Six years doesn't seem like a lot of time
My niece recently went off to college. It's kind of a big deal in our extended family because Blondie was the first-born grandchild, niece, etc. She's currently a freshman at Penn State (more specifically, she's in the honors college - we're all very proud of that). My sister has three other kids at home to drive her insane take care of but I know she misses her college kid desperately. I cried right along with her when she had to leave her daughter in the dorms and turn around and head back home.
Having my niece head off to college got me thinking . . . I only have six years before my kid leaves, too! I am pretty sure that she'll go to an in-state school (unless some college in New Hampshire throws a bajillion dollars at her or something), so she probably won't be more than a few hours away. But, still. I know she wants to study music but I may encourage her to choose a minor in something else. As talented as she is, the pool of talent is quite large and I don't want her living in a van down by the river. A few weeks ago, I stopped to have a drink at a local bar. A small bluegrass band was playing. They were so talented and yet, there were only around eight people in the bar listening to them. It's gotta be hard to make a living that way. I once heard a talented folk artist sing a song with the lyric "there's no stage too small." That's true, of course, but rents must be paid and all that jazz.
I feel like there is so much to teach my kid before she leaves for college. I keep meaning to teach her how to do laundry. How to mince garlic and peel potatoes. How to level a teaspoon when baking. How to make yeast rolls. What bra to wear with what type of clothing. How to merge into traffic properly (I can assure you that her father can't teach her this one). How to balance a checkbook. Why white leggings should not be worn (and probably shouldn't exist). There is much to know.
I think I've mostly been focused on sending a decent human being into the world but I should probably start working on those other parental obligations, too. Last week she surprised me by grabbing one of my cookbooks and making (vegan) french toast muffins. They were perfect! Yesterday she tried to make snickerdoodles for church and I don't know what went wrong, but something definitely went very, very wrong. I assured her that I've ruined more than a few batches of cookies along the way. Maybe some lessons simply must be learned the hard way. It's kind of like taking a little bite of baking chocolate because your eyes have not convinced your brain that it really is not edible in its original form. But, everyone tries it and everyone learns.
I took her to the middle school for registration last week. She received her schedule and had her photo taken for her student ID card. She dismissed the photo almost immediately. "I look like I have a spray tan!" she wailed. I saw something different. If you compare her sixth grade ID photo and her seventh grade photo, it's easy to notice some differences. The girl in the new photo has the confidence of a young woman who has already tackled her first year of middle school. She's a girl who has learned a few things about mean girls in the cafeteria and teachers who are not messing around. She's a girl who makes friends easily and sometimes loses them, too. She knows she has talent but remembers not to get too cocky. She knows that others are talented, too, and that she has to work hard.
School starts next week. I know I'll have to replace that school ID at least once (at five bucks a pop). As always, I'll tell her that I'm adding it to her tab.
Having my niece head off to college got me thinking . . . I only have six years before my kid leaves, too! I am pretty sure that she'll go to an in-state school (unless some college in New Hampshire throws a bajillion dollars at her or something), so she probably won't be more than a few hours away. But, still. I know she wants to study music but I may encourage her to choose a minor in something else. As talented as she is, the pool of talent is quite large and I don't want her living in a van down by the river. A few weeks ago, I stopped to have a drink at a local bar. A small bluegrass band was playing. They were so talented and yet, there were only around eight people in the bar listening to them. It's gotta be hard to make a living that way. I once heard a talented folk artist sing a song with the lyric "there's no stage too small." That's true, of course, but rents must be paid and all that jazz.
I feel like there is so much to teach my kid before she leaves for college. I keep meaning to teach her how to do laundry. How to mince garlic and peel potatoes. How to level a teaspoon when baking. How to make yeast rolls. What bra to wear with what type of clothing. How to merge into traffic properly (I can assure you that her father can't teach her this one). How to balance a checkbook. Why white leggings should not be worn (and probably shouldn't exist). There is much to know.
I think I've mostly been focused on sending a decent human being into the world but I should probably start working on those other parental obligations, too. Last week she surprised me by grabbing one of my cookbooks and making (vegan) french toast muffins. They were perfect! Yesterday she tried to make snickerdoodles for church and I don't know what went wrong, but something definitely went very, very wrong. I assured her that I've ruined more than a few batches of cookies along the way. Maybe some lessons simply must be learned the hard way. It's kind of like taking a little bite of baking chocolate because your eyes have not convinced your brain that it really is not edible in its original form. But, everyone tries it and everyone learns.
I took her to the middle school for registration last week. She received her schedule and had her photo taken for her student ID card. She dismissed the photo almost immediately. "I look like I have a spray tan!" she wailed. I saw something different. If you compare her sixth grade ID photo and her seventh grade photo, it's easy to notice some differences. The girl in the new photo has the confidence of a young woman who has already tackled her first year of middle school. She's a girl who has learned a few things about mean girls in the cafeteria and teachers who are not messing around. She's a girl who makes friends easily and sometimes loses them, too. She knows she has talent but remembers not to get too cocky. She knows that others are talented, too, and that she has to work hard.
School starts next week. I know I'll have to replace that school ID at least once (at five bucks a pop). As always, I'll tell her that I'm adding it to her tab.
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