Liner notes 27- 39: College edition

Lauren in an impossibly empty bookstore. 

27.  Dream big*. I think those dreams were planted inside you for a reason. Listen to them, shoot high, and buckle down and make it work. We believe in you.

28.  Browse the university book aisles to find classes/ideas/subjects you might love to take next semester. Oh, and buy the used books as much as you can, keep the receipts, and sell back the ones you don't need longer term (that's probably four in one but this is my list so I'll multiply if I want to :).

29. Ask questions. Literally, in class. You never know unless you ask. Go ahead, raise your hand.

30. Make connections. Between ideas and different classes you take. And, especially, with people: professors, friends, fellow students. And us, your family. Still connect with us :) 

31. Take advantage of these four years*. They're unique and pretty much all about you. Fill 'em up.

32. Be silly sometimes. Have a blast.

33. Learn from your mistakes. You'll make them. It's okay.

34. Take some classes Just Because. Even if they don't count a bit toward your major or graduation. Now's your chance to take ballroom dance/moral philosophy/flower design/golf/whatever.

35. Sit up front now and then.

36. Start those term papers early. Bit by bit is better. Just trust me on this: everyone thinks they can crank out a paper in one procrastinated all-nighter. I'm here to tell you that it will show.

37. Don't walk by yourself after dark. Pretty please.

38. Ask more questions.  Nudge your assumptions, look at things from another perspective, open up to other ideas/explanations/approaches.

39. Remember how very much we love you. We do. We really, really do.

. . .

With the first of my children leaving home in the next few weeks  this week, I'm writing occasional (weeklyish) Liner Notes, bits of advice to my kids concerning my take on how to be a gracious, awesome grown-up-type person (both trivial bits and major advice). Why "liner notes"? Because, back in the day, I pored over the liner notes of my cds, curious to find the story behind the music. That's what I hope this will be: the story behind the music of growing up and setting off on your own. (Or at least a ready-made catalog of how you can avoid making my mistakes.) Feel free to chime in! What would you add?

* Borrowed from Lee Woodruff's advice to her son when he left for college. Check out her terrific series of posts about sending a child to college: preparing, dropping off, and recovering. Couldn't have said it better myself.

Stepping outside

 

On Friday evening, everyone was swirling around the kitchen after dinner. Dishes were done. Sam was strumming Hey, Jude on his beloved new ukelele. Laughter. Glow. Singing. It was delicious, hyggli. And, suddenly, too much. I stepped outside to the twilight yard and sat on the patio to cleanse my palate of the sweet heavy rich thoughts and memories we have been serving up lately.  

Lots of happenings around here in the last week: Sam's birthday on Monday, lovely family times, Lauren's breathtaking patriarchal blessing last night, her birthday today, sorting and packing and shopping and (tomorrow) flying west with Lauren to deliver her at university. All wonderful, happy events with an aftertaste of leaden, sweet melancholy.

Truth is I've been avoiding writing here. The emotions have outpaced my ability to step outside of it all to reflect and do it justice. I crave sparse and spare and breezy lightheartedness.  Luckily I live with these guys:

"Pteradactyl!"

Or, at least, I do for another 12 hours, give or take...  

See? I can't be trusted not to take a maudlin u-turn.

I know: She's going to have a fantastic time. She'll be back home in that bed of hers and I am her mother whether she's near or far. But I'm fighting those pesky lumps in the throat today, this week. Far seems                             far.

Happy camper, jolly rancher

All is well, all is swell. Tanned, happy, taller, with lots of stories of 25 mile hikes, bucking hay, treks, and a five page unsent letter for us in the lodge. Today: In N Out Burger and flying home.

Planepooling

Tonight I pick up the mysterious and elusive Sam from camp. I'm excited to see him, the camp, and make sure that they haven't kidnapped him or lost him (G suggested at one point that we request a photo of him with that day's newspaper, just to verify).  Nope, still haven't heard from him. Still hoping that means that he's having a really very fantastic time, not a really very miserable time. I might have awakened once or twice in the middle of the night these past few weeks wondering about him and how it's going. (It's true that I did, but I also put that last sentence in so that when he reads it, he'll feel guilty and write more next time. Passive-aggressive parenting anyone? Oh, hi, Sam!)

I flew out yesterday and we will fly back tomorrow. Then I'll be back again in a couple of weeks to drop off L at university. It's like I'm doing the usual carpool mom thing but with airplanes. I agree: pretty ridiculous.

North

We headed north for a quick jaunt to Vermont this weekend, G and I.  Our fab friends (from back in law school, oh, 19 years ago) are in New England visiting their daughter who's at Dartmouth's debate camp this summer. We jumped at the chance to hang out with them when they invited us to crash their vacation for a blissful day or two.

You've got to love a town with an announcement blackboard, right?^

Such great people. (Hope you don't mind my posting the photo, guys...hey look, I'm in the window. Never let it be said I don't post pictures of myself.) 

Amazing what a 24-hour roadtrip can do for your outlook. Vermont, you did yourself proud.

G generously offered to drive while I put back the seat for a bit and snoozed on the way home in the warm afternoon sun. Our time up north was filled with marvelous views but I think this one was one of my favorites.

True north, that G.