Studying Abroad: A Parent's Dream ... A Parent's Nightmare

My brilliant and beautiful daughter, Emily, decided to spend the second semester of her sophomore year studying abroad in France.  She is currently on her way home (most recent text was "Wow Heathrow sucks"), and I cannot wait to see her.

Yeah, she's kind of amazing ...

One of her majors (yeah, she's one of those) requires a semester abroad, and since her other major is French, it was only logical for her to go to France.  She has been in Aix-en-Provence since the end of January.

She has also traveled extensively while there, from Krakow to Dublin, from Prague to Paris, and many other places as well.  She has gained an education through the culture and historical sites that I'm sure mattered far more to her than her university classes (Jeff was psyched when she posted a pic of Camus' headstone since it meant she knew who Camus was).

She went to Auschwitz, and it hit her very hard.  I mean, you can read about the Holocaust, but to actually see where these terrible and evil things took place ... shiver.

She's had some of your standard adventures.

For example, she got sick and didn't know how to handle it (she has pretty significant asthma).  I told her there must be doctors in France, but she was just overwhelmed about the process. She figured it out eventually, though.  She sent me this pic and said, "One is an antibiotic and one is an inhaler, but that's ALL I know."

There was some drama with the prepaid credit card her father sent.  And/or her bank card working.  She was having card issues, and it's very hard to help when you're so far away.

Then there's the stuff that you don't really want to know.

The text that says, "So I just swam topless in the Mediterranean."  A disturbing lack of specifics regarding the handsome young man that is in many of her Facebook pics.  The fact that she stayed in a hostel and had bizarre encounters there with a middle-aged man named Peaches.

The fact that alcohol unquestionably fueled much of her time ...

When she sent pics like this, I missed her so much that I cried (evidently peanut butter is a rare commodity in France)

So the bottom line is that Emily had an experience that she will remember for the rest of her life.  I do not know many details, although I cannot wait to spend time Monday hearing stories, looking at pictures, and hugging her a lot.

I am aware, very well aware, that there are some stories I will not hear.  I'm okay with that.  You don't go to a different country as a beautiful 19-year-old and not have some stories.

You know the funny thing?  I think Em and I have gotten closer while she was so far away (and we were pretty close to begin with).

She had a few rough moments that necessitated hourlong text sessions that happened in the middle of the night here, when I was awake nursing Gabby. We would both text if we saw something of interest to each other. We got to FaceTime a bit (but I hate FaceTime because I hate my face, so it was minimal).

Bottom line? This was an amazing experience for Emily, and a humbling one for me as I realize that my little baby girl is really and truly grown up.  She can navigate foreign countries ... does that mean that I can nag her for leaving half-empty cups all over the house?

If you are reading this, Cookie (and I know you usually do), please don't tell me the things I don't need to know (I'm pretty sure they can't be worse than what my imagination has created), but please know that I am so looking forward to hearing about your adventures.

Oh, and it's true that absence makes the heart grow fonder.  

When You Realize Your Kids Are Growing Up ...

Motherhood is, without a doubt, the highlight of my life.

My daughters are both good, kind, bright, beautiful, amazing people, and I couldn't be more proud of them.  There is nothing I would rather do than spend time with them, to bask in their company, to enjoy every second with them ....

Except ... well, they're growing up.

Addie is in France right now.  Even before she left for her latest European venture, though, I got a taste of what the future holds.  We had plans to hang out, to go see a movie, to just spend time together, and so on right before she left.  On both occasions, she got better offers (friends, the boyfriend, and so on).

I am happy about that, believe it or not.  Addie coming out of her shell and becoming a confident young woman has been a joy to behold.

But there is a bittersweet aspect to it.  Every day that passes, every new adventure and experience, leads her further away from me, so even as I am increasingly proud of her and love her just the same as I always have, I miss the little girl who questioned how snakes were able to move when they don't have legs and who had a propensity for streaking as a toddler (she asked me recently why she's naked in so many childhood pictures ... I told her that she started every day dressed).

Of course, there are still these kinds of moments that I can reflect fondly on when she leaves for college ...

And then there is Belle, who has suddenly become "Miss Independent".

I was looking forward to spending a lot of time with Belle this summer, and when I told her this, she thought for a long moment then said, "No offense, Mommy, but I'd rather go to camp."

While she still requires our bedtime routine (which is comprised of reading books and snuggling) and we spend a lot of time together after camp gets out, Belle is clearly starting to grow up ... and it seems to be happening very quickly.  She loves to spend time with her friends, and I think that's great ... but I am starting to really miss her, strange as that probably sounds.

Belle is a character, without a doubt the funniest kid I've ever met in my life.  She also has a tremendous work ethic, which I am very proud of.  It's meant, of course, that this week of home repairs has resulted in us getting to work together on things, seeing each other in a different light.  For me, it's seeing her in a more grown-up light.

Henry even got her using the power washer, which she has a real knack for.

And so I've stopped wondering why people get the urge to have later-in-life children, why that rumor about ticking biological clocks exist.  If life circumstances were different, I would love to have another child, to be able to extend my lease on motherhood.

Except it's not really a lease, is it?  As I've learned with my own mother, it's a bond that never goes away.  It is sometimes strong and sometimes a bit frayed, but the ties between mother and child are forever.

I am more grateful than words can say for whatever higher power saw fit to bless me with my two girls.  They have made me a better person, made me laugh, made me realize the importance of appreciating every moment in life.

So even as the realization that my amazing daughters are growing up and learning to make their own ways in the world makes me sad in a way, the joy I feel when I look at them, spend time with them, even just think about them totally trumps that.

Addie and Belle, I love you more than anything in the world ... and always will.

So 34 Is When the Middle-Aged Thing Kicks In ...

I realized today that I'm getting old.

I joke all the time about how old I'm getting, give my students a hard time about the strands of gray in my hair, and tease the rookie teachers about being babes in the woods. In general, though, I feel pretty much the same as I always did, so I'd written off 34 as just another number ... until it came crashing down on me that I'm not a kid anymore.

Okay, here's what happened.

I have a lead foot. I don't mean to speed, it's just not something I pay the best attention to. I have (knock on wood) never been in a real car accident ... I just like to drive fast. And, to be fair, I don't drive anywhere near as fast as I used to (racking up the speeding tickets will do that).

I live in New Hampshire. I've been driving in snow, often quite a lot of snow, since I was sixteen. Truth be told, I love to drive in snow. Well, I did.

Until I woke up this morning, and the roads were sheets of ice, and it took me almost two hours to get to work. It then snowed all day, and the drive home ... well, they say a picture's worth a thousand words (and no, I probably should not have been taking a picture of how bad the driving was while I was actually driving).



So what happened to turn me from a lover of snow-driving to a cautious Cathy?

It's weird, but the only thing I can think of is that a couple of my friends were in a pretty bad snow-related car accident recently. I've driven in snow since, but I haven't been enjoying it as much, and today I was honestly afraid.

I went to one of those friends, Donna, for advice on which route to take home today--the flatter, longer one or the shorter, ridiculously steeper one. She voted for short and steep, so I headed out as soon as possible.

And I don't think I hit 20 MPH for the duration of that long, long back mountain road. Donna was right behind me, which I thought she realized, but once I got onto a main road that was at least moderately maintained, I got a text.

DONNA: Stay off Mountain Road. Very slippery.
KATIE: Thank you, but I was the car in front of you driving like a grandma ;)
DONNA: Okay, I did not mind.
KATIE: : )

And it hit me like a ton of breaks how fragile life is, how truly dangerous driving in snow is, and how fortunate I am to have reached the age of 34 considering the parking lot doughnuts and the reckless, unnecessary trips and the lack of understanding I had of what a responsibility driving is.

This was driven home, by the way, when I got onto another semi-back road (I had to go pick Addie up ... I didn't let her drive herself to school today) and this guy started tailgating me. Like, I have All Wheel Drive and I was slipping and sliding a bit, and this guy was so close I could not see the front of his car.

Ten years ago--heck, one year ago, I would have started driving faster because obviously the pace I was setting wasn't good enough. Today, I pulled over to the side of the road and let the guy pass me.

Yup, middle age hits at 34, if I'm any indication ... unless that's just adulthood in general catching up to me at last ;)

Gotta Love a Six-Year-Old

Belle started summer camp this week, and she absolutely loves it. It's been kind of hard as it's really hitting me how grown up my little baby is getting. Part of getting grown up is really getting a mind of her own. Belle has always known what she wants and how to get it (we make a lot of pink-hair-and-a-nose-ring-at-twelve comments about her), but the scope is getting much bigger.

They took a trip to a lake a few towns over today. She wore her bathing suit underneath her camp t-shirt and shorts, and then she went to pack her beach towel. She was dismayed that I had packed a sweatshirt as well as underwear and an extra shirt (I guess the kids wear their camp t-shirts into the water). She was furious ... she admonished me, "Mommy, I am not a baby."

Of course, when I picked her up, she was wearing the extra clothes I'd packed ;-)