This week, my husband and I experienced a first: we moved a child into college. (Which is kinda funny, considering all our kids have had varying levels of higher education, and he’s our fourth.)
We did all the things: stopped at Walmart enroute to purchase last minute accouterments (fan, drying rack, flip-flops, trash can), stressed over directions, asked directions, got checked in, used one of the giant hampers on wheels to haul all his stuff in, and struck up random conversations with other parents.
His room is on the first floor of one of the dozens of Hogwarty-type dorms. His dorm is co-ed, a blend of first-year students, transfer students, and a living learning community (that he’s part of).
When we got to his room, we discovered his roommate motionless on the top bunk. When my son greeted him, the guy just grunted. At first, I thought he was just rude, but then when he sat up, rumbled, disoriented, and vacant-eyed, I thought he might be sick. He assured me he wasn’t, but he still seemed confused. He left to shower then, and when he came back, he was a different person: super polite, cheerful, and helpful. And then I realized he’d just been sound asleep, poor kid!
While my husband moved the car to a new parking lot, I helped my son wash out his drawers and closet, advised him on how to arrange furniture, and watched him string twinkle lights. Then I sat on a chair in front of the window fans and tossed encouragements his way.
By the time we were done, the tiny room was actually kinda cute. (I’m pretty sure it looks the best it’s gonna look for the whole rest of the year.)
Famished, we hit up one of the dining halls.
It was $17/person for all-you-can-eat, so we hung out for a bit, people watching and encouraging our son to eat more, more, more. (His meal plan is limited, so he’s gonna have to learn to eat strategically and with gusto.)
Over the last couple days, we’ve been peppering him with last-minute wisdom nuggets:
- Keep your meds out of sight.
- Study in the library.
- Get a haircut.
- Figure out the bus system and transportation for getting home.
- Don’t get sucked into all-night video game marathons unless you’ve time budgeted for them.
- Regarding homework, front-load your semester.
- Research scholarships for next year.
- Socially speaking, capitalize on the first two weeks when everyone’s most open to meeting people.
- Walk the campus to figure out where your classes are held.
- Work really, really hard.
We said our farewells, and then our son went one way, and my husband and I headed the other, back across the drill field where guns were being waved about and a marching band was tootling.
My husband needed a nap, so we sat down under a tree and that’s when I felt something on my ankle. When I looked down, I saw a giant caterpillar affixed to my shoe.
I have never kicked off a shoe so fast in my life, and I didn’t re-enter my body for a good five minutes.
P.S. No, I’m not sad that he’s off at school. (I went through that when he left for his summer internship.) Mostly, I’m just super excited about all the crazy wonderful opportunities he has at his fingertips. I’m pretty sure he’s gonna love it.
This same time, years previous: the meaning of life, answered, the quotidian (8.21.23), the dairy and cheese report, the coronavirus diaries: week 76, peach fruit leather, the quotidian (8.20.18), the quotidian (8.21.17), a new room, sundried tomato and basil pesto torte, on unschooling and parental comfort level, stewed greens with tomato and chili, photo shoot.
