More Downsizing

Have I mentioned that my mother- and father-in-law are moving here from Ohio?

They have lived in the house where my husband grew up for almost fifty years and are finally ready to give up being homeowners. (They reached their breaking point after the terrible cold and snow the Midwest had last winter.) Their previously active social life is dwindling. FIL says that their friends (a) have moved away, (b) don't want to drive at night, or (c) can't remember that they've made dinner plans. So they're moving east to be near their children, two of whom live in the Philly area.

We are so excited for them to arrive. My kids have not lived near grandparents since we left Washington—more than eleven years ago. I'm envious of my friends who grew up here and have family close by. Growing up, my family lived 4+ hours away from our nearest relatives. I hated that, so I wanted my kids to always live near family. And to be rooted in one place.

I've lived in so many states that it's hard to say where home is. In Massachusetts, where I went to elementary and high school? In Washington, DC, where I had my first job, met my husband, and had our children? In Philadelphia, where my kids have grown up?

(I will say that I feel like I've come home when I see a sign like this one, which are seen at the borders between towns in Massachusetts.)

Not actually from my hometown, which evidently is too small to have its sign in Google images. Source

As for my kids, I think we may have succeeded in giving them roots here. My daughter has lived in Pennsylvania since third grade and is in college in Philadelphia. My son started first grade here—and could end up at college in-state also. (Fingers crossed. He's also considering schools in California, which in theory sounds great—isn't college a great time to explore a new part of the country!—but in practice would be very hard, on his mom at least.)

Having grandparents down the road, along with the cousins who live just across the city, will make Philadelphia even more of a hometown for our family. My fondest dream is to have the kids settle here. I could babysit for them! Between the trips to exotic locales we'll be taking as retirees, of course. ;)

20 Steps to Help Your Child Get Into the Right College

1. Wait until September 27 to take a hard look at college application deadlines.
2. Discover that University of North Carolina's application deadline is October 15.
3. Realize that child needs to write a supplemental 500-word essay for the UNC app.
4. Also that the deadline to request guidance office to send a transcript was September 24.
5. Consider telling child that he is not allowed to apply to UNC.
6. Reconsider. Surely he is not the only slacker requesting transcripts late?
7. Read fine print on Carolina's website stating that electronic application must be received by October 15; transcripts and recs can be sent later.
8. Celebratory high-five with child.
9. Attempt to help child request transcripts from guidance using Naviance (an online college application manager).
10. Fail. Apparently child failed to submit signed release form to guidance?
11. Argue with child who insists he did submit form.
12. Agree that someone screwed up and clearly it wasn't him.
13. Print form in question, sign it, and instruct him to submit ASAP.
14. Attempt to assist while child links Common App account with Naviance account.
15. Realize that it might have been a good idea to attend informational meeting at the high school re: college application process.
16. Account link successful! Teacher recommendations electronically requested! We're on a roll!
17. Leave child alone so he can start writing essay.
18. Check in an hour later. Child is lying on bed texting.
19. Go downstairs, pour large glass of wine.
20. Think about how much easier it was to apply to college in 1984.

A Little Piece of History

Have I mentioned my love of all things British?

I never miss an episode of Downton Abbey, my favorite books (Pride and Prejudice, The Pursuit of Love, anything by D. E. Stevenson) are set in England, and London is my absolute favorite city in the world.

I come by this love honestly—my grandmother, a genealogist, has been feeding it since I was a little girl. She has traced her father's family not just back to the 1600s, when our English ancestor first arrived in Virginia, but back to the Norman Conquest when a fellow called Guillaume de Pesche (I think that translates to William the Fish) landed in England with William the Conqueror.

(I love how geneologists always seem to be able to find important people in their ancestry. My grandmother claims we are connected with everyone from Charlemagne to Pocahontas.)

Anyway, Grandma has traveled to Long Melford, our ancestral village in southeast England, twice. (Use of the word pilgrimage to describe these trips is not inappropriate.) It is the type of place you picture when you are reading Anthony Trollope: a manor house, a parish church, and a main street of buildings dating back to the Middle Ages and Elizabethan times. People have lived in Melford since the Neolithic Era; the Romans built a road through it, Saxon artifacts have been found nearby, Queen Elizabeth I visited the manor, and in World War II American airmen flying B24s and B17s were billeted there. (And with that we have now officially hit each and every one of my sweet spots in British history....)

On one of her trips, Grandma bought the small piece of fabric in the picture above. According to her, it is a snippet from the curtain hanging at the altar in Westminster Abbey during Queen Elizabeth II's coronation. When the curtain started to show its age, it was divided among parish churches throughout England. The church in Long Melford cut their piece into 6-inch swatches and sold them to raise funds (and American tourists like Grandma snapped them right up).

I'm starting to feel like I'm describing a holy relic:  "Yes, this is a lock of hair from Saint Ursula!"   Who knows—maybe the fabric has spent more time in Marks and Spencer than it has in Westminster. I don't want to know if it has.

I'm just happy to have a little piece of England on the wall.

Road Trip!

Just back from a trip to the Midwest to take a last-minute look at two colleges my son is considering. You'll be pleased to know that he eliminated a moderately priced match school and added an expensive reach.

The people in the Midwest are so friendly. Maybe I'm just jaded from growing up in New England and many years spent in Washington and Philadelphia, but I could not believe how many people struck up conversations with us and seemed genuinely interested in our trip.

We met the nicest couple who told us all about their bike trips through France. Evidently they liked to pedal between villages with absolutely no plan for where to eat or sleep. This meant several late-evening rides to the next village to look for a hotel with a room. I could tell my husband was liking the sound of this, so I made sure to squelch his nascent plans quickly. I could get behind a biking trip, although a walking tour is probably more my speed (see what I did there?). But there is no way on God's green earth that I will be participating in any situation where it is unclear if a bed will be available at night.

We got to make a quick stop in Chicago. I love that city.

And the common app essay is now written, thanks to a four-hour train ride. One essay down, (at least) ten more to go!

Back to School

One great thing about having older kids is that shopping for school supplies is ridiculously easy now.

Then:

• A two-page supply list for each kid
• At least an hour at Staples/Walmart, with a side trip to Walmart/Staples for items we couldn't find at the first stop
• A cart literally heaped with tissues, notebook paper, pack of exactly three glue sticks, dry erase markers, pencils, the largest possible 3-ring binder, paper, index cards, 3-hole punch
• At least one tantrum (mine)
• Total cost of $119, plus future therapy bills for the kids

Now:

• Three 1-inch binders and a pack of mechanical pencils
• Total cost of $18
• Only a little PTSD

Who said having teenagers was hard?

We actually did have to make two stops this year. When we went to get in line to pay at Staples, there was one—one!—cash register open, and a line that stretched all the way to the back of the store. On the Sunday afternoon before the first day of school! Thank goodness we had invested approximately three minutes choosing the binders/pencils, which made it easy to simply put down our basket and leave. I felt horrible for the families with the hugely piled carts...once you've located each and every requested item, and said no to an equal number of extras, how can you possibly walk away? And do it all again somewhere else? 

Last First Day

This feels like a year with lots of lasts.

I just sent my high school senior off for his first day of school. No bus stop this year—he is driving. (Actually, he is circling our neighborhood to pick up a carload of friends, then heading over to school. I have instructed him to drive very carefully, so as not to risk the health of his passengers, who today include two key players on our high school football team.)

As much as I have looked forward to school starting, and to getting back into a routine, I'm melancholy this morning. Where did the time go? It is a matter of months before we pack my son up and send him to college...and a 20-year chapter of my life closes.

Last year, when my daughter left for college, I read an op-ed by Michael Gerson that captured perfectly how I was feeling.

Parenthood offers many lessons in patience and sacrifice. But ultimately, it is a lesson in humility. The very best thing about your life is a short stage in someone else's story. And it is enough.

So today, the last first day of school. And I am willing time to go just a little slower, and savoring these last few months...of washing load after load of laundry, of running shoes left in the middle of the floor, of insanely big grocery bills, of protein shakes, of late nights waiting for the front door to open...and of a closeness with this son that will pass way, way too soon.

Am I Stuck in 2002?

So I've recently entered the wonderful world of Pinterest. (Check out my boards!)

I literally spent 8 hours yesterday pinning various rooms I liked, and there's clearly a common denominator, which is...I need a new house. Looking over the pictures I found, I'm not even sure whether I was pinning decor or just really big windows, LOL.

We live in a big, old (1920s) house with a circa 1990 addition:

Can you see the bricks? And the laurel?

Anyway, it is in no way a light-filled house. It is also much too big for our family--with one child in college, there are only three of us living in this five-bedroom house and we really only use a few of the rooms. And the addition means that the kitchen is completely an interior room...and dark.

As for the decor...well, see for yourself:

Honestly, I'm not sure my carefully chosen colors (sage green, red, midnight blue, and pale yellow) were ever in style...even in 2002. Is it any wonder that every one of my pins shows an all-white or beige room? I am thinking (hoping?) that repainting in a neutral, and replacing the rug in the top photo above, would go a long way toward calming things down.

And maybe—someday—we will downsize into the 2015 era home of my dreams (which I will not have to redecorate until at least 2023)!

Family...and Hair

My sister and I drove up to New York over the weekend for a family gathering. There are seven cousins and we are spread out all over the east coast (one cousin lives in Europe), so it is rare for us all to be in one place.

We are a family of redheads. In my dad's generation, all three siblings had red hair; in mine, five of seven. (Among our children, only two of twelve are redheads. Are we dying out? Thank God, science says no.)

It is a family of big personalities, big drinking, and big hair. At least one cousin at any given time has long hair, and when it is long, if it goes unchecked, it is definitely big. Bushy doesn't even begin to cover it. And do other families talk about hair a lot? Somehow we always seem to...maybe because there's just so much of it!

(My sister and I, who have been blowing out our curly hair for years now, tried to explain how much easier it is to maintain a straight hairstyle. I spend about 45 minutes, two or three times a week, washing/drying/flat ironing my hair. On days I don't wash it, I comb it. This requires 30 seconds at most. And I never have to to leave the house with wet hair...which happened every day when I wore it curly. My cousins seemed unconvinced.)

Aside from being—for once—in a majority redhead population, there is something so comforting, and comfortable, about seeing my cousins. I look at them and see my sister and myself in their features, as well as bits and pieces of our parents and grandparents. We compare memories and keep up traditions, the favorite a sea shanty sung holding heads in a circle (this is generally done only after a few drinks). We have sung this song as toddlers perched on phone books at the dining room table and as embarrassed teens. As adults we sing and remember those no longer with us, holding on to a tradition that we are passing on to our own children.

It may (I hope it won't) be another 10 years before we all see each other again. Until then I'll be remembering.

I'm a deep water sailor just in from Hong Kong
Way, hey, blow the man down
If you give me some grog, I'll sing you a song
Give me some time to blow the man down

A Is for...

Ankle. It is improving...slowly. I still can't walk any real distance on it, though. And there is an ominous popping when I extend my foot. I'm ignoring that for now.

Anniversary! We celebrated 22 years together last Friday with a movie (Spy, liked it), dinner (Barbuzzo, food was fab), and overnight in the city (Bellevue, has seen better days). My daughter was quite entertained by the fact that we were actually out fairly late (still at dinner at 11 pm!).

Anxiety. Does anyone else worry like this? I cannot sleep if one of the kids is out and expected home. And this summer, one or both kids are out pretty much every night. I particularly worry about my 19 year old. She is in the city until late two nights a week and I am refreshing the train system app about every 3 minutes to see exactly where the train is. And texting her: "Are you on the train yet?" Etc. As much as I love having her home, my worry is less when she is at school and I don't know exactly what she is doing. Which is completely irrational, I know.

Arrivederci. Said goodbye yesterday to a friend who is moving away. She and her husband are downsizing to a smaller home in a college town a few hours from here. I'm so sad to see her go...even as I am happy to see her starting a new adventure! I do envy the fact that she has had a chance to really go through all her "stuff" and pare down...something we really need to do. In 11 years we have accumulated so much junk in attic and basement.

All right...time to shower and get started on my day! Happy Tuesday, y'all.