Saturday August 28, 2004

Pitch Black at 8 PM

Time is passing, and despite the heat and humidity, summer is almost over.

Most significantly, we took my Lizzie to college yesterday... and left her there.

I'm still in something of a state of shock. The actually dropping-off part was easy enough. Some nice kid helped Marta and Lizzie carry everything up to her third floor room while I circled the campus looking for a parking space, so I dodged a bullet on that one. (You see, the set of stuff contained in 'everything' is much heavier, high-tech-er, and more expensive than the clock radio I showed up with twenty-seven years ago!) When I got there, Marta was lining the drawers with some kind of drawer-liner-paper, and unpacking the suitcases. After I returned from a long expedition in search of a men's room on the girl's floor, I occupied myself by sort of pacing around the small double, trying to stay out of the way. My interpretation of being helpful and parental, supportive but not intrusive. Shortly thereafter, Lizzie announced "okay guys, we're in good shape here, time for you to go!"

(Actually, I forgot to mention the part where I sprinkled her room with holy water and chanted the Troparion of Theophany, "When Thou, O Lord, wast baptized in the Jordan...", which you sing at house blessings. I think she threw us out just after that.)

So that part was mercifully easy.

In fact, the only crises of the day were not having a co-ax cable to plug in the TV/DVD player (see what I mean?) or a cord to hook up the phone. (Obviously not a big deal since she has a brand new cell phone and unlimited mobile-to-mobile minutes.)

There have been a few more crises since -- I won't go through the list, 'cause what could be more horrible than having your new friends read about you in your dad's blog (kind of the 21st century equivalent of him showing them your baby pictures) -- but I think they've taken a bigger toll on me than on Lizzie. On Marta too. (Not sure where Joe and the dog stand on the whole thing.) Suffice it to say that it's harder sending your kid off to college than it is going yourself. By an order of magnitude.

Anyway, the nice folks in her dorm handed me their newsletter as they pointed us back to the parking lot. And included in the advice from parents past was a book recommendation, Don't Tell Me What to Do, Just Send Money: The Essential Parenting Guide to the College Years by Helen E. Johnson and Christine Schelhas-Miller, which is now on order from Amazon.com.

If I could solve all these crises by sending money, I would. Something tells me they're going to be much harder and more interesting than that.

I'll keep you posted!

(2004-08-28 18:22:48.0) Permalink