years younger than one and 1 1/2 years older than the other. Just enough of a space for the three to try, and many times fail, to get along for any extended length of time.

Now, on the other side of the family, she is nine years younger than her cousins closest in age. When she was a baby, she was their baby when we saw them, which was only once or twice a year. But as she, and they, grew up, she was able to relate to them not as a cute little plaything, but as a fully formed human being.

This summer I got a glimpse of her getting a chance at being the younger sister. First, Zoe came to visit. Her friend Noelle was getting married and Zoe was in the wedding party. After the festivities, Zoe came to stay with us for a few days before heading back home. And EB, whose baseline demeanor many days is sullen, reveled in her visit.

Her cousin is easily one of the most loving, caring and all-around best people on earth. She has the unique position of being both an only child and a child with siblings. She is her mother's (my sister's) only child, but has older siblings from her father's previous wife. The closest one to her age was a teenager when she was born, and there was a prickly period during her formative years, with her teenage sister having natural feelings of jealousy (how would you like to have been the baby for 15 years and then suddenly "replaced"?), yet now that Zoe is a grown woman herself, their relationship has become closer. Zoe was an aunt at a very young age and her oldest niece is only a year older than her youngest cousin.

Zoe came to her second home here in Boston and swept EB out of her teenaged funk. She could talk to her and tease her (she told EB she was a troll and EB responded she would spit in her food) and EB could give as good as she got, one skill only learned by having and being a sibling.

When she and I went to visit my mother before school started, she spent time with another cousin, Leila, and again got the little sister treatment. And also in a good way. Leila is the last cousin left in the city. Zoe went to teach in South Korea, where Leila's sister Lana is already teaching, and Leila's twin brother Joseph, moved down under.

So for a couple of short days, Leila, herself a little sister, got to be a big sister. The two girls holed up in a bedroom, talking, sharing music, hair tips and facial masks.

EB gets the best from her cousins, if only for a short while. I treasure these relationships with her extended family. She won't have the shared history with siblings that her dad and I had. But with any luck at all, she'll be close enough with her cousins, all of them, to know that even when she becomes a middle-aged orphan, she'll never be alone.