Dear Kid,

When I think back to your freshman year, I’m awed and impressed by the distances you’ve covered and the discoveries you’ve made. You’ve tried new things (no, I do not want to know about all the new things you’ve tried), you’ve recognized and played to your skills and strengths. You’ve gone from the idea of who you might want to be to creating the true you that you are.

And now you are getting ready to put on a mortarboard and gown and accept the World’s Most Expensive Piece of Paper. Of course, it’s not the paper that’s important. It’s the work and the learning that went into getting that Piece of Paper. And we couldn’t be more proud.

Congratulations, kiddo. We can’t wait to see what you do next.

Love, Mom

Dear Kid,

You’re about to graduate (yeah, still struggling with that).

And you’re about to be home for a while (not a struggle at all).

So it seems prudent to review the Rules of the House (these should not be a surprise).

1. If you use it up, tell someone. Preferably someone with a piece of paper and a writing implement. Better yet, write it on the shopping list yourself.
2. Don’t use up the last of the Diet Coke.
3. Don’t use up the last of the coffee (with our stock that’s pretty much impossible).
4. Try not to be too cheerful before I’ve had coffee.
5. If you have the talent (and you do), you should play guitar and sing for your mother a few times before you disappear.
6. The Puppy is the King of the House.
7. As it turns out, Royalty doesn’t go on the furniture, is not allowed upstairs, and doesn’t get fed from the table just for looking pathetic.
8. There is a whole list of foods His Furness can no longer have. This is not a suggestion.
9. Being a member of the family means sometimes walking the Puppy. Which will make him very happy. Without fussing. Which will make everyone else very happy.
10. If you’re the last one in at night, close the garage door. I’ve already had the great pleasure of being called at 2am by the police (who told me very kindly that the garage door was open and they would wait patiently at the foot of the driveway until I closed it). I prefer to meet the police during daylight hours.
11. If you’re going to be late, let us know. We worry.
12. You are perfectly capable of making your own breakfast, lunch, and snacks (in fact you’re a very good cook). You are also very good at cleaning up after you cook. Practice these skills in a reasonable ratio (and by “reasonable” I mean 1:1)
13. Dishes go in the dishwasher. You know this. Act upon that knowledge.
14. Clean dishwashers get emptied. Act upon this knowledge too.
15. Clothing (both clean and dirty) should be stored somewhere other than the floor.
16. Helping around the house is a right, a privilege, and a responsibility.
17. You have the right to choose what is on the TV. Sometimes. Other people have this right too.
18. Yes, we are happy to help you. That does not mean we are always available to help the very second you think about whatever-it-is.
19. You have just finished exams, and graduation, and moving out, and you are doubtless exhausted. This entitles you to sleep and be slightly grumpy for a bit. That bit doesn’t last more than a couple of days.
20. We love you. That’s the most important part.

Love, Mom

Dear Kid,

Thankfulness isn’t just for Thanksgiving.

Thankfulness is an all-the-time, equal opportunity kind of thing.

As you wind down your college career (gak!), I know you’re busy thinking about how to pack all your accumulations into a car (or two), where you left the can opener, how you’re going to find time to study for finals, and why someone decided that someone should take an exam starting at 4:40pm the day before graduation (ridiculous).

I also know suspect hope that you are able to spare at least one brain cell to think about all the wonderful things that have happened over the last five years.

The really good classes, the professors that went out of their way for you, the friends you’ve made, the meals you’ve shared, the study sessions, the competitions you’ve won…the list goes on and on. I know it hasn’t all been perfect. But there’s been a lot of good.

I’m grateful for all I’ve learned from you and for all the times we’ve talked, texted, and otherwise had time together. I’m grateful for the times you’ve invited us to visit. I’m grateful for all the good, the not so good, and in betweens you’ve shared with us. Mostly, I’m incredibly grateful you’re my kid.

Take a moment of gratitude to be thankful for all you’ve experienced.

Love, Mom

Dear Kid,

I have an opinion.

And I have done the math to back it up. 

As you know, but I just found out recently, the Jets are playing hockey.

This is—obviously—wrong. Even if one isn’t a Jets (football) fan (Go Giants! Go Bengals! Go everyone!), one must acknowledge that the Jets exist (even if I’m not entirely sure what state they’re in anymore).

One should not have to hear that the Jets are playing and spend the next few minutes trying to understand that there is a Jets football team and a Jets hockey team and they are in no way related.

So I did the math.

According to My Friend the Internet, there are 30 professional basketball teams, 32 football teams, 31 hockey teams (how ridiculous to have an odd number of teams), 23 MLS teams (ditto), and 30 baseball teams for a total of 146 major league professional athletic teams in the US (and Canada).

One hundred forty-six.

Do you know how few that is? Yeah, OK, it’s 146 few. Which means there is no freaking reason on this planet that two of them have to have the same mascot name!

I propose that The Great Sports Authority (could be our friend Jenelle, might be Nike, but I’m open to suggestions) mandate a contest to see which team gets to keep the Jets moniker and which has to hold open auditions for a new mascot. I’ll have to give some thought as to how the winner should be determined (suggestions welcome here too).

Somebody really ought to be in charge of things like this.

(Can you tell I’m trying to distract myself from the fact that you’re graduating in four days?)

Love, Mom

Dear Kid,

WAIT!

STOP THE PRESSES!!!

What exactly is going on here?

How can it possibly be only 5 days until you graduate from college?

I swear it was only a week or so ago that you rode the school bus around the parking lot in preparation for attending kindergarten.

I’ve barely aged since then, so it seems impossible that you have gone from a BoyChild to a ManPerson.

(For clarity’s sake, let’s just all agree right now that even when you’re 102 you will still be my BoyChild.)

In other (less upsetting) news, there is a squirrel on the birdfeeder. (“What?” I hear you say, “Less upsetting? How could that be? You hate squirrels on the birdfeeder!”) Well, I’ll tell you. I may have come around to Grandpa’s way of thinking: it isn’t a birdfeeder—it’s a bird and squirrel feed. Problem solved.

Yes, Wallenda the Flying Squirrel is back. And while he throws off my feeder-filling schedule, he is entertaining as all get out.

Birds just fly to the feeders and help themselves.

Not so Wallenda.

Wallenda plots. Wallenda scurries. Wallenda perches in the tree, scoping out the seed and trying to use his powerful brainwaves to move the seed closer. Wallenda scampers up and down the tree looking for the best launching pad. Wallenda waits and watches and then launches himself through the air, arms and legs spread like a true flying squirrel hoping desperately to land on the birdfeeder.

Wallenda clings like a, a squirrel, and manages to hop to the top of the feeder. He slithers to the pole and then stretches waaaaaay out to reach the feeder. Lunch!

I really enjoy watching this. It’s worth refilling the feeder more often. Especially because I have no intention of moving the feeders or chopping down the tree.

You, please head back to kindergarten where you belong.

Love, Mom

Dear Kid,

Did I tell you about the Great Eyeglass Catastrophe of 2018?

It’s awful–if you have tears prepare to shed them.

As you know, my glasses belong in one of two places: in front of my eyes so I can read, or on top of my head so I can put them in front of my eyes when I need to read.

Either way, they’re handy.

Both as a vision enhancement device and as a headband.

Because I’ve worn them like this for so long, I have a heightened sense of loss when they aren’t on top of my head (like when I first wake up in the morning). So I don’t worry about them going missing. Because they don’t. Ever.

Until this past Sunday.

I was gardening, the Puppy was sleeping, the mourning dove was building a nest, and all was well with the world. Until I went inside, and discovered that my glasses

were missing.

Gone.

Not there.

I searched. I enlisted Dad in the search.

I looked inside.

I looked outside.

I looked through the garbage.

I looked through the recycling bin.

I went back over all the places I’d been. (Now you know why Dr. Seuss never wrote a book about losing a pair of glasses.)

I just kept assuming they’d show up.

Meanwhile I started wearing a pair of drugstore readers which do almost as little for my vision as they do for my fashion sense. I made an appointment to see the eye doctor.

And continued to whine about it.

So last night after dinner, Dad said he would search again. He went to the car and looked. He went to the backyard and searched. He got a rake and hunted thoroughly.

And eventually he found them.

But not exactly in the condition I’d last seen them.

I’m pretty sure I somehow lost them in the grass. Right before Dad mowed.

Did I mention I have an appointment to see the eye doctor?

Love, Mom