What a difference three years makes

I had the honor of throwing a 21st birthday party for my daughter a week or so ago. Yes, Baby Girl actually allowed her parents to join her and her friends for that right of passage. (OK, may it's because we sprung for food and drink.)

Anyway, that party jarred loose some flashbacks to her 18th birthday. She was a college freshman and her birthday happened to fall just after we'd moved her into her dorm. Better Half, Sonny Boy and I had checked into a hotel for the weekend — making for a long goodbye — and had asked Baby Girl to spend that last night at the hotel with us so we could celebrate her birthday with a breakfast before leaving — without her — for the 7-hour drive home.

She refused. "I'm bonding with my dormmates!"

I protested that she'd have all semester to bond with her dormmates. "This is your last chance to bond with your parents."

She won, and stayed in the dorm. The next morning — her birthday — Better Half, Sonny Boy and I ate breakfast at the hotel. Before leaving town, we stopped by Baby Girl's dorm to drop off birthday gifts and say goodbye.

"Aren't we going to breakfast?" She seemed genuinely shocked that we'd eaten without her.

It was a sad and strange parting and a loooong drive home that year.

This year, we actually got hugs and kisses when we left. Perhaps three years of college (replete with noisy dorms, moldy apartments and annoying roommates) have made her appreciate family just a bit. Or, perhaps it's wishful thinking on my part.

Tardy (aaaachoo) again!

When you've got two kids in college, what's one more tuition? That was my thinking when I decided last spring to go back to college to add web skills to my graphic design repertoire. Both sonny boy and baby girl were in college. At the time, he was a freshman, she was a junior, and the house was so empty it echoed.

All three of our schools started fall semester today. Having arrived fashionably tardy for the start of my spring and summer classes, I made great effort to be on time this semester. I hit campus with 10 minutes to spare. Too bad this was my first experience with the start of a traditional school year. There was absolutely no parking in my usual lot. My "spare" minutes frittered away in the line to buy my daily parking permit. Ten more minutes were spent stalking the lot for someone who might be vacating a parking space (this was crazier than a Saturday afternoon at Costco). In desperation, I tried the remote lot. Spaces galore! But, they don't call it the remote lot for nothing: This lot requires hiking up the equivalent of four flights of stairs. Can you say "out of shape"?

Plus, I must have inhaled something I'm allergic to as I huffed and puffed during the climb. Once I landed in class, the sneezing (stopped counting at 27), runny nose, watery eyes (note to self: buy waterproof mascara) began. After several minutes of attempted subtle sniffing and many strange looks from classmates, I sneaked back out the door and downed a couple antihistamines. By break time, my head was (loosely) under control. Still, classmates who had been sitting near me before the break had relocated away from me after break. Everyone must be taking those Swine Flu warnings seriously.

Not packing? No problem!

Talk about your last-minute packers. That's my son. It's 10 a.m. on the day he and his father will be leaving to drive him back to college in Texas. Has anything been packed? Heck no. Plus, the gas tank is empty and the car is still sporting summer's accumulation of debris. (Think wrinkled beach towels, football, basketball, volleyball, golf clubs, assorted food wrappers, receipts, stray shoes, half-empty water bottles, etc.)

"Not a problem, Mom." "It will only take an hour, Mom." "What's the big deal?" These are just a few of the comments from the last few days whenever I raise the subject of "Shouldn't you be packing ..."

Plans are to leave at 3 p.m. to knock out a chunk of the 23-hour, 1,500-mile slog from Southern California to East Texas. The good news is it's 11 a.m. and sonny-boy has started sorting through the stacks of clothes I piled on the balcony railing before crawling into bed at 1 a.m. For weeks I'd been asking him to help me sort through his overflowing closet for Goodwill castoffs. Guess that's not happening.

Oh, did I mention sonny-boy still has to have lunch today with a nameless friend from high school? I'll pause now and go take my blood pressure medicine. Maybe I should double up today ;-)