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I pulled up to get Parker from basketball practice, rushing as usual with my mind somewhere else.
As he headed toward the car, he tilted his head and gave me a funny look.
Only then did I remember...he wanted to drive!
I hopped out and he hopped in...banging his knees on the scooted up seat and exclaiming about how tiny I am because I have to have the rearview mirror pointing so far down.
And since that day, several weeks ago, it has been the same routine every evening.
I wait for him in the parking lot, and when I see him coming, I scoot the seat back as far as it goes and then walk around to the passenger seat.  He gets in, pulls the steering wheel down and adjusts the mirror up...turns NPR off and LeCrae on...we buckle up...and off we go.
I try to relax as he waits for traffic to break enough for him to make a left-hand turn, and he says things like "The other day I was driving and this song was on and it made me feel bad."  To which I reply, "Why did it make you feel bad?"  And he gives me a look and says, "No...bad.  You know, cool."
I totally would've gotten that if I hadn't been distracted by the semi flying toward my door.
But we make it safely home to cook dinner and do homework and watch tv.
And the next morning when I get in the car to go to work, I scoot the seat back up, adjust the mirrors, switch the music back...and smile.

School Supplies

Hillary's second semester of college started with a free, unexpected snow day.  She decided to use it to shop for supplies for her drafting, art, and photography classes.  And she invited me along.

Fortunately, I come with a chauffeur...

Whose services include transport from front door to car door without your feet having to touch cold, wet snow.

It was kind of like old times...Hubby and I taking our little girl school supply shopping.  Only this time the supplies were much more obscure (movable fixatif, T square, kneaded eraser) and expensive (total at the first store was close to $100).  And she no longer rides in the cart.  Or sings Disney movie songs at the top of her lungs as we wheel down the aisle.  She was focused.  With a detailed list of which things might be at what stores.  

Dad was all over it.

He scrutinized product descriptions.  He scoured shelves.  He even asked a saleslady for help.

He was with her every step of the way.  Her Hero...carrying heavy things and leaping cash register lines in a single bound.

And since he had it covered....

I was able to take a little break now and then.  

All in all it was a good day.  Hillary got the stuff she needed.  Hubby got the satisfaction of being needed.  And I got to be with both of them...relishing the sight of the connection between them.  Oh, and I also got Starbucks.  

Sometimes Life just comes together...and you get to have everything on your list ;)

Soundtrack for Life

My kids and I share a love of music.

All kinds of music.

If I want to go on an adventure, all I have to do is pull up itunes and put it on "shuffle".  Soon I'm belting out showtunes, or rapping with Eminem, or caught up in a trumpet solo, or soothing my soul with jazz, or nodding my head to folksy whimsical songs about how good life is, or swaying to a black gospel choir, or even banging my head to some classic rock.  And there is always something new in the mix.  Much to Hubby's dismay, (he thinks we waste too much money on music) we keep the itunes store in business by downloading songs I heard on a commercial or songs Parker found on youtube or songs by some new rockin group Hillary learned about from a college friend.  Even the neighbor kid gets in on the action.  He doesn't have internet at his house, so he uses our itunes account to download songs to his ipod and leaves a crumpled wad of cash by my keyboard to cover his cost.  

We also burn cd's with abandon, littering the car, the kitchen counter, and the computer desk with silver discs hand-marked with things like "mom 2" and "cheer up" and "parker hip hop".  (More "waste" according to Hubby...who keeps his 5 country cds safe in his truck and never EVER sings along with the radio.)

I love the wild diversity our music choices showcase.  It's like a reflection of our souls.  And it proves to me that I managed to make at least ONE of my parenting goals happen... to produce happy people who enjoy life in many ways and aren't afraid to try new things...souls who appreciate the complexity of creativity.

I love that Parker listens to Sinatra and Black Eyed Peas and Debussy all in the same day.

I love that Hillary thinks Barbara Streisand belting "Don't Rain on My Parade" is as cool as the alternative band that's so new and unknown it's not even ON itunes yet.  

I love that Parker looks up the guitar chords so he can play "Simple Man."

And I love that Hillary writes quirky songs for her band, Kitchen Fire, as well as worship songs for no one but her and God. 

Cause life can be funny and angry and confusing and sweet.  It can be fast-paced or roll over you in soft waves.  And whatever it is...I'm just glad there's a song to go with it.

Clean

I have certainly learned the value of letting things go.  The wisdom of putting off housework to take some time for myself, or my family.  The importance of buying enough socks and underwear to get you through a week (or two) of not having time to do laundry.
But sometimes, when I'm feeling crabby, there's nothing for it but to clean something.
Dirty dishes disappear.  Clean laundry is hung in closets.  Various pieces of my family (earrings, shoes, important papers) are placed back in their respective bedrooms.
And my world starts to feel a little more under control.
The clean lines of a blank, empty countertop...the shine of a chrome faucet...refrigerator magnets lined up in a row...these things somehow pull smooth the edges of my crumpled soul and I breathe easily again.
I must have passed a little of this on to my children.  Because, while most of the time their rooms look like a department store exploded, every now and then they disappear in there...door shut...music loud...and re-emerge with a smile on their face and an armful of stuff for our perpetual "Goodwill Pile".
Fortunately, between the four of us, there is always someone feeling messy enough to keep OCD from completely taking over the family.  It keeps us balanced.
Unfortunately, cleanliness is fleeting.
It's time to start supper.
Which means pots and pans...crumbs on the floor...a spattered stovetop.
But for a little while today, my heart, my mind, AND my kitchen shined.

Like Father, Like Son

After spending a wonderfully relaxing day at home with my family, it was really hard to think about going back to work.  I stood up from the movie we had just finished, stretched, and headed to my room to get ready for bed...feeling really sad, but trying not to let it show.
It wasn't long before Parker appeared.
He wrapped his long arms around me and gave me a manly squeeze.  My head tucked under his chin, he said, "I'm sorry you don't get another day off, Mama."
And in that moment he was so like his father..generously offering his strength and comfort..that tears sprang to my eyes.
I patted him on the back and thanked him for his thoughtfulness.
And I went to bed with a lighter heart, loving my Boy...and the Man he reminds me of.

Snow Day

I used to hate snow days.
There....
I said it.
I hated them because they were so much WORK.
I would spend many many minutes stuffing small arms and legs into layers, and then puffy snowsuits, and then boots and mittens and hats...until my children resembled tottering Michelin Men.
Then I had to throw my OWN warm things on quickly because the children were already starting to sweat.
Finally we would waddle out the door where we would tramp around making boot prints in the yard for all of 10 seconds before fingers were frozen and it was time to come back inside.
Where I had to UNlayer the layers and try to avoid letting my sock feet slip in the cold puddles left by shaken off snow.
And before you could say "hot chocolate" my rosy-cheeked cherubs were saying, "Mommy!  Let's go back outside!"
Thank God we lived in Missouri and not Minnesota.
I only had to fake enthusiasm 3-5 times a year.
But now....
ahh, now...
things are different.
As a teacher, snow days mean an unexpected day off work for me. And my children still love to play in the snow, but they are old enough to stuff themselves into layers...and content to ride four-wheelers and throw snowballs without me...leaving me free to enjoy this...

Which somehow makes it easier to tolerate this...

So bring on the cold snow!  I have coffee to warm my fingers and family to warm my heart.

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.