So I promised to tell you about our recent college visit and our own “trail of tears.” Mae and I attended an early registration event at her college-of-choice. This was for incoming freshmen to finalize their schedules, get the financial details in order, take a student picture, etc.
We approach the table that handles on-site housing and meal cards and such. Here’s where the trail of tears begins. We sit down, and because I had called this woman the day before to tell her Morgan wouldn’t be staying on campus, she starts in, sweetly: “Now Mom, I know you’re feeling bad that your daughter won’t be in the dorms. I could hear it in your voice yesterday (great), and…
“Maybe you should talk to her,” I say, and point to Mae. “She’s really having a hard time.”
So then she continues her conversation, directed toward Mae. Says how she’ll still be able to attend a lot of activities and meet people that way and…
I look over and see a swell of tears threatening to spill over Mae’s lashes; her lips are pursed, holding back a quiver of emotion. “Oh no,” I think, as my own emotions start to react. We stand up and can’t even squeak out a “goodbye” or a “thank you” as we turn to go, since now we’re both about to totally lose it.
We managed to pull ourselves together while waiting to meet with the financial people. Then Morgan spies our neighbors from the next street over! Turns out the daughter is attending. I notice a glimmer of hope in her eyes as she asks the girl if she’s living on campus. (Maybe she’ll say “no” and we’ll have another carpooling option.) Hope goes out the door as the girl says “yes” instead; and here comes another set of tears from Mae. We have composure for a few minutes, and then she spots another girl that she knew in elementary school who actually lives within minutes of the school. Turns out even she is going to be on campus. More tears!
The other clencher is that we thought she would be able to schedule a 3-day week, so that she would only have to travel the 40 minutes to/from school on those days. But that was not going to happen. Turns out the art classes are on Tuesdays and Thursdays. And since Art is her major, there’d be no getting around that.
So now we’re trying to figure out how we can afford almost six grand more a year. It’s forcing me to take my job hunting a lot more seriously. I’m hoping that in the next month I have something lined up and we can go ahead and get that dorm room for Mae. After all, she’s worked so hard these last four years.
I’ll keep you posted on our efforts to get her on campus. In the meantime, check out this heartwarming post by Annarchy about her son on the verge of experiencing dorm life and separation from family. (Note: You might want to have the kleenex on standby.)
I’m so glad there’s another blogger writing about this stage of life. Are there any others out there? If so, and if you find this post, I hope you’ll leave a comment about your own experiences.
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There is something almost magical about Ireland. It’s hard to describe: the damp earth smell, (Did I mention that it rains a lot?), mixed with the scents of ancient things and burning coal (from fireplaces, in May). In certain places, I felt like I had traveled back in time a few hundred years. I traipsed through the pasture where my ancestors’ home once stood; imagined their life before the family split and two brothers would leave for the U.S. and make their home in the midwest.
Blogging the Homework Blues
Last night I attempted to write a post while my girls were sitting at the kitchen table doing homework. It was getting past 10:00 at night and they were still going strong; well, sort of. They were attempting to work but they kept having these random conversations: how many texts and/or missed calls they had; the new Origins movie and whether Wolverine got his knife-like hands at birth or in the lab; how to handle a sticky situation prom invite and/or how to beat someone to the punch and take control of an invite; and Mahatma Gandhi and Lyndon B. Johnson (both were working on history at the time). It truly was a stream of consciousness kind of conversation and just plain fun to overhear, frankly.
Every so often it would get quiet while they wrote. Then Kiki would start talking about something else, to which Mae would respond, “Get your work done!”
So this morning as I’m trying to get over yet another writer’s block, I find myself in a similar situation. It’s easy to visit other bloggers and leave comments, but then the writing doesn’t get done. And I can get distracted by so many things (life in general) that take up my time. Eventually, the writing part goes to the wayside and starts to feel like some kind assignment that’s hanging over my head.
But I really do love blogging and want to keep doing it. Maybe I need an accountability partner, someone who will say to me, “Get your work done.” I’ll admit, sometimes it’s hard to be motivated when you’re not sure anyone is reading it in the first place. Really I just want to sit down at the kitchen table (computer) and carry on random conversations (mutual comment sharing) about whatever comes up. Because as much as I love to write and am willing to keep doing the “homework” part of my blog, I also want to “talk” and keep the conversation going.
To those bloggers who have encouraged me lately, I thank you. As Jenny on the Spot said in a recent reply, “Work on it! Go, go, go!!!” So here I am, workin’ it.
Maybe that’s all I need now and then…a good kick in the pants. How about you? Do you have a blogger friend that spurs you on? Or, how do you manage to stay committed to your blog when life gets a little crazy?