Friday Five: What I'm Missing

My daughter and son both moved to grad school recently. Here’s what I’m missing.

1. Girl time. My daughter Ariel and I always used to talk while we did manis and pedis. Now, I’m not sure what the point is. And, of course, now that I don’t care, my nails look gorgeous.

2. Eaters. Okay, this is mostly my son Luke. But, wow, do we have leftovers! I made a “normal” amount of herbed chicken last week, and I’m still trying to pawn it off as lunches and snacks on the remaining kids. “Look, nachos with extra protein!”

3. Chemistry explanations for normal life. Luke’s the only person I know who can make salad dressings that don’t separate—apparently, you need the proper amount of binder (?). But, he’s still my go-to guy for getting stains out. Email from me: “Hey, Luke, how do get price tag glue off of fabric?” Reply: “Rubbing Alcohol.”

4. Thrifting. Ariel is an expert thrift shopper. When I walk into a thrift store, I’m overwhelmed by the racks of disorganized chaos (and the weird smell). So I walk behind her while she picks over the racks and hands things to me to try on. When I try picking something off the rack, this is what happens. She raises an eyebrow and says, “That’s 1980s. You know that, right?” Me, “Of course, I do, baby. I was just…testing you.”

5. Quiet. Before we had six people in a small house, which meant we were always bumping into each other. Literally and figuratively. Now everyone has their own space. I feel like we’ve morphed from Toula’s family in My Big Fat Greek Wedding where everyone was into each other’s business into Ian’s family where they sip brandy and you can hear a pin drop.

Okay, not quite that quiet. We still have two teenage boys, a Lab, a bird, a hamster, and two guinea pigs. Not even close to that quiet. 

N.B. If you haven't visited "Writerly Wednesday" on Crystal Collier's blog, there's still a chance to play "Two Truths and a Lie" and win swag.

This image has nothing to do with my post, but I couldn't help posting it. It's amazing, and I love raptors. The photo is by Martin Falbisoner and is courtesy of Wikimedia

Moving Out

This week brought a major change to our lives. Our oldest child Luke moved out. Now we’ve been very spoiled. Our kids have been able to live with us at home while they attended college. (A branch of the University of Tennessee is only a few miles from our home.) And the kids decided to attend there while living at home and thus avoid student loan debt. So we got four more years than most parents get.

But this spring Luke and Ariel both graduated. And Monday, Luke moved to Knoxville to begin working on his PhD in chemistry, focusing on organo-metallics (making an organic molecule with a metal in it).

Of course, the move didn’t go quite like Luke thought. He’d done some sorting and packing in the days before his move, but he didn’t realize he had to pack everything or how long it would take. By lunchtime, Cal and I began helping.

And then, I mentioned to Jacob that the sooner Luke was out of the room, the sooner Jake could move in. (Jake and Matthew have shared a room their entire lives.) At that point, packing went really quickly—Jake is goal-oriented—he put Luke’s stuff in a box, taped it, scribbled a label, and moved it out. So we loaded up our truck and Luke’s car and headed north.

Here’s a photo.

I'm not sure why he likes that hat. It makes him look like Che Guevara, which he thinks is absolutely hilarious.

When we knocked on the door of Luke’s apartment (he’s sharing with two other grad students), braced myself for a grimy mess. A twenty-something guy with curly hair opened the door and invited us in. The apartment was neat and clean. Even the counters and the bathrooms were spotless. I’m still in shock. And I’m wondering if I can hire them.

As for Luke, he’s fine. I talked with him briefly on Friday. According to Luke, work is good, the apartment is good, his roommates are good, and cooking for himself is good. Then, I passed the phone to Cal and they spend fifteen minutes discussing the last Yankees’ game. Yep, everything is good.

Goodwill, Grad School, and Vampires

It’s been a whole week since I’ve blogged. I don’t know if that’s ever happened before. Even when we go on vacation, I usually post pictures.

The good thing is that nothing bad has happened to me. Things have just gotten even busier than before (didn’t know that was possible). Here’s what’s been going on.

1. My parents are moving, so I’ve been helping them pack and thinking how grateful I am that it’s not me who’s moving. Though I’m jealous of the opportunity to cull:

My mom: Do you think I need to keep this?

Me: Have you used it in the last year?

My mom: No.

Me: It gets packed in the going-to-Goodwill box.

2. Luke and Ariel are preparing to visit graduate schools. Next weekend, Luke’s visiting University of Tennessee, Knoxville, and Ariel’s visiting Emory. Now I have to explain to people what my kids are going to study.

Me: Luke, are you studying those cage things that tie things together?

Luke: You mean ligands?

Me: Yeah.

Luke: No.

Me: Oh…

Luke: I’m studying organo-metallic catalysts.

I turn to Ariel.

Me: Ariel, so when people ask what you’re studying…

Ar: Math.

Me: Right. So I can say complex analysis.

Ar nods.

Me: Are there any practical applications?

Ar: I hope not.

3. I’ve been editing my third novel in Screwing Up Time series. Why is it that even though I know it’s the first edit after the first draft, I still hope that nothing needs to be changed? I find myself muttering and blaming my characters. Hmm...When my kids go to grad school and people ask what their mom does, will they say, “She grumbles and talks to herself”?

4. And last of all, I’ve been reading The Historian for my writers’ reading group. Normally, I’d never choose to read a vampire book. In fact, I’d usually view it as a literary punishment akin to reading James Joyce, but I’m loving this one.

I Should Go to Grad School

Two of my kids are graduating from college in the spring. So, they’re in the process of applying to grad school. (Luke in chemistry, and Ariel in math.)

So they’ve been working on everything from personal statements, which are the equivalent of why-you-want-me-in-your-program, to curricula vitae, which is everything-I’ve-ever-done-that’s-vaguely-relevant to why-you-want-me-in-your-program. And, of course, they’ve taken the GRE.

And they’ve been getting emails. Luke’s are from chemistry departments. Ariel’s getting spammed. Recently, she got an email from the University of Colorado encouraging her to apply to their Quantitative Biology program. She said, “Shoot me now,” even though they were offering buckets of money. Matt said, “Does that mean you’d be counting sheep?” Ariel moaned about another program wanting to use her for her math skills. As a parent, that doesn’t sound so bad to me—not when there are buckets of money involved. I wish someone would want to use my mad math skills.

Lately, Ariel’s been getting lots emails from engineering programs. They all start, “Congratulations on your interest in graduate engineering.” She now talks back to the spam—“I never, ever said I was interested in engineering.” I said, “Well, at least, they don’t want you for your math skills. They want you because you’re a girl. Diversity.” I wonder if they’d give her buckets of money. Maybe I should apply to grad school. I could do Quantitative English. I’d love to be paid to count poems.

Falling into a Hamper

I have a college senior who’s preparing for grad school. This particular very bright child (who will remain nameless) said, “When I finish grad school, I can’t take any more classes.”

Me: Uh, yeah, that’s sort of the point. You teach.

Child: But I want to take more classes.

Me: Why?

Child: Because I want to learn more.

Me: I believe you can sit in/take classes at the university where you teach.

Child: Really?! Could I get another degree?

Me: I suppose.

Apparently, this child wants to be an eternal student, which I sort of understand—we should all want to learn more and more, to the point of becoming autodidacts.

Of course, this is also the child who (just last night) sat on an open hamper, fell in, and had to be rescued—so maybe a course in common sense would help.

BTW, if you’d like to see the cover of my new novel, visit here.