Firsts, Lasts...Sigh

Today was a first and a last. 

It seems a lot of those having been filling up my dance card lately.

It was the first day of my younger daughter's last year of high school.  While it does not have the emotional vice grip it could have, there is a strong tug just the same. It's probably because I'm no neophyte in this arena. The timeline of school first days is one that parents know all too well because it swings around each year for at least 12 consecutive years (not counting kindergarten and pre-school.)

Measuring the alpha and omega moments tucked into everyday life is a comfortable yardstick for me; stopping to measure where my girls are and what it means to me suits my nature.

Taking the first day of school photos is non-negotiable in this house.  Fortunately there is little-to-no push back on it, but the scout motto of "Be Prepared" comes into play as I wait, vigilant and camera-ready by the door.  I savor being appeased.  The definitive moment came in 2009 when my oldest and her freshman year college roommate took pictures of each other on their first day of classes and sent them to me. 

What an unexpected bonus click of the shutter!

I love thinking about that scene being replayed across the world as students head off to their new school years.  It is strangely comforting.  Parents, regardless of culture, economics, faith all share in this small, yet solid moment.  It's like a moon rock in which the size has nothing to do with its incredible density.

That's what I felt this morning-dense in the heart.

These are marker moments - simple milestones.  I understand that what happens during those 179 other days in the classroom is more important and goes mostly undocumented at home as kids mature, but that first day - with its scrubbed optimism and perhaps a specially chosen apparel item is when things seem possible.  It grabs me in a fit of achy, breaky love.

The humorous part is that as a kid I moaned and groaned about the first day of school. It could have been that we usually vacationed at the shore right before school began so I felt bereft over seeing summer in the rear view mirror. It is more likely that I have always had awful transitioning skills. 

It seems 'firsts' have a powerful blast when they hit.  Baby books over-embellish those many events - first tooth, first steps, first word, first haircut - the list goes on.  Yet, the 'lasts' are often unplanned.  We can't really plan for the last book we'll read to our child or the last time they'll ride their bike.  "Lasts" sneak up on us in reflection.  Instead of blowing us away, they breeze by daring us to notice them.

Well, not today.  Today was the last first day of high school.  It was pouring rain.  The gods toyed with my emotions but I made sure I looked them squarely in the eyes and marked the moment.

Click.

College Tours in Season

My thoughts ranged from "Pennsylvania has some terrific universities to consider" to " I wish I would have seen more colleges when I looked years ago."  Either way, the college touring season officially opened for my high school daughter and with school visits scheduled and the GPS fired up we hit the road this month outside the Keystone state.

Free image courtesy of FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Since I went 'college shopping' with my older daughter four years ago, I felt equipped for this round.  Silly me.  This daughter has her sights set on performing arts and that introduces an audition segment to come this year.  This new sliver will keep us on our toes; me, figuratively and her, literally.

Here are some surprises I found along the way:  (I decided to omit the specific school names in deference to my daughter.)

- August can be a terrific time to visit schools.  We arrived on one campus without a tour appointment prepared to wander through on our own.  We stumbled into Freshman Move In Day and experienced an enthusiastic welcome everywhere we went.  It was an added treat to see firsthand how the incoming freshman and their families were greeted. It was one of several tugs at my heart on this trip.

-Even sweeter was making a wrong turn in the performing arts building and passing the dance program's Associate Dean's Office. She invited us in for an informal chat that lasted over 30 minutes.

- Another school was preparing to welcome back its students that week and again, no tours were offered.  Yet, an admissions counselor met with us and the administrator in the dance department showed us the studios, performance spaces and was chock full of program tidbits for us to digest. The quiet summer days leave space for folks to take unscheduled time they may not have during the regular semester.  It's a roll of the dice but luck was a lady this month.

Free image courtesy of
FreeDigitalPhotos.net

- Info session videos are pretty standard fare but one school showed a clip that was a direct hit on my heart - cue the strings - it began with scenes from their graduation ceremony.  With both daughters graduating in June, this was a blind assault on my sensibilities - they had me at hello.  Bravo!

-I have yet to be on a college tour in which the visiting students ask lots of questions.  Parents are the grand inquisitors, hands down. This was true four years ago and ditto for this go round.  Urban or pastoral campuses alike - it was the same story.  I think it is a bit of a shame to have us looming on each tour but trusted in the fact that our kids are really doing double duty as they listen to the flood of information while  trying to picture themselves living in the space.

-Two girlfriends were on one tour and were very chatty with each other and the tour guide.  The non-parental visit has its merits.

-On a campus in the heart of  New York City a mother focused most of her questions around safety. It was clear this topic weighed heavily on her.  Her daughter's questions, on the other hand, were freedom based as in: Is there a curfew? and Can guys and girls visit and stay over in the dorms?  They were reading from two entirely different scripts.  It was very entertaining.


Free image courtesy of
FreeDigitalPhotos.net

-Trying to break up a 7 1/2 hour ride home, my daughter searched for one more school that was somewhat on our route and hit gold scheduling a tour and a meeting with the Chair of the dance division.   Again, the quieter summer month made the professor more accessible and the one-on-one time was precious.

- I really appreciated the schools who created very small tour groups and who used the selected  major of the visiting student to pair up with a specific guide.  Twelve guides were on hand at one school so each tour group was no more than two or three students.  Our guide was a rising senior dance major from Pennsylvania.  Bingo!  She took additional time with us following the tour and made sure my daughter saw every facet of the program and facilities.

-My final thoughts are for the long suffering younger siblings who have no vested interest in any tour, but attend them in a forced march sort of way.  I feel your pain, pity your parents, and trust you will be rewarded in some way.

We have a few more colleges to visit in the fall. Then there are the auditions, which will be a chance to experience the dance instruction and feel the campus life.  And finally, the 'accepted students' days in April which could be called 'boots on the ground' moments when decisions loom large. 

All this just to get in the door.

Shoe Me

"Helloooo Lover" cooed Carrie Bradshaw (Sarah Jessica Parker) as she and Samantha Jones of Sex and the City fame gazed into a Manhattan storefront window memorably fawning over a pair of hot pink Manolo Blahnik heels. It often seemed Carrie's relationship with fashion was her best one, offering her comfort and consistency as she navigated her pseudo-fabulous Manhattan life.


Manolo Blahnik's worn by Carrie Bradshaw

Carrie's love affair with shoes escalated to new heights when her love affair with Mr. Big resulted in her donning blue satin Manolo's (currently on sale at Nordstrom's for a cool $945) for her wedding in the first SATC movie. It was a dreamy, dare I say poignant ("something blue") use of footwear. 

I thought about the relationship between women and their shoes in much more simple terms as my daughter and I recently shopped for her prom heels.  Our trek took us through shoe stores large and small and two department store shoe collections.  My feet did not hurt as much as my eyes when I saw some of the platform wonders before me.  While Nancy Sinatra's 1966 pop song insists these boots are made for walkin', many shoes that day seemed better suited for sittin'.

Literally putting his feet where his designs are, Manolo Blahnik told a Telegraph reporter in 2010 how seriously he takes shoe style and comfort when he explained, "My assistants and I will try out every shoe ourselves, walking up and down the factory floor to make sure that there are no blisters."
http://fashion.telegraph.co.uk/news-features/TMG8018703/Manolo-Blahnik-Men-say-my-shoes-have-saved-marriages.html

Shoe shopping with my daughters as youngsters consisted of rushing through being fitted for their shoes so they could head into the larger sizes and don the more extravagant, wondrous ladies footwear.  My staid shoe taste could not have ignited this primal interest. They were imbued by Cyndi Lauper's famed lyrics -Girls just wanna to have fun - as they awkwardly strutted their inner footwear fashionista.  Fancy footwear simply carries its own mystique.       

This photo reminds me of  the sliding board in Upper Darby ThomMcAn store.

Shoe shopping was great fun when I was a kid, but not because of style.  The two-story 69th Street ThomMcAn shoe store in Upper Darby was a marvel for one reason - a sliding board! While street level shopping belonged to adults, access to the children's section in the lower level was either by stairs or sliding board.  Imagine sliding into a store!  I recall cursing the very sad day when my growing foot size relegated me to street level shopping.  The thrill was truly gone.  

High heels, platform shoes (and their challenges) filled my closet floor as a teen and young adult.  I recall purchasing a particularly high pair of platform shoes in those disco pumping seventies and walking uphill to my after school job at JCPenney from the shoe store. I learned the physics of footwear quickly and painfully as I literally took one step forward, and two steps back working my way uphill.  All for fashion.

Today, it is not just high heels, but the stacked platform soles that truly elevate the wearer to wobbly heights.  The shoes beautifully elongate any leg, but a woman's ability to walk seems evermore challenged. Women walking smoothly in these shoes is a marvel.  I recall a lunchtime visit to a podiatrist when I was experiencing foot pain at work.  The doctor picked up my black patent leather pump and shook it in my direction announcing, "This is the culprit!"  Apparently my feet rebelled against the stiff, inflexibility of the fashionable heels. Curses!

The American Podiatric Medical Association web site is blunt about poor shoe choices: "Women inflict more punishment on their feet in part from improper footwear that can bring about unnecessary foot problems. Some of the problems result from high-heeled shoes (generally defined as pumps with heels of more than two inches). Doctors of podiatric medicine believe such heels are medically unsound and attribute postural and even safety problems to their use."   http://www.apma.org/MainMenu/Foot-Health/Brochures/Learn-About-Your-Feet/Footwear.aspx

Mojito by Julian Hakes

Footwear that breaks with the norm like this soleless creation by London based architect-turned-footwear designer Julian Hakes must be fodder for any podiatrist   Called "Mojito," it is a futuristic design wonder and makes me wonder what it feels like on? A girl can dream. In many ways, women's shoe fashions surely keep a steady stream of female patients flowing into podiatrists' waiting rooms.  As the song in A Chorus Line reflects, "What I did for love" could be extended to "What I did for fashion."  http://www.hakes.co.uk/

A recent NYTimes article  "Who Made That Stiletto?" notes the history of the shoe shape, with SATC costume designer Patricia Field weighing in on its place in the world of fashion. Asked if the stiletto will ever go out of style, Ms. Field remarked with aplomb, "It’s like leopard, for example. It’s a classic. Sometimes it becomes highly trendy, and sometimes it gets quieter, but it never goes away."

Junior prom heels

http://www.nytimes.com/2012/04/15/magazine/who-made-that-stiletto.html 

On prom night, my daughter and her friend giggled as they realized they had bought the same heels and implored me to take a 'shoe shot.'  It was a timeless rite of Spring as young women transformed themselves for prom night, stepping out both with high heels and expectations, all while standing on solid ground.


CNN International reporter, Anna Coren, interviewed Manolo Blahnik in March, 2012.
The 67 year old designer talks about his Sex and the City exposure in this brief video: http://www.cnn.com/video/#/video/world/2012/03/16/talk-asia-manolo-blahnik.cnn

Here is link to the transcript of the entire CNN interview with Manolo Blahnik:
http://transcripts.cnn.com/TRANSCRIPTS/1203/17/ta.01.html

You say goodbye....I say hello

A simple pleasure in life is picking up a loved one at the airport.
A complex pain in life is dropping them off at the airport.

It's not about the time of day or day of the week that inspires this post.  It's about recognizing the unexpected changes that dangle in front of you when loved ones live far away.  For me, it is having two brothers who live 5000 miles away - one on Maui and one on Big Island.  It is also about my daughter living 300 miles away at college.

The brother closest to me in age, Vincent, moved to Maui on November 1, 1978.  At the time, it was as though he was heading toward another planet. (In an effort to describe her feelings about Vincent's long distance move, my mother stated, "I hope you have children who move to Australia!" She then paused, dissatisfied that her point was not pointed enough and changed the destination: "Not Australia - To Mars!") Vincent tried to relate his move with that of our grandparents who came here from Italy in the early 20th century.  That did not, as they say, play in Peoria with my mom. 

Vincent was just shy of his 25th birthday at the time, so he has lived on Maui much longer than he did on the mainland.  I think I can say with confidence that he is staying. 

I drove him to the airport back then and recall feeling simultaneously exhilarated for him and awful for myself. I had graduated from college just a few months earlier and was upset that my expectation of spending more time with him was being squashed. I don't recall the actual goodbye at the airport or whether I stood at the gate (ah, remember those days) and waited for the plane to take off.  The searing memory for me is returning to my parents' house and seeing them crumble into tears as I walked in the door without Vincent. Talk about reality TV!  I often remind my brother he owes me one for that emotional wreckage.

My older brother, Joe, landed on the Big Island in 2000 after several years of wanderlust travel, post divorce.  I struggled to get my footing with his departure (and divorce) as well, partially because I struggled with him living so far from his incredible girls and partially because he was leaving me, too.  It took me a long time to understand that I was profoundly sad for myself.  Here was another older brother whom I treasured blowing out of Dodge.  The fact that it was also to a tremendously exotic new home sure added some spice. My life is richer because both of my brothers continue to share their lives with me and my family.  I've learned it is a simple continuation of what they did years ago when I was the pesty little sister who always wanted to be part of whatever they were doing.

I have experienced some splendid vacations in our 50th state with the added bonus of sharing it with each of my lovely brothers and, eventually, their families.  I have often said they doubled the chances of receiving visitors due to their home locations. And the once exotic long distance phone call has been trumped by today's much improved "reach out and touch" social network technology - another bonus.

However, for the real-life connection, a trip to or from the airport takes me back to my original thought.  I have written about the equal joy that anticipation brings to realization. http://asubjectforconsideration.blogspot.com/2011/07/vacation-expectation-anticipation.html  Driving to the airport to pick up either of my brothers oozes with glorious anticipation.  One voice tries to mollify my feelings with "You know, they are going to leave again."  I ignore it.  This is my moment to live in the moment. It never, ever disappoints.  

Would I like my brothers to live close by?  Definitely.
But I don't know that I would trade it for the moments we've spent together in Hawaii or here. When we visit each other, we really appreciate the time together because every moment counts. I've learned much about myself in their absence as I temper feelings of being abandoned.  Understanding their choices has come slowly but steadily.

As I rode to the airport to pick up my oldest daughter, Alison, last Friday night, a Christmas morning excitement buzzed through me.  It took some self control to not dance in place as I waited for her to appear. I reveled in all the 'candy' of the moment. Sweet indeed.  Sunday night arrived so quickly.  I find myself getting cranky even after we've enjoyed a full, long skype session because the reality of her being gone slams into me again. So, a visit home has even a stronger down side when the return trip to the airport must be made.  (Of course, she insists we drop her off at the departure curb because she does not need us to check in. Whatever.)

Photo by Idea Go of Free Digital Photos

I spoke with a friend this weekend who is anticipating her eldest child's departure for college next year. She expressed her anxiety over his leaving home and how she wants to spend this year with him. I dreaded my daughter's departure. It's hard to admit using this word but, for me, it felt like a kind of death occurred.  I am acutely aware and grateful that my child is alive, but the loss of something precious was profound. My 'mommy' time with Ali was making its biggest, and most necessary, leap yet.  To use the word death made me really understand that something had to end for the next thing to begin. 

I had to view her departure in a dark way so I could face it with no pretense.  I guess I gave myself some tough love.  Surprisingly, it opened up some necessary space in me to appreciate the emerging adult she is becoming. I guess we are both growing up in different ways.

These growing pains showed up at the airport when, to my surprise, there were no tears at the dreaded curbside goodbye.

Well, this time, anyway.

The Parenting Games

Earlier this month, the Wall Street Journal ran an article titled, “Mother Madness” authored by Erica Jong. The headline immediately grabbed my attention, but the byline equally got me as well.  It intrigued me to read something new by the famed “Fear of Flying” author. She has been a prolific novelist since her first famous book in 1973, but I have not thought about her or her writing since I read that inaugural novel.  http://online.wsj.com/article/SB10001424052748704462704575590603553674296.html?KEYWORDS=mother+madness
 

The WSJ article dives right into Jong’s observations about Attachment Parenting, and she quickly declares that today’s parents, “run themselves ragged trying to mold exceptional children.  It’s assumed that we can perfect our babies by the way we nurture them.”   This parenting style, advocated by William and Martha Sears, co-authors of “The Baby Book” (2003), promotes that parents should, as Jong notes, “wear your baby, sleep with her and attune yourself totally to her needs.”  Jong’s concern is that militant adherence to this total commitment is a form of bondage that hails from another time. She rails against the extreme.  “Giving up your life for your child creates expectations that are likely to be thwarted as the child, inevitably, attempts to detach.”  Lastly, Jong notes that “our obsession with parenting is an avoidance strategy.  It allows us to substitute our own small world for the world as a whole.”  She concludes that the larger world is the one we are sending our children into, so we should parent toward preparing them for what is real, not insulate them in the name of total nurturing.

Offering parenting advice can be such a high stakes game of right and wrong.  I can hardly think of one statement that can be universally agreed upon when it comes to parenting.  I heard Bette Midler say once, in an interview, that, “Parenting is not for sissies.”  This continues to be my favorite tip and I often invoke her line.  I did, however, appreciate Jong’s concern over parents, especially women who continue to be primary caregivers, being weighed down by, “accepting the ‘noble savage’ view of parenting with its ideals of attachment and naturalness.” Her concern of accessorizing our lives with our children rings out.

Breast feeding? Making your own baby food? Using cloth diapers?  All are choices.  Bottle feeding? Buying baby food? Disposable diapers?  More choices. Decreeing one over the other in the name of ‘good’ parenting is a slippery slope.  Yes, there is environmental correctness to some of these choices, but speaking strictly about what it is that we take on to be good parents, there should be few rules.  Loving, feeding, and clothing our children are all good starts.  But what do we really mean when we say we love our child?  Your explanation will probably differ in some ways from mine.  Multiply that by the number of parents on the earth and I’d say we are off to a rousing start of the parenting games.

I think when we support each other in our roles as parents is when we have the best shot at doing a decent job.  It does take a village.  A parent needs to know someone has their back when navigating the world with kids in tow.  I am grateful to my friends, family, neighbors and caregivers who have helped me, especially when my kids were little.  We all didn’t parent in the same way, but we felt somewhat united by this job and tried to lighten the load for one another.  I am afraid for the parent who feels isolated.  And I think sometimes that parenting books, in their earnestness to provide ‘the best advice,’ can make a parent feel insecure for not following it.  I think Jong wants to warn parents about the pitfalls of keeping too singular a focus on the job.  Life is bumpy and messy so let’s be sure our kids experience it enough to successfully function in it.

As for attachment parenting, I find myself on the 'back nine' of that route.  Learning to let go has been more of a focus. There is a fierceness to being a parent in how we try to protect our young.  Does it ever subside?  I believe it has to be re-directed.  When I really think about it, I have been at the beginning of my re-direction.  Having a child living away at college has forced me to do this. I think it all began as we started touring colleges during junior year of high school.  You begin imagining your child on a certain campus and see a glimmer of them in the faces of those university students.  Once your child is in college your emotions are with them, but let's face it, they are the sole director of their time and efforts.  Hmmmm....perhaps I could write a book about 'detachment parenting.'  Well, a few chapters anyway.

An interesting addendum to Jong’s article is one written by Molly Jong-Fast, her daughter and only child.  The title makes me smile, “Growing Up with Ma Jong.” 

http://online.wsj.com/article/SB10001424052748703805704575594213125914630.html?KEYWORDS=mother+madness

   

She writes frankly about her famous mother’s parenting noting, “To my mother and grandmother, children were the death of a dream; they were the death of one’s ambition.” Molly Jong-Fast stands in the sweet spot of understanding what challenged her mom, why she made the choices she did, and accepts all of it.  “Yes she was hippy-dippy and career –obsessed, but she worked hard to give me choices.” Not a bad review from an adult child.

Who Are You?

I love Halloween.
I don't dress up. I don't try to scare people. I don't assume a new identity.
Let's say I am a Halloween Appreciator. 

It does intrigue me to see the alter egos chosen to honor the night of fright.  What makes us choose a pop culture icon over a witch? What is the attraction to being someone or something else for a few hours?  How do we choose the face that will meet the other faux faces? 

Letting down our guard and grabbing a new identity is the stuff actors and actresses are made of, so there must be a large dose of the theater arts in each of us. But who or what we choose to try on as characterized training wheels goes right to what do we see as an alluring persona (for a few hours, anyway!) 


Philadelphia Inquirer writer Robert Strauss' article, titled "Halloween's Changing Face," notes that a cursory check of local Halloween costume retailers bore similar results. "When it comes to children's costumes, goodbye scary bats and ghosts and skeletons. Hello SpongeBob, Dora the Explorer, and Harry Potter."  The more familiar, the more desirable.

Strauss questioned Daniel Cook of the Rutgers University Dept. of Childhood Studies about the character choices kids make.  "Cook said that many parents tend to be more comfortable knowing there is an already established story line associated with characters from sources such as Disney movies and reality TV, even though those costumes convey an inherent lack of creativity."  Instead of going with creatures more indicative of Halloween's essence - ghouls, zombies and things from the netherworld - kids (and their parents) seem to lean more toward what is known.  There is a sense of fantasy because the characters probably surround the child throughout the year from movies, television, books and the like.  Cloaking themselves as a character they admire offers the sweet satisfaction of total immersion into an alter ego.http://www.philly.com/philly/entertainment/20101027_Halloween_s_changing_face__Spooky_costumes_yield_to_mass-market_characters.html#ixzz13kU5aVYK

In her post titled "Halloween Judgments," Motherlode blogger Lisa Belkin pointed out an essay written by an editor at Redbook magazine about alternative Halloween choices that work for her 7-year-old son, (diagnosed with cerebral palsy) and her daughter. The editor, Ellen Seidman, explained that after a few years of Halloween excitement turning into a night of tears for her son, a "quieter tradition" was chosen with no costume.  This flexibility made the holiday enjoyable for all.   http://parenting.blogs.nytimes.com/2010/10/08/halloween-judgments/

Enter those who see it differently.

Seidman's article brought a reader response chastising her choice as "rude, boring, and shows a lack of spirit."  The reader furthered her consternation with the idea that if no one dressed up for Halloween, then it would negate its purpose.  I learned so much from how we can all read the same thing and walk away with different interpretations.  The Motherlode blogger received close to 200 replies to her piece about the Redbook essay and the cavalcade of responses spanning from declaring the ruination of Halloween to applause for a mom considering what is helpful for her special needs child makes for some interesting reading.    

Within all of the opinions (and outrage) there was an agreement about caring; it was those who employed the sharper edges of "caring" that caused me some sadness. Overall, readers agreed that Seidman's choice showed creativity and grace, and while I bet she does not need the blogosphere's approvals, I hope they were welcomed. 

Sometimes we don't need to don a mask or costume to satisfy our curiosity about another personality.  Let's 'face' it - it's what's inside that counts.

Hovering

My email box greets me daily with a few subscription-type notices.  One I particularly enjoy is the e-magazine from my daughter's college, titled BU Today.  It goes inside campus life, both academic and social, with small, detailed views of interesting happenings. It offers quick little bites making the large community more reachable (at least to me). Today's edition contained a video segment called "You Speak" showing students replying to the question: Do you have helicopter parents, and if so, what do they do to keep tabs on you?” http://www.bu.edu/today/node/11571

Predictably, the less than two minute video of brief responses offers a broad glimpse into some students' unvarnished opinions about the amount of parental contact they receive. Between texting, email, and phone calls, reaching out and touching is more like a knee jerk reaction than a planned date on the calendar. Instantaneous gratification - today we expect it and yet we have to harness it as our college age kids work without a net.  It makes me think - do I hover?  Is the fact that I subscribe to the e-magazine for daily updates from school indirect hovering?  Can you hear the whirring of the helicopter blades? 

It makes me chuckle to recall communication with home or friends while I was in college.  The pay phone (I think it was a touch-tone but perhaps a rotary phone) at the end of the dorm hallway was used to call the outside world.  It seems strangely out of touch to consider the unpredictable nature of making or receiving a call to or from home. When the phone rang, some student who happened to be walking by or whose room was nearest to the phone would answer, check the intended call recipient's dorm room and leave a message about the call on the dorm room white board. The pony express seems quicker. My parents couldn't hover even if they wanted to.  I wonder if they knew what a blessing those pay phones really were?

Sandy Hingston, Sr. Editor at Philadelphia Magazine, ends her ten year reign as the voice of the Loco Parentis column this month.  While she will continue her work at the magazine, the editor's column has been, to use a little old publishing terminology,  put to bed.  As her son heads off to his first year of college and her daughter continues with her study abroad, Sandy gives us one more very real, often humorous, always poignant look at her family life through her well polished parenting prism. 
http://www.phillymag.com/articles/loco_parentis_moving_day/ Readers feel as though they know her kids because, well, we've been reading about them for ten years - but thankfully not in a gnawing, endless boast.  She is direct, simple, easy. I wonder, does Sandy Hingston hover?  How well adjusted must her kids be to know that their knucklehead antics, successes, failures, are all fodder for the column? That's one question I would love to have answered. Sandy makes me feel good about my daily BU Today interest.  I love her style.

While visiting colleges a couple of years ago, I was struck by how many admissions office representatives included in their "tips for college" repertoire reminders that parents should not be contacting professors about their child's grades. At first, I smugly snickered at such a preposterous idea.  But I then thought about the simplicity of a school district's online grade book system that makes it easy to check my elementary, middle, and high school student's status regarding every class assignment, test, quiz, project - anytime.  Feeding parents at the banquet of up-to-date grade results probably has nurtured the sometimes ravenous need for academic information. It also explains the need to tell parents the days of talking to the teacher are over. 

I recall one mother in a room of several hundred parents of college freshman vehemently questioning the dean during orientation about the practice of all college communication going only to her child, including grades and financial information. Included in his delicately worded incisive reply, the dean reminded the parent that the college accepted the child, not the parent. The rotors on that helicopter were duly clipped!

The dearth of parenting advice regarding how much or how little attention children should receive overwhelms while it informs. It can be exhausting. In her ample article titled "All Joy, No Fun: Why Parents Hate Parenting," New York Magazine writer Jennifer Senior addresses how parents feel about the job of raising kids.  http://nymag.com/news/features/67024/  She notes, "Children may provide unrivaled moments of joy. But they also provide unrivaled moments of frustration, tedium, anxiety, heartbreak...This makes it perfectly clear why parenting may be regarded as less fun than having dinner with friends or baking a cake. Loving one’s children and loving the act of parenting are not the same thing." Parenting - it's not for sissies.  Transforming parental love from being a director into being a guiding light - now that is magic.

I have read my share of "Now that your child is going to college" type articles. If degrees were conferred for overzealous interest in a subject, I think I could state that I have achieved some credits toward a 'Masters of Science and Art in Letting Go" on my resume.

The science involves survival. It's the rational desire to give your child the tools they need to be in the world. 

The art, however,  involves more elusive efficiency.  It's the trust you feel that your child has access to both roots and wings on their everyday journey.  

Sandy Hingston says it best at her column's conclusion as she considers her children from afar. "They can’t quit me. They were inside me once. Now I’m inside them." 

Safe landing, helicopter pilots.