"We're all just fragile threads, but what a tapestry we make." – Jerry Ellis

Archive for the ‘growing up’ Category

The Jokes on Me: Advice to My Younger Self

Do you remember when you were a kid—or even later when you thought you were no longer a kid—when you told yourself you were never going to do something the same way your parents did? Or have you ever declared the laughable, “I’ll never do such and such!”?

There’s a commercial for State Farm insurance out right now where the guy says “I’m never getting married,” and the next scene shows him getting hitched. The commercial continues along those same lines of “I’ll never” followed by a scene of him doing the very thing he was never going to do. It ends very sweetly with him snuggling with his wife and kids and admitting how he’ll “never let it go”. I laugh every time I see that commercial, because I think of some of the ideas and opinions I had when I was younger and how they’ve changed over the years.

While I can’t pinpoint all the reasons the when and why those opinions and “nevers” changed, I do think both life experience and maturity play a large role. If I were my 43-year-old self back when I was in my teens and early twenties, well, I just wouldn’t be the me I was meant to be today. So I’m glad I took the path I did, and I don’t have any huge regrets. But there are a few times when I wish I would have had more common sense back then, or at least been able to know a few things I know now. Although I probably wouldn’t have listened to my older self anyway, if there were a magical way to tell Young Amy a few things, I would have to at least give myself this list:

  • Wear sunscreen on your face, even if you don’t get sunburn. Yes, I know there was even a song out a few years back encouraging this, but I really wish I would have listened. I have spent a TON of money on dermatologists and skin care products to fade several huge patches on my face that have hyperpigmentation (dark spots).
  • Quit worrying about when your kids will ever sleep through the night or in their own room. It may seem like they’ll never do either one, but they will. Who ever heard of twenty-year olds that still sneak in bed with their parents when they have a bad dream? You can save your worrying for when they start driving. (Yikes!)
  • Don’t be afraid to take classes in school that are outside your major or what you think you like. Use that time in college to discover your interests and talents. Grown up life will be waiting for you soon enough—no need to rush those years.
  • Buy term life insurance when you’re young and healthy. Darrell and I did not do this when we were first married and instead bought mortgage insurance when we purchased our first house. What we paid for that insurance would have bought us at least a year or two of term life insurance. As it happened, we didn’t buy life insurance until after Darrell had a health condition, which makes the rates higher. Argh!
  • Take a tape measure with you to the furniture store. It never looks as big in the store as it does in your home. I also might add never furniture shop on a whim after having a margarita with dinner at the little Mexican place down the road from the furniture store.
  • Pay attention when your parents and grandparents tell you stories. You may think you’ve heard them a thousand times, but when they are no longer around for you to ask, it’ll make you sad when you don’t remember all the details or how the story went.
  • Practice for your piano lessons! Even if you don’t feel like it or you’re sick of playing scales.
  • Never utter the words, “My kids will never…” It is the quickest way to ensure their DNA will contain the exact genetic code to be a picky eater, nose picker, thumb sucker, etc.
  • Pay your credit card off each month. If you can’t afford to do so, you’re living beyond your means. Don’t get into credit card debt.
  • Choose to be around people that build you up, not make you be untrue to who you are. Being negative and having a bad attitude do not make you cool. Don’t be afraid to move on.
  • Leave the perms for the professional stylists to do. The same came be said for messing around with hair dye colors when you don’t know what you’re doing.
  • Take every opportunity to travel and explore new places.
  • Blame your hormones, not your loved ones. When something irrationally upsets you, realize it’s probably just PMS, shut your mouth and go to bed early. Emphasis on shut your mouth. You’ll feel better in the morning. Trust me.

It’s definitely not an all-inclusive list; after all some things have to be experienced first-hand for us to learn and grow—a pair of oh-so-stylish Sally Jesse Raphael-style eyeglasses comes to mind. The funny thing is, this list is far from being unique to just me. (Well, maybe the hair dye incident of 1985.) Regrets serve no good purpose, but what would YOU tell your young self? How would it affect the YOU of today?

PS Today is my blog’s one year anniversary!

Category:

Advice, Anniversary, Change, growing up, humor, kids growing up, Personal Essay

My Epiphany on Old Christmas

twelve drummers drumming

If we were living out The Twelve Days of Christmas song, today I would receive the twelve drummers drumming. Since I’m not very far into the new year of organizing my house, I’m not sure where all the people and critters from the song would be stowed away, but it would be a houseful!

Today is Epiphany—traditionally celebrated as the day the Three Wise Men came to see Baby Jesus after the following the star—hence the twelve days of Christmas. Modern Biblical scholars can’t agree on when exactly it was the three made their visit—some say he wasn’t a newborn at all when they saw him, and the twelve days came from something somebody made up. Today’s secular society doesn’t really believe in dragging out the holiday season beyond the post-Christmas sales. Once evening rolls around on December 25th, the radio stations who have been playing only Christmas songs since November 1 abruptly go back to regular programming without much fanfare. I think that’s why I like Christmas Eve better than actual Christmas Day. Because on Christmas Day all the anticipation is behind us and it’s all over. It always makes me a little sad when things are over.

When I was growing up, my Grandpa Long’s birthday, on January 6th (Old Christmas), marked the end of the holidays for us. Maybe it was a little too much family togetherness, but I liked how we “eased” out of the holidays. We kept the Christmas tree up until then, and there wasn’t such a rush to return to the “normalcy” as soon as the clock struck midnight marking the start of a new year. While I love eating and drinking too much and staying up too late over the two weeks of Christmas, as an adult I appreciate the return to schedules and routines. I like buckling down in the New Year and thinking fresh. But still, the idea of a whole twelve days of celebrating Christmas sounds like fun—even if there’s not enough room for those lords a leaping or ladies dancing!

Category:

Christmas, family, Grandparents, growing up, home, Personal Essay

Home is Where Your Story Begins

Dear Tyler, Emily and Erin,

In the entryway, we have a sign that says “Home Is Where Your Story Begins”. As your Mom, I hope you know that’s true, and I hope you live what that means as your life story unfolds.

At dinner last night, Dad, who is not overly sentimental like me, told you that he realized that life would be changing over the next few years, as each of you pursues his and her dreams post-high school. What surprised me more was that he said he hoped that your memories here at home would be filled with all the good times that we’ve shared as a family. The way he said this declaration made me smile, mostly because it’s usually me that says things like that.

I barely remember married life before you came into the world, but the only life you know up to this point is in this family, in this home, with these people you call Dad, Mom and brother or sister. Even though Tyler’s four years older than Erin, I’m sure his memories before she was his little sister are vague. The romantic in me loves the fact that when you all are old and gray (or at least early 40s), the stories you will tell YOUR children about growing up started right here, in our home, with our little bunch. Dog stories. Lake stories. Funny stories. Sad stories. Lesson-learned stories. They all started here, with us. And I hope you tell them.

These stories are part of your make up, so you will always remember them. Maybe not every detail, but the general feel of an experience or how you felt in the moment. Which may or may not be the same as what your siblings or Dad or I remember about the same exact event. The shaving cream war in the backyard. The first year we put up a real Christmas tree (I forget what you named it…was it Chloe?). The day we got our dog, Grendel. When you read that first Harry Potter book. Sometimes what you tell me you remember about something we did surprises me. Usually it’s a detail I’ve forgotten until you mention it, so it makes me happy to know that you remember those little things. I hope you always remember the little things.

The three of you have so much potential to take out into that big world out there, and I know you will bless it with your individual talents and skillsets. Dad and I look forward to seeing just how you make your unique mark on this world, though we hope you don’t grow up too fast. Even if you don’t realize it yet, we hope we’re preparing you for life outside this home by giving you a firm foundation built out of love.

Home is where your story begins. Let’s make some great stories.

Love, Mom

Category:

family, family history, growing up, home, kids growing up, Mom and Dad

Mom on Retainer

 

My cousin, Kim, asked me when, as a Mom, I knew when I didn’t have to be on retainer anymore. Knowing her like I do, (she and I share the same brain wavelength) I understood exactly what she meant without her having to explain. When you’re raising a family, especially as a Mom who doesn’t work outside the home, it’s hard to know when you’re “allowed” to let out some slack when it comes to managing the family’s comings and goings.

For me, it felt like when I wasn’t doing something for my kids like their laundry, picking up after them, or cooking their meals, I was being lazy. After all, I was a stay at home Mom, what else was I supposed to do—it was my full-time job. What I learned, though, was that by always doing those types of things for my kids after they got older, I was enabling them to not be able to be independent little people. As my kids grew into teenagers, I quickly came to realize the error of my ways. I’m a slow learner, but I gave up a little control, suffered from a little bit of guilt, and started expecting more from them. They delivered—well, sort of…although none of them have become laundry-guru-bathroom-scrubbing-neat-freaks. Apologies in advance to their future roommates and spouses.

Kim’s way ahead of the game on me on that one—she’s a fantastic Mom who has always given her boys ownership of their responsibilities. For Kim, the matter wasn’t letting go of the duties of household chores, it’s more of the plain, old being there for the family on standby. You know how it is. There’s always somewhere the kids need to be taken, children’s activities to be involved in and the general duty to leave the schedule open in order to accommodate the rest of the family’s needs. When you’re the Mom on Retainer, the expectation is that you are there to plan everything for the family, so naturally your individual pursuits get put on the back burner. It’s a season in every young family’s life, sometimes more extreme than others, but the question becomes: At what point is Mom not on retainer anymore?

As parents, we knowingly and lovingly make some sacrifices of “me” time for our kids, but on the other hand, kids need to learn that their desires do not rule the household. Parents can’t wait until their children grow up to have lives of their own. Young people having plenty of interests isn’t a bad thing, but if it’s at the cost of a parent living in stagnant waters without the ability to grow as a person, there’s a problem. Everybody knows if Mama ain’t happy, ain’t nobody happy! I also think a person has to consider where these expectations come from.

One could argue that this is self-imposed—another example of extreme people-pleasing. The funny thing is, often there is a fine line between wanting to please everyone by doing the “dirty work” (being a martyr Mom) and the need to feel in control. When I relinquish control to my husband by saying something is his responsibility, I have to do so fully. I can’t gently prod or offer up my suggestion on how I would do something myself if I’m supposed to be letting it go. If he doesn’t handle something exactly how I would, I have to allow that to happen. Which brings up what else is at work: fear.

But what I personally found when I stepped back was that the world did not end. There were mix-ups and scheduling conflicts. I couldn’t volunteer to chaperone all the field trips or plan classroom parties. But life went on, and new expectations for what and when I was available gradually adjusted. In the process, we all grew just a little bit more independent.

In truth, Moms are always on retainer. The Retainer Fee just covers less as the kids get older and need us less. Don’t we drop everything when it really does matter? We do so not because we are obligated by a Mom Code Contract, but because there’s something much more binding us to our children—unconditional love. And that’s one thing that has no expiration date.

Category:

family, growing up, home, kids growing up, Love, motherhood

Growing Up with My Dad

Our family circa 1973. Love the plaid!

As a kid, I don’t remember having the hectic evening schedule that our family does now. My mom was a stay-at-home Mom, and Dad got home from work around four o’clock in the afternoon. I remember he always had a recliner in the family room (we liked to call it his Archie Bunker chair—though my kind-hearted Dad and Archie don’t have much in common!) He worked outside all year around—our family business was a sand plant—so in the summer, stretching out in the recliner in the AC was a wonderful reprieve from the heat. He’d kick off his shoes, to which we kids were obliged to moan and groan about the stench—whether they actually were odiferous or not—and usually cat nap for about half an hour before he watched the news. The 5 o’clock news was always on at our home. Followed by the 5:30 national news and then back to the local 6 o’clock news. I remember I always hated when I had to turn off the channel I was watching so we could watch grown up shows like the news.

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This photo was taken after we’d had new carpet installed and Dad’s recliner hadn’t been put back in the family room yet. He took his nap right on the floor next to the dog. He’d worked hard, out in the heat all day. The same cannot be said for the dog.

When my brother and I were young teens, we got an Atari game system one year for Christmas, so sometimes when he came home he’d play Asteroids with us. To this day, I can remember us taking turns in front of the old console TV on these 70s-style hassocks my mom had. My dad, this big six foot three guy, would lean into his moves on that joystick with a lot of gusto, firing shots from that little triangle at those monstrous space rocks. I’m surprised the legs of those hassocks didn’t snap!

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That was the old set-up. The hassocks we sat on to play Atari or watch TV up too close were stacked there on the left. Oh, and Scamp, our family dog was front and center, too.

 Though he had to stop in later years for health reasons, when I was a kid Dad smoked a pipe. His favorite tobacco was this horrible smelling Captain Black. It came in a white pouch with black lettering and a picture of what looked like a pirate on it. For Christmas we’d buy him fancy tobacco from a cigar shop at the mall—Honey Cavendish or Cherry blend, which he always would smoke, but now I wonder if he did it just so it wouldn’t hurt our feelings. I think he really did like that Captain Black. He was a fairly polite smoker, before it became politically correct to be one. I have many memories of him doing a little hot pocket dance when he’d try to stow his pipe away in his pocket before it was cooled off. Note that this politeness in smoking did not extend to his family in the car. Nothing worse than being in the car in the middle of winter with the windows rolled up! Of course, this was well before all the public service announcements about second hand smoke. My brother and I just learned to hold our breath for a really long time.

As Daddy’s little girl, I got by with a lot of stuff my brother didn’t. A lot of things Kevin got yelled at for, I’d get maybe a stern look. Maybe. My husband says the only time he ever saw my dad reprimand me was once when we were at Steak ‘N Shake and I blew the straw wrapper off the straw at him and it landed on his head. Keep in mind I would have been about twenty years old at the time. But he’s probably right—Dad didn’t do more than mildly scold me, though I’m sure I deserved much more growing up. Especially when I was a bratty teenager. I remember saying awful, dramatic, teenage girl things to both my parents at one time or another, but they managed to love me anyway.

It’s not the best picture of either one of us, but this is my dad and I at my college graduation. I couldn’t have gone to college without my parents supporting me.

Next week, my Dad will celebrate his his 74th birthday. Long retired, he spends his days enjoying the History Channel and going out to lunch with my mom…(I should mention he ate cold salami sandwiches with mustard EVERYDAY for at least 25 years while running the sand plant). I am so glad that he’s my dad, and I smile when I think of all we have in common with our personalities. My dad raised me to have a strong faith, honor tradition (but don’t be bogged down by it) and to cherish family. Happy Birthday a little early, Dad! I love you.

A snapshot of Dad at his birthday dinner last year. He hates when I take pictures of him like this!

Category:

faith, family, family history, growing up, home, Mom and Dad

Guest Post: Tyler’s Class Project

So Tyler and his buddies had to make a video for his speech class.  What makes me laugh–more than the actual video content–is that Tyler has my warped sense of humor.  If you’re watching this, and you don’t know our family, you will most likely be unimpressed.  After all, I’m a blogger Mom basically posting my kid’s artwork on the fridge.  But listening to his friends while they were videoing it, and hearing their “logic” behind it, I just saw a sliver of my goofiness in him.  The ability to be a bit ridiculous and actually bask in the silliness of it all. Tyler’s the Richard Simmons-like guy in the short shorts and Bro shirt.

When I told him I wanted to put his video on the blog, I figured he’d be appalled, but he was actually pleased.  So here’s Tyler in his acting debut.  A non-politically correct way of dealing with bullies.  By the way, I posted his senior pic below so you can see him as the savvy business-looking dude he’ll be someday.  I am Mom, after all.

Boss Man T

Boss Man T

Category:

family, friends, growing up, humor, Music, School, teenagers

What Mom Doesn’t Know—the Secret of the Broken Chair

chairFamily history has always interested me. I grew up in a family where my parents and grandparents told us stories about their childhoods. I’ll admit there have been times when I’ve thought, If she tells that one more time…but now that my grandparents have passed away and my parents are getting older, I worry that I’ll forget those stories. I also find that I’m one of those people that tell the same story over and over again to my kids. I know it drives them crazy, like it once did me, but I’m purposely repeating them in the hopes that maybe, just maybe they’ll have insight to their old Mom’s life.

My dad, Paul, wanting to compile some of his stories, wrote out a few from his life, and I typed them for him. I submitted them to a magazine called Storyteller on his behalf a few years back, but as far as I know, nothing ever came from it. In any event, I ran across some of his old stories, and I thought I’d have him be a guest blogger today.

Thanks, Mom and Dad, Grandma and Grandpa, for sharing your stories with me!

It was the fall of 1966 when Mom and Dad sold the family home on Natural Bridge Road, in St. Louis, Missouri. Their house was located across the street from the University of Missouri-St. Louis (then known as UMSL), which was expanding and wanted to turn it into a dormitory. The increased traffic had become unbearable during rush hour, and Mom and Dad decided to have their dream home built at Champ Village, near Bridgeton, Missouri.

Mom and Dad’s new home wasn’t finished yet, so they moved in with my grandmother. My younger brother, Richard, who attended UMSL, went to live with my Aunt Evaline and Uncle Arnold, who lived in nearby Bel-Nor. Our younger brother, Russell, went to college in Fulton, Missouri, and came in on the weekends. Though I had recently gotten married and moved out, seeing the house sold felt like the end of an era.

Mom and Dad had put all of their furniture into storage, except for the dining room set, which they’d sold. On the Saturday before the big move, Mom had asked Russell to stay at the house to meet with the people who had bought the dining room set. Richard decided to come over from Aunt Evaline’s house, and I joined him in keeping Russell company.

“So, Mom sold the dining room set.” Richard said.

“Yes,” Russell replied. “I guess it didn’t fit in with the décor on the new house.”

We all broke out into laughter. About a year earlier they had gotten into a wrestling match in, of all places, the dining room. One of the dining room chairs got broken in the process. Instantly, the fighting had stopped so they could ponder their next move. Together Richard and Russell came up with a simple, but brilliant idea. They would glue the chair back together with Elmer’s Glue.

It was early in the morning. They hoped the glue would set by evening and for good reason. Pastor Press and his wife were coming for dinner that night. They got the chair glued together just in time as Mom returned from her appointment at the Beauty Salon.

That evening, Richard and Russell tried to place the chair in such a position that either one of them would sit on it. As luck would have it, somehow Mrs. Press sat on the chair. Fate was on their side—Mrs. Press was a slim, petite lady. They were both on pins and needles until the meal was over and they retired to the living room. If Mom had noticed how little they’d eaten, she didn’t say anything. If the Elmer’s glue company needed a testimonial of how good their glue was, my brothers could have given them one.

At last, a moving van and car pulled up to the side of the house, bringing us back to the present. A young couple got out and came to the door. The wife was eager to show her husband her treasure.

“Darling, don’t you think this set is beautiful?”

“It looks like it’s brand new,” was his comment. We brothers quickly hid our smiles. With that said, two husky men loaded the set into a moving van. With the dining room set gone, a piece of family history went with it.

With the dining room set gone, Russell and asked Richard, “Do you think we should tell Mom about the chair?”

Richard thought for a minute, then said, “What Mom doesn’t know won’t hurt her.”

Category:

family, family history, Grandparents, growing up, Personal Essay

Back to School Routines

back-to-school

Tomorrow is the first day of school for our three kids. Schedules have been picked up, supplies have been purchased and Erin’s locker has been decked out for Day 1. It seems so early—we’re not even halfway through August! Yet as much as I’m a little sad to see us leave the carefree routine of summer, part of me has been craving the routine that the school year brings. Since they’ve been out of school, my poor house has been neglected and the accumulation of “stuff not put away” has really gotten out of control!

Routines and habits, the basis for my sanity, are so easily disrupted in the summer. The only routine that I’ve been sticking with is getting up early to go run at 5:30. This, of course, is before the kids are up, so I don’t get distracted with fun things to do with them instead. Still, I will miss coming home from work and having the kids around, whether it’s to have lunch together or just watch old “Buffy the Vampire Slayer” episodes. I think it’s really cool that those sweet little babies grew into people that I enjoy spending time with.

Along with the new school year and those routines comes a fresh start. BK (Before Kids), I always bought calendars/planners that ran January through December. Now I always get them with the kids’ back to school stuff, because our life truly does revolve around that August – May schedule now. I love opening up my new calendar and seeing all those blank spaces. They get filled up so fast with all the activities that start up in the fall, but for a brief moment I see those months ahead, filled with the promise of what the future will hold. As much as I love Spring, with the Fall comes a type of renewal all its own.

Here’s to a new school year and the return to routines!

Category:

family, growing up, School

If Only I Had the Words

As a parent, I’ve found myself having to explain things in discussions with my kids that I’m not always comfortable with because they’re topics I’m not sure I grasp myself. On the past two Mondays, our family has learned of deaths of people my kids know who have unexpectedly passed at a young age. And while my kids are old enough to have past experience with deaths of pets and even great grandparents, it is tough to process the death of someone who they saw in their everyday lives that they never thought twice about not seeing again.

Last Monday we learned that a boy Erin goes to school with died over the weekend in an ATV accident. She went all through grade school with him and he was her “locker neighbor”. I wanted to have words of wisdom to share with her, but I found that I struggled with trying to make sense of it. He was only thirteen years old. He should be pestering his parents about picking out new school clothes, school supplies and those new “kicks” he wanted. Instead his mother has to pick out what he will be buried in while his father struggles to survive his own life threatening injuries suffered in the accident. Damned if I can explain to my daughter how to understand that.

Tonight we found out about the death of my daughter Emily’s volleyball coach. She died suddenly in her sleep over the weekend. Not only was she was the mother of six children at home, she was a coach and mentor to many involved in the sport. A very devoted Christian, she was the Director of the Patriette Lights Volleyball League and taught the girls so much more than volleyball—she taught them about playing with graciousness and as a representative of Christ. While I know in my heart that she’s gone home to be in His Kingdom, the selfish part of me just wants Patty to be here on Earth with her family and the volleyball girls, modeling her faith for them like she always did.

The way we individually deal with grief and loss are handled differently for everyone, and I see my children learning as they grow how that all plays out. I’m not afraid to tell them that I don’t know what to say because sometimes there aren’t any words. Sometimes there are only hugs or tears or sighs that we have to get through before we can start to remember the things about that person that made him or her special to us. And I have to remember that it’s okay to just leave it at that.

It is in times like these that I am grateful that I have faith, even though I think I’m a lousy witness to it. As Christians we believe that people who have died who knew Christ really are “in a better place”. But I cannot say those words to people who are hurting and are devastated at losing someone. I cannot quote scripture and point out places where Christ tells his followers that He’s prepared a room in Heaven for those who believe. When someone dies, especially when it’s unexpected or the person was young, I think it’s natural for those left behind just to want their loved one back. I believe most people, even those who have faith in Heaven, want to hear that person laugh again and say “I love you” and for life to be the way it was before he or she died. I don’t think that makes me any less of a Christian to respect those feelings. Sympathizing with their pain just makes me human. And God can handle much more than our mere humanity and emotions.

I don’t think I will ever fully comprehend why there are people who have to leave us too soon, nor do I feel like I’ll ever become an expert in the field of grief counseling. I will always wish I had the right words. Instead, I only know what comforts me personally: my belief that God loves us more than we can even imagine, as cliché as that may sound.

Our former pastor, a man whose faith I admire greatly, once told us something that I try to keep in mind about death, whether in regards to my own or others. When questioned what Heaven would be like, he said that he didn’t know what Heaven amounted to—what it would look like, or what form our souls would take. “But I have no fear about that because God loves us so much and I don’t have to worry. It is better than anything we can ever imagine.” It may not be the perfect words, but it’s a start.

Rest in Peace Chance and Patty. You will be missed.

Category:

faith, family, grief, growing up, Heaven, letting go, loss, Personal Essay

The Search is On

college-choice

Our family is in the throes of checking out colleges for next fall. In truth, Darrell and I had wished this whole process would have started a few months ago, but the person at the heart of where to search did not feel it was necessary at that time. Consequently, with early August application timelines just around the corner, we’ve looked at one college so far, with two more scheduled for this week and the next.

We really liked the college we toured a few weeks back. Drury University is a small, private college in Springfield, Missouri. I was surprised that the dorm featured its own bedroom within a four-person suite. The students share the bathroom with just one other person—that’s a better gig than Tyler has at home! Tyler seemed to like the school, but we’re checking out larger schools as well. I don’t think he realizes what a totally different atmosphere there is with a larger, state school. So those are still on our “to do” list in the coming months.

One of the things that’s made this process difficult is the fact that Tyler is just not sure what he wants to pursue for a major. I don’t think that’s so unusual—how many seventeen-year-olds have the life experience to know what they want to do for the next sixty years of their life? Over the past two years we’ve attempted to get across to him that he needs to start thinking about where his skills and interests lie. And while we’re trying to steer him into getting a feel for what classes are really interesting to him and go from there, he seems overwhelmed with the notion that he will be making a decision that will affect him for his entire adult working life.

Ironically, many of his good friends have already graduated from high school and have gone through the process of selecting and attending schools. Some have gone away to colleges, some have gone to the Community College and at least one will be living in a dorm on campus at the local University here. He seems to be waiting to get a great epiphany from how their experiences turn out. Not a bad plan as long as he realizes that he is his own person with unique talents and interests.

My college experience was as close to community college as it gets. I went to the University of Missouri in St. Louis, which, at that time, was only a commuter campus. I went to class full-time and worked part time all four years. I was in a sorority, but other than that, it was pretty much going to class and going home/work. I changed my major from Elementary Education to Communication about halfway through, when I decided I loved kids, but not necessarily their parents. After I graduated, I worked in the student loan industry; a far cry from my major that involved Public Relations, but I did get to use my writing skills on the company newsletter, developing training and commenting on federal regulations and policies. All of the things I did in my first job out of college were not things that I had even really considered as career choices when I was choosing what to major in.

So the search continues and we are learning together how all of this works, from FAFSAs and admission essays to student housing and meal plans. It’s a lot different from Darrell and my college experiences. Mostly, I wish Tyler would realize that he has great potential to do whatever he chooses, and now is the time to see that blank slate stretched out before him—before he has a mortgage. I can only hope that his dad and I can hammer that point home!

Do you remember making these decisions? What motivated you? How did you decide where to go to school and what to study? I’d love to hear your comments!

Category:

college, family, graduation, growing up, home, kids going to college, kids growing up, teenagers