Traveling Together

I've never been here before. In this uncharted territory of parenting a new adult.
So, as I always do when facing the unfamiliar, I tried to arm myself with knowledge.
I found a book.
I think I expected the road to divide...She would go one way and We would go another...right about the intersection of YR 19 and College Drive.  
But then I learned there's a whole other state we get to travel through first.
It's called The Land of Emerging Adulthood.
Emerging adulthood is "a phase of the life span between adolescence and full-fledged adulthood."  And the more I learn about it, the more our new landscape makes sense.  It is "the age of explorations, the age of instability, the age of being self-focused, and the age of possibilities."
Basically, she needs me now more than ever.
Just in a different capacity.
Instead of driving the car, I'm more like an encouraging friend along for the ride.  My job is to share in her excitement as she explores new things, and maybe...sometimes...comment on the scenery.  Oh yeah, and pay for things like gas.  I'm here for security and companionship.
So when she changes her major, I just nod and smile.
And when she gushes over and then complains about her new friends, I just listen.
And when she gets a speeding ticket, I just say, "It happens to the best of us." And then watch in wonder as my responsible girl pays it out of her own checkbook.
And when she grumbles about having to go to work, I just pat her on the back and say, "Welcome to the world of Grown-ups."
And when she lets me ride to the ballgame with her (bc her job with the newspaper pays her mileage), I just enjoy the pleasure of being with her, my new friend.  We listen to music we both like and we laugh a lot.
And when she can't find her purse and she needs it to go to work and I calmly help her look until we find it, I just chuckle inside.
This road is pretty curvy and it winds back and forth like crazy between independence and neediness.
But I don't mind.
Cause for now, we're still traveling together.
 

A Day Like Today

My grandma used to say that whatever you did on New Year's Day, you would do all year long.
Well, if that were true, I would be off work every day for the rest of the year.
Sigh.
Then again, maybe this day wasn't all that different from most days around here.
I left my bed unmade.
I watched tv.
I did dishes.  More than once.
I cuddled with my husband.  And then left him alone for hours while he watched football and ate junk.
I stood in the sunshine as it streamed in the window and let it shine in my eyes.
I started a project...got overwhelmed in the middle...left it for a while...but eventually successfully completed it.
I had coffee.  More than once.
I tried...I failed...I picked myself up by spending time with my Favorite Boy, watching a movie we were both too old for, but enjoyed anyway.
I texted with my Favorite Girl on her lunch break.
I played.
I read.
I kissed and hugged.  More than once.
I shared my home with guests.
I made messes.  I cleaned up.
I blogged.
So, all in all, it was a pretty full day.
Maybe Grandma really meant "live every day in a way you would want to repeat".  So I will.
Today was filled with life...fun, boring, messy, ordinary, extraordinary life.
So, Grandma, it's ok with me if every day is a day like today.

Curbed

We had to have Hillary's car fixed this week.  When Yancey and I went to pick it up, the nice man at the car shop explained that it was kind of unusual for that part to go out on this kind of car.  But then he found a "pretty deep" scratch on the wheel and thought it may have hit a curb or something at some point.  Yancey nodded gravely and said, "Yeah, it's been driven mostly by a teenager, so it's probably been curbed a time or two."  I just kept my eyes down and focused on writing the check.  No point in bringing up that she gets it from her mother, who has hit a curb or two or ten in her own driving career.
Yancey got in Hillary's car and headed home.
I got in my car, looked out the windshield, didn't see anything, and decided to just pull straight out instead of backing up.
BUMP....SSCcccraatch!
Yep, I ran right over the concrete parking barrier.
At this point I was committed....so I just gunned it and BUMP BOUNCED over it with my back tire too.
And I slunk down in my seat and drove away, hoping to God that man hadn't been looking out the plate glass window of his shop.  If he saw me, he was no doubt calculating how much he was going to make off servicing this family's cars.
Hillary won't be around much longer, but thank goodness I have a second kid just getting ready to drive, so I still have a few years of blaming him for "deep wheel scratches".  And maybe by the time he leaves home, my propensity for running over things will be curbed.

Clean Up Time

Christmas has come and gone, and the only thing left after the cooking and shopping and eating and present-opening and eating and visiting and eating and game-playing, is a garage full of trash bags and empty boxes.
I spent the morning on dishes and laundry, but by noon I realized this was no One-Woman job.
So I went downstairs where Parker and his friend were playing DJ Hero and informed them I needed Trash Heroes instead.  All I was really asking for was a strong boy to carry the heavy trash bags up to the can at the end of the drive.  And then burn the boxes on the burn pile out back.  It was a 10 min job...tops.
Still, I braced myself for resistance...
But none came.
They paused the game, hopped right up, and went out the door.
Twenty minutes later, I looked out to find this...

The boys had just traded one game for another.  They had first tried tying a snowboard to the back of the 4 wheeler.  When that didn't work, they tried this dilapidated old trailer which has one wheel held on with a bread twisty tie.  And while, in theory, this should make the job faster and easier, stopping every 2 feet to pick up a fallen bag or re-attach a wheel actually took longer. 

Did they seem to care?

No. 

It was an excuse to play in the snow with a loud and stinky machine.  

Boy Heaven.

And when I came out to see what they were doing, Parker even included me in the fun by "drifting" around me...which involved him zooming around and around me in a tight circle until his wheels slid sideways on the snow.  He is such a thoughtful son. 

Parker Playbook page 27:  When you have a boring job to do, find a way to include a 4 wheeler.  And get a friend to help.  

Little Angels

We went to the Christmas play at church last night.  Hubby and I walked in and found a seat, while Parker promptly ditched us to sit in the back with his friends.  I snuggled under my husband's arm while I watched other women dashing around with white sheets and headband halos, trying to make sure all the last minute details were taken care of.  And I thought, "I am so glad I'm not there anymore."  I have definitely paid my Christmas Program Dues in years past...Hubby and I were Joseph and Mary once, complete with a real live Parker-Jesus in a real live manger...I listened to Hillary practice her speaking and singing parts every year until I could say them myself in my sleep...and I even helped direct one program - including full choreography for each song.
But not this year.
This year Hillary wasn't even there, due to her new job.  And Parker wasn't about to put on sheep ears and get on stage.
And that was just fine with me.
Until a little girl with blonde curls played the piano, plinking out her simple Christmas song in un-even beats and missing a note here and there.
I was flooded with memories.  Hillary started piano when she was 4.  How many times did we sit through those hesitant notes until she became the fluid musician she is today?
And when two different little girls sang "Happy Birthday, Jesus" I heard it in Hillary's little girl voice, the s sounds lisping through her buck-teeth because she always sucked her thumb.
And those wise men looked a lot like a young Parker, making his "wise" face and cracking me up in the process.
I waited for tears to fill my eyes.
I waited for pain to stab my heart.
But none came.
There was only happiness.
Happiness that I had HAD those years.  That my children had lived and sang and worshiped baby Jesus.
And happiness for these children, who were getting their own chance to live it.  And their parents, who might not realize how much these rushed days would mean 10 years from now.
I smiled.  I clapped.  I savored.
And my heart thanked God for all the little angels.

Hillary 

Parker and his best friend Cassidy (aka Joseph and Mary)

Parker and Hillary as toys in Santa's toy shop

Half Baked

I was enjoying the moment...watching Hillary help lead worship and play piano on stage...relishing being sandwiched between my two best guys...when Parker leaned over to me and whispered, "Why don't you ever bake?"
He is famous for random thoughts that have nothing to do with the situation at hand.
I blinked and considered making up some excuse.  But then I just went with the truth.
"Because I suck at it."
He nodded sagely.
Then he said, "Can we try baking something when we get home?"
I just smiled and patted his leg.
But after church, we headed to the grocery store for the ingredients, and the cookie baking commenced.

I wasn't kidding when I said I'm no good at baking.  I love to cook and I think I make some pretty respectable real food.  But cakes, pies, and things like banana bread are beyond me.  My cookies are always flat, crumbly, tasteless discs...and yes, I HAVE tried different recipes.  I am happy to keep Pilsbury dough in my fridge and I frequently dip out a few cookies at a time so I can enjoy fresh, hot heaven.  They are easy and they taste good.

But Parker was having none of that.

This would be a "from scratch" attempt.

So I measured and he mixed.

And I watched and he spooned softball sized balls of dough onto the cookie sheet.

And before long, we had this...

They looked ok.  Parker tried one and declared them "amazing".  I thought they kinda tasted like dust.  

Oh yeah...there is one part of baking I'm really good at, and he was happy to leave it to me...

Sometimes things are about the process, not the product.  I loved spending time with my son, sharing my kitchen and some tasty conversation.  I might not be able to make cookies, but I know how to make memories. 

Mothers and Daughters

As I was walking through Target today, I couldn't help noticing all the mothers and daughters.  One lady in her 50s was blocking the aisle with her cart as she stared down the rows of tissue boxes.  Two twenty-something beauties stood waiting for her.  "Mom, what are you doing?  How long does it take to pick out a box of tissues?"  "None of these look right," she proclaimed in an extravagant, Jewish Mother kind of way.  She looked at me and said, "Daughters!"  I just smiled as the girls tossed their shiny black hair and rolled their eyes.  But they laughed and you could tell they loved that woman ridiculously.
And later, in the check-out line, a toddler girl chatted childishly to her young mother while Grandma unloaded the cart onto the conveyor belt.  And I couldn't help wondering...will that be me someday?  Sharing the intimate and mundane with my grown-up daughter and her babies? Or will miles separate us so that I will follow her life in texts and facebook posts?
From the earliest days when I lay in bed in the dark and whispered "I love you" and Hillary tap-tap-tapped back from the womb as if in response, I knew I was connected to this new human in an extraordinary lasting way.  But I secretly harbored the fear that she would grow up and away, straining my heart strings to the breaking point.  After all, I had seen enough tv to know that girls turn into teenagers who think their mothers are awful and outdated.  And I wasn't really sure what came after that.  We lived hours worth of miles from my own mother's mother, and mostly saw her on holidays.  So I didn't know there were women who had mothers for best friends.  I just tried to enjoy the love Hillary lavished on me and braced myself for the day it would stop.  But by some miracle, it never did!  Even as a teenager, she just laughed and rolled her eyes when I acted Matronly.  And as a college student, spreading her wings and trying new things, she keeps me in the loop by generously sharing details of her adventures.  The other day, she texted me from work, "I bet I'm the only walmart employee that texts her mom on her lunch break ;) " To which I responded, "I'll bet so too...but I'm glad!"
I don't know what the future will hold.  Maybe she will marry and move four houses down and ask me to babysit her children.  Maybe she will stay single and travel the world taking pictures of famous people doing fabulous things.  Maybe we will shop together in Target at Christmastime.
Whatever happens, I'm not afraid anymore.  I know that we share a love that allows for freedom and tightly bound security at the same time.  Those heartstrings are so much more elastic than I thought.  Whatever happens I will always be her Mother.  And she will always be my Daughter.