October | 2015 | BulgingButtons

October 13, 2015
by BulgingButtons 2 Comments

So Many Questions on the Path to College

This business of being a parent to a senior in high school is difficult, and I don’t even have one of those kids who’s involved in a million different activities. He’s not driving, he doesn’t have a job or a girlfriend, and he doesn’t even hang out with his friends outside of school. I’m lucky. I get to actually have him around.

Ok, so it’s not like we bond over hot cocoa and play scrabble, or take long walks around the neighborhood together, but he’s here. Yes, there’s a certain amount of badgering on my part (where’s your retainer? can you please pick up that towel? when are you going to walk the dog?) and a certain amount of grunting on his part, but I know where he is and what he’s doing. What will happen this time next year? Will I be able to handle it? I only have one kid, so it’s not like anyone will step up to fill the void once he heads off to the dorms (but in what state?).

Sure, it’s true that he’s gone quite regularly (as in weekly) to spend time with his father, but somehow that’s different. For one thing I’ve had a couple of years to get used to it. For another, the longest stretch that he’s ever away is four days, every other week. I can handle that. College is a lot longer than four days, and at the end, he’s not supposed to come back. I mean to stay, anyway. At least hopefully not.

In the meantime, there’s this craziness of getting in all the applications. Frankly it’s stressing me out. Not because of the deadlines, either, because I know that if I don’t stay on him it won’t get done. What does that say about college? Following is a list of questions that trouble me. Hopefully other parents who have lived through this ~~nightmare~~ process can talk me off the ledge.

Will he be that freshman who NEVER washes his bedsheets?
Will be brush his teeth?
Will he lose his retainer the first week?
Or will he throw his retainer away?
Or will he be done with the stupid retainer by the time he goes to college?
Will he EVER call me?
Will he EVER pick up the phone when I call him?
Will he make friends?
Will he study enough?
Will he go to his classes?
Will he know enough to not schedule early morning classes?
Will he even have a choice in his schedule as a freshman?
Will there be co-ed bathrooms?
How do I feel about co-ed bathrooms?
How does he feel about co-ed bathrooms?
What will happen if he runs out of toothpaste?
Why am I so obsessed with his teeth?
Why is he so nonchalant about his teeth?
Why is he so nonchalant about deadlines?
Will he actually be admitted to a college that he really wants to go to?
Will he ever admit to being excited about any college?
How will we pay for college?
Will he receive any of these scholarships that I’m making him apply for?
How do people pay for college without getting into tremendous amounts of debt?
Will he make the most of his college experience?

and a bonus question

How will I survive this transition?

The truth of the matter is that no matter how much I worry, he’s going to do what he’s going to do. So far his choices have been mostly good. Still, I’m a mother, so that means my default mode is worry, but I need to remind myself that up until now he’s been about a million times better than I ever was at his age, and I survived college. Oh sure, there are a few instances that I will never ever admit to, but by the time I was a senior, I figured out how to get on the dean’s list (here’s the secret: don’t just do the assignments, actually go to class). But I was a SENIOR! He’s only going to be a freshman. My baby!

In the meantime, I’m going to insist on reviewing his essays before he hits the send button, and I’m going to hound him about that stupid retainer (I think I may hate it almost as much as he does). This stretch of life is a little complicated and full of unknowns, but I’m going to try my best to enjoy it, because I know it will be gone in an instant, and then there’s no going back.

October 9, 2015
by BulgingButtons 4 Comments

Feeling Invisible

I’m going to a Bar Mitzvah. I’m looking forward to seeing all my relatives and celebrating with them. I’m also looking forward to the trip back east, to the land where Autumn is an actual season. In celebration of this event (and the festivities that surround it) I decided that I might get a new outfit. Maybe. I would have to see what the store had and what my shopping tolerance was like.

Now this is a great outfit!

I had some time yesterday afternoon, so I headed over to a store at the outlet mall where I’ve had good luck in the past. I triggered the little “welcome” bell as I walked in and headed to my left. This store is split down the middle, with plus size on one side and “normal” size on the other. The fitting rooms are in the middle and the checkout is in the rear.

I veered off to my side and began to browse. I picked a few items, and expected that any moment a sales associate would be along to see how I was doing and put the items in a fitting room. I’ve shopped here before. That’s how it works. I glanced around but saw nobody, no shoppers, no employees.

I continued browsing the racks, working my way to the rear of the store. As I passed by the fitting rooms I noticed they were open, so I dropped off the items in my arms and carried on. I picked up a few more things along the way as I arrived at the sale rack, right next to the checkout. As I browsed, the two sales associates continued their conversation about vacationing with their boyfriends. How nice for them.

Meanwhile, not ten feet away, I was shopping with my arms full of merchandise.

“How are you doing today?”

“Can I help you find something in particular?”

“Would you like to try those on?”‘

“Can I put those in a fitting room for you?”

Any of those phrases would have been appropriate. Even a simple “hello” would have been nice, but nope, nothing.

Fine. I still wanted to try the clothes on, so I went back to the fitting room and proceeded to try on all nine items that I found. Naturally it took a while. In the meantime another woman came in and was trying things on. In breezed the sales associate and asked her if she was doing ok, and could she get her anything.

Love this look, and those shoes, killer.

Really?

I’m in the NEXT fitting room.

You can SEE my feet.

I’ve been in your store for nearly 45 minutes!

Am I invisible? I must be.

Fortunately I didn’t love anything I tried on, because at that point I would have hated actually buying anything there.

I got dressed, left the fitting room, and walked out. And no, I was not acknowledged then either.

I left with a bad taste in my mouth. Shopping is difficult enough for me. How hard would it have been for either of the associates to just say hello? Retail is a service industry, it requires that you put on a smile and be nice, even if you’re faking it. I couldn’t help but wonder if it was because I’m fat. Was the other shopper trying on items from the “normal” sized collection? Is that why she received help and I did not? What else could it be? I wasn’t rude. I don’t look homeless. What then?

I’m a little embarrassed by how much the incident hurt my feelings. I felt devalued as an individual, which is silly because I know it wasn’t about me at all. I know I’m friendly. I know I’m approachable. I know I have worth. Still, I felt invisible, and that’s a terrible way to feel.

October 8, 2015
by BulgingButtons 2 Comments

My Son is the Prince of Procrastination

I shouldn’t be surprised. He’s been raised by me, and I’m the queen.

This business of applying for colleges and scholarship programs has been slowly driving me mad. You see, there are deadlines to follow. Lots of them. Deadlines for registering for tests, deadlines for applications for financial aid, deadlines for submitting letters of reference… more deadlines than I’ve ever encountered in my life.

The nefarious thing about these deadlines is that my son seems only vaguely aware of them (or not – in some cases he’s completely clueless). I want to shake him. I want to shout at him. I want to yell, “WAKE UP!” but I know that none of these strategies will prove helpful in any way.

Instead, I’ve taken it upon myself to become an internet sleuth on a mission. I will hunt down and find all those pieces and parts, and I will hover over this giant man-child like a grumpy drill sergeant until he completes them all.

I understand that this is “enabling” behavior, but if it means “enabling” him to attend college without breaking the bank or going into massive debt for the next several decades, I’m okay with it.

I see myself as something of a coach in this process. A big, bossy coach, with an annoying whistle ready to blow in his ear at any moment.