Family in the Digital Age

Sorry to have been so silent for the last month; even though the semester ended for me on April 26th, I was really tired when it did end and I just didn't feel like writing. So, let's see. What have I been doing for the last month? Well, I'm getting ready for my Ireland study abroad trip, have been home a couple of times, started working full-time in the English department office, then dropped down to part-time for two weeks (this and next) because of my summer school class for my study abroad trip; I leave for Ireland in 10 days!!! I'm also working on paleography and Latin with my department head/faculty mentor (which is awesome for a nerd like me), writing conference abstracts to submit for the fall, and oh, have I mentioned that I'm going abroad in 10 days? Super, super excited about that! Hopefully I'll get to a computer a few times while I'm there to update, but if not, there will be lots of pictures when I get back. Needless to say, however, my life is not dull :)

However, I have another reason for writing tonight other than catching my friends far away up on my terribly exciting life. My grandparents have joined the digital age! Now, some people might want to hide their online activity from their grandparents, but I try not to write anything that I wouldn't want them to read anyway. So in honor of their recent technological leap, I'm going to indulge myself and tell the internet about how wonderful these two people are, even though it will embarrass them (I will, however, respect their privacy and not post a picture of the three of us, no matter how badly I want to).

There are so many people who have influenced me in the last 23 years, but my Grandma and Grandpa are the twin pillars who, along with my mom and dad, are always there, supporting and encouraging me. In all of my childhood memories, we are physically close to each other:

I remember sitting with Grandpa in his big brown chair to watch cooking shows, then practicing peeling potatoes with his hand over mine, guiding the peeler.

I remember Grandma sitting on their guest room (the "cherry bedroom") floor, letting me do horrible things to her perm with a spray bottle of water, a comb and her amazing collection of scarves, playing beauty shop.

I remember Grandpa sitting next to me on the piano bench, listening to me play and reading the music along with me, helping me when I hit a hard few bars.

I remember Grandma sleeping in the cherry bedroom bed with me during my sleepovers almost every weekend, singing songs and reading stories so I'd go to sleep quickly.

These are just a few of the million moments, big and small, that I've shared with my grandparents. I've always known I can count on Grandma and Grandpa to be there for concerts, recitals, and graduations, even if they don't care about the even itself; they come because they care about me and being supportive. They have always been close by, and now that they have internet and a webcam, we can skype since I'm now 4 hours away. It's not quite the same thing as being in the same room, but being able see their wonderful faces on my computer screen runs a close second. So, Grandma and Grandpa, welcome to the internet! I'm glad you've joined the digital age!

Taken on the USS Yorktown the day after Thanksgiving

The man in the middle of the above picture is my wonderful Grandpa, the man I'm closest to next to my Daddy. We've always had a special relationship, ever since he retired 2 weeks after I was born. I learned to cook standing on a chair next to him, wearing his too-big aprons that he kept in a special drawer in his dresser. We watched cooking shows together, especially Justin Wilson, the Cajun chef ("Ah gawr-an-tee!"), sitting in his brown recliner together. He taught me how to peel potatoes just right and passed down his mother's recipe for pasty.

He's also a musician, playing the trumpet and piano. When I was in middle school, he took me to my piano lessons every week and in college, I knew he was in the audience for every concert and voice recital I participated in. Now that I'm singing for the CSA music ministry, I get to talk to him about the music we do and my own development as a singer (by the way, that's Catholic Student Association, not Confederate States of America... because that is a distinction that has to be made down here).

The family's trip down here for Thanksgiving was particularly special because on Friday, he took all 11 of us to the USS Yorktown, an aircraft carrier like the one he served on during the Korean War. We climbed all over the ship together and I understood a little better all the stories I've heard him tell for years about his time on the Kearsarge. As we walked the decks, I watched him travel back in time to when he was about my age and relive the memories. At one point, towards the end of our visit to the ship, just after he'd seen the memorial to those who had served on his ship and died during the Korean War, I couldn't think of anything to say, so I just slipped my hand into his and he held it pretty tight for a few minutes. I think it's safe to say that we have a pretty tight bond, and I am so glad that we got to share that day with each other.

I wish I had space to write about all the interesting things my grandpa has done. He and my grandma have some wild stories about their early marriage when they lived in Chicago, and they and my grandpa's sister (who has since passed, but was very religious when I knew her) would go out on the town. He worked for the government for years, in computers when the industry was just being developed. They moved down to NC from Washington in the 70s and he and Grandma are the original owners of their house.

I also don't have space to list all the things he's done for me, as he's been financially as well as emotionally supportive. No matter what I'm doing, both of them are incredibly interested and supportive of everything I try. This weekend, we were going somewhere together and talking about grad school. Grandpa told me how proud he was of me for what I'm doing and said that he thinks it's great that, if I go on and do a Ph.D., I'll be the first doctor in the family. Even though he didn't finish college himself, he's incredibly smart and encourages education. Which is good, since I'm planning to make that my career :)

Yes, I am one blessed lady.

Things I Love Thursday: Thanksgiving edition

Pat and Erin in August

(I'm pretty sure she doesn't read this blog, but I wanted to write this anyway)

This year, just like every year, I'm thankful for my sweet family (who came down here, which saved me a trip-they rock!), old and new friends, and all the blessings in my wonderful life. But this year, I want to call special attention to the lovely girl in the picture above.

I've known her since early high school; her family has gone to my church for a long time. This summer, she and my brother started dating and before too long, I think I'll have a new sister (I promise I'm not jumping the gun-both families know they're planning this :) ).

She comes down to see us most weekends and what I love is that even when Pat can't be around because of school commitments, we have a lot of fun by ourselves. We've had beach days and movie nights, shared pots of coffee and bottles of wine-she's a fun chick and we're developing a wonderful friendship. Erin fits right into our family and I'm glad that Pat picked her.

Even though realization that my brother seriously dating someone means that I'm an adult (a fact which is starting to become less scary as I adjust to being on my own) was kind of terrifying at first, Erin couldn't be a better friend and eventually, sister.

My dad is the reason I'm not married yet

I realize that that statement makes it sound like he stands at the door with a shotgun every time I bring a date home and I can neither confirm nor deny that supposition... just kidding. I realized tonight, though, while talking with some of the girls in my program, that it is true that my dad's the reason I'm not married yet, but the reasons aren't bad. Here's why:

1. My dad is supportive. Totally. On Monday night, I called him to tell him about a presentation I did and we ended up talking about class. Now, Daddy's an engineer, so Victorian literary criticism and theory isn't exactly his thing. But it is mine, so he listened while I went on about what an exciting class it was. And I'm realizing that because I've chosen such a highly competitive profession (the term "publish or perish" exists for a reason), I'm going to need a spouse who's incredibly supportive.

2. My dad isn't afraid of sacrifice. Ever since I can remember, he's worked for pharmaceutical companies, which means that buyouts happen a lot, so his job changes too. Right now, he's working an hour away from where my family lives because my mom and brothers are at good schools and they decided not to uproot the family this year. I think that's pretty awesome.

3. My dad is calm. Now, most of the time I pride myself on thinking and acting logically, but I do have a slightly dramatic bent to my personality, so sometimes I need to freak out. Like when I got that horrible sunburn the other week: I called him crying and yelling because it hurt so bad. He listened, then calmly told me what to do to make it better and called back the next morning to check on me. And I was a little better physically, but it just helped to have someone who could be logical so I could just react. This also ties in with number 1 above-I'm sure my freaking-out days won't be over when I get whatever degree I end up with, so I'll need someone to balance me out when I'm upset.

4. My dad is totally, completely, 100% in love with my mom. She is definitely the most important thing in his life and it's really sweet to watch the two of them. They are human, so their relationship isn't perfect, but it's a good one and they're good together. And really, more than anything, that's what I want.

So my dad is the reason that I'm not married yet, because I haven't found anyone so far who can live up to the ideal he's given me. But whenever I find him, I know it will be worth it.

One of the 8 million reasons I love Joe

Joe is number 3 of 5, the middle boy in our house. He's also known as "Big J" or, when writing "J"-Jack is "Little J" and "j". Anyway, our birthdays are 4 years and 363 days apart. He came home from the hospital on my 5th birthday, so we've always had a special bond. As evidence, here's our facebook conversation from this evening:

Me

you know, just chillin out, maxin, relaxin all cool

Joe

taking part in recreational sporting events outside of the establishment where you receive and education?

Me

when several young hoodlums who had malicious intent started harassing the individuals who reside concurrent to my place of residence

Joe

my guardian was alarmed at this peril and felt it was in my best interest to reside with my mother's brother in another part of the country.

Me

when i arrived, i motioned for a vehicle wherein to be transported to my uncle's place of residence and noticed that the identifying plate on the vehicle bore the adjective "fresh" and the gentleman driving had a curious pair of novelty dice hanging from his mirror

Joe

I, however, being in somewhat of haste, decided to pay no mind to the novelty dice and request my chauffeur to proceed to my new place of residence

Me

we arrived at said residence between seven and eight o'clock pm, and as I exited the vehicle, I bid the chauffeur farewell and proceeded to examine the luxuriousness of my new dwelling place. I truly felt like a prince arriving in his own kingdom

Yes, we took the lyrics to the Fresh Prince of Bel Air theme song and put them into proper English. Special is one way to describe us!

Bittersweet

Picture from our March photoshoot with Kellie

It's not quite 10:00 and I'm sitting in my living room. My homework is done (for tomorrow, anyway), my apartment is clean, my lunch is made for tomorrow and all I have to do is take a shower before I go to bed. It's pretty serene around here; the neighborhood is quiet and indoors, the dishwasher is humming in the background as my keyboard clicks. Today was long - not bad, just long - and coming home to a house that is just as I left it is nice. As much as I liked having roommates, right now I'm really enjoying not having them. I think it's because so much in my life has changed: new city, new program, new friends, new job, new church; getting used to someone else's idiosyncrasies would be really hard.

But then, at the same time, it can be hard to be here and not at home. I called home tonight and everyone piled on my parents' bed because I was on speaker phone. Jack told me a joke, Tim told me about all his new football gear, and they came in and out as I talked to my parents for a while. My parents' house is definitely more chaotic than my apartment, but it's a good, loving kind. I called my mom's parents tonight too; they really miss me, and I miss them. I can tell, though, because any time I call, they both get on the phone and try to cram as much as they can into a 30 or 40 minute conversation. It's funny how you can take things like that for granted until they mean so much more because you're 4 hours away.

On a different (and less sad) note, Jack's really starting to develop a little-boy sense of humor. The picture above is the one on my laptop and when I first downloaded it, the file was so big that it was really zoomed in. On Jack's nose. Which had boogers in it. So of course I had to tell him that tonight on the phone and he giggled and giggled. I can't wait to see that in person.

Such, though, is the beauty of this technological age. My parents are getting a webcam so that we can Skype and Mom and I were talking about that the other day. Mom told me that in the 50s, when my Grandma and Grandpa moved from California to Chicago, Grandma had to write letters to her family because no one they knew could afford long-distance phone calls. When Grandma's dad died, she got a telegraph. And here I am, just 2 generations later, spending a Saturday morning Skyping with my friend in Italy. Craziness.

Jack on names

Yesterday in the car, coming back from downtown:

Jack: Mom, why didn't you name me Troodon (apparently his new favorite dinosaur)?

Mom: Umm.... well, it was on the list, but we liked John better.

Jack: Oh. Well, do me a favor. Start calling me Donny from now on, OK? Donny, like short for Troodon.

That child does beat all :)

Jack on leaving me here

Me (walking into my parents' room at the beach house and finding the bed trashed): Dude, you have totally destroyed this room!

Jack: Dude, you have totally destroyed my life!

Mom: Jack, that's not nice. You're going to miss her when we leave her here on Friday.

Jack (matter of factly): Mom, I know. I already cry in the night about it, OK?

Dad on House Hunters

Me: "I'm soooo tired. But I want to watch the end of this episode. Wait, does House Hunters actually have episodes?"

Dad: "No, it's really more of a vignette."

Jack on dinosaurs

(Talking about apatosaurus)

"Yep, they were herbi-whores"

Alum life

Me and my wonderful parents at my graduation party

Well, I've been an alumna for exactly 7 days now. It's kind of like a birthday: I don't feel different, but I know that something's changed. I don't think it will really hit me until August, when I don't move back here and start classes again. Yesterday was Reunion Weekend here and I was giving a bunch of alumnae from the 80s an apartment tour. One asked when I would graduate, to which I shyly responded, "Well, I graduated last weekend. I'm class of 2010." She shrieked "You're one of us! Congratulations!" I hadn't really thought of it like that before. I am an alumna. Strange.

Graduation weekend was wonderful. The baccalaureate service was very lovely; our speaker, a Methodist minister/alumna (we like to keep it in the family around here!) talked about Lydia in the New Testament and how, as we go out into the world, we should be women of faith and women of purpose, just like Lydia. That afternoon we had Class Day, where the seniors and sophomores donned our white dresses and gathered in the amphitheater to recap our 4 years here and celebrate sisterhood. That was the first time I really cried; standing on the island, waiting to take apart the daisy chains that formed our numerals, I was holding Louisa's hand, with Hillary on her other side and it hit all three of us at the same time. Imagine the three of us, standing there, holding on to each other with all our might and sobbing because the realization that we'd be right back there the next day to take our diplomas and leave came upon us that suddenly.

Graduation morning dawned bright and early. I did lose my tassel on the way to line up, but my friend VC found it and gave it back :). My name was spelled right on my diploma (magna cum laude, too!), I remembered to shake Dr. Hartford's hand before I took the diploma from her, I didn't fall on the island, and I got the biggest hugs from my advisor and our class advisor. The graduation party was a lot of fun too; part of my family, who didn't go to the ceremony (we had a LOT of people in town), went to the shelter early to set up and they did a beautiful job. We ate, laughed, took lots of pictures: all in all, it was perfect.

And now I'm an alumna. It still sounds so strange. I'm in the process of moving out of MC for the last time (!!) and training for my new job. I'm going to be a reading teacher this summer, but before I get into the classroom, there is three weeks of intensive training that I have to go through. I'm on day 4 of week 1 and it is a lot, but I think I'm going to enjoy it. This whole being (almost) a grownup thing is a little scary, though. Mostly exciting and just a little scary.

Wordless Wednesday

Charleston on my mind

I'd love to live in a house like this one on the Battery!

I'm headed down to Chuck-town tomorrow afternoon with the family for a quick trip to see Patrick. We'll be back Sunday night, but I'm excited. I love that city and could very easily see myself living there. If all goes as I have planned, I'll be down there in the fall studying English at CofC, but we'll see. I still have to apply and be accepted.

Senior Parent Night

The picture above was taken last night by my roommate/best friend Hillary; it was Senior Parent Night, a night to celebrate how far we've come and thank the people who have gotten us there. We had dinner and there was a dance (that we didn't stay for), but one of the best parts of the evening was when we gave our parents notes we'd written to them to say thank you. After we gave our parents the notes, we left to get the gift that had been purchased with part of our ticket money, a blanket that said Meredith College Parent Class of 2010. I made both of my parents cry with what I wrote, but that's not why I wrote what I did. I wrote those words because they were true, because I am deeply grateful for the upbringing I was given and the support I have received since I came to Meredith--I would not be who I am without them.

Love you, Mommy and Daddy!

On testing

On Monday I took a test in my programming test. I did not do so well on the test (read: didn't pass). Now, when I first got the numerical grade from Blackboard, I called my dad crying and told him I failed at life. He wasn't having any of that and just simply asked "Where are you going to go from here?" I sniffled and told him I didn't know, that I didn't have the test back, etc. I've been dreading this all week.

I got the test back today. We went over it in class and I realized that my problem is attention to detail. Once the professor started going over it, I realized what I had done wrong: for one or two, I just didn't understand the question; for most of the ones I got wrong, I didn't read the code carefully enough, which is where I made my errors. While it doesn't make the grade any more fun, it makes it bearable because I know where I made my mistakes.

So, I now have an answer to my dad's question: I know where I'm going from here. I have made appointments at the Learning Center (which takes HUGE pride swallowing since I work there) with a friend of mine who's a computer science tutor. I am going to start working the problems/answering the questions at the end of every section to make sure I get the concepts. I am going to pay more attention to detail on the next test. And I am going to stop thinking about this one. The perfectionist side of me hates that, but I really can't do anything else and stay sane. I messed up. There, I said it. Now I can move on.

And I'm really grateful for a father who has taught me that when I make mistakes or when sucky things happen, I need to take a breath, deal with that fact, then figure out how to fix it and not spend time wringing my hands over the fact that IT'S NOT ALL THE WAY IT SHOULD BE, which is what blinks in huge neon letters in my mind when I feel like I've failed. Dealing with it and moving on means that I haven't really failed, just learned from the mistake I've made. Which is a good life lesson.

Happy Friday!

Twitter?

Well, I've started a Twitter account... we'll see how long it lasts. It kind of feels like cheat-blogging at this point--I don't have time to write a whole post, so I think I'll write a 140 character thought so I'm at least writing something. However, given my propensity to neglect writing altogether when I'm busy, this might be a good thing.

Grandma and I went shopping today for a dress for Senior Parent Night. It was a lot of fun to go shopping with her like I used to when I was little; she'd need something for an event and I'd pick out the most horrible sequined thing I could find-in my defense, I did believe sequins made things indescribably beautiful! I fell in love with the first dress I found, which was this one:

Sadly, though, it was just a little tight in the bust and I knew I wouldn't be comfortable all night in something that was tight and low :(

We did, however, find this one, which I got in red:

It was a very productive shopping trip and I'm really excited for next week!

Hail Queen of Heaven

Hail, Queen of heav'n, the ocean star.
Guide the wand'rer here below!
Thrown on life's surge we claim thy care.
Save us from peril and from woe.
Mother of Christ, Star of the sea,
Pray for the wanderer. Pray for me.

O gentle, chaste, and spotless Maid,
We sinners make our prayers thro' thee.
Remind thy Son that He has paid
The price of our iniquity.
Virgin most pure, Star of the sea,
Pray for the sinner. Oh, pray for me.

Sojourners in this vale of tears,
To thee, blest advocate, we cry.
Oh, pity our sorrows, calm our fears.
And soothe with hope our misery.
Refuge in grief, Star of the sea,
Pray for the mourner, Oh, pray for me.

And while to Him Who reigns above
In Godhead one, in Persons three,
The Source of life, of grace, of love,
Homage we pay on bended knee:
Do thou, bright Queen, O star of the sea,
Pray for thy children, pray for me.

We sang this hymn in Mass this morning; it remains one of my favorites because it is simple, yet so beautiful in its simplicity. The tune is also one of those lovely old tunes that is actually singable, as opposed to some of the hymns that made their way into church hymnbooks in the 1960s and 70s that are atonal and so difficult to follow that even people like me, who read music well, have a hard time following the tune, never mind the general congregation.

Today was the first day of Sunday School at our parish. Rather than be a helper in my mom's class occasionally as I've done for the last few years, I am "on my own" as a substitute teacher and I had the 3rd grade class, a class of 14 children. It was great to work with these children again, as I had worked with them when they were in the first grade in my mom's class. I did the introduction to the class for the teacher, who was getting her daughter moved into college for the first time, then read them a story about St. John Marie Vianney, since this is the Year of the Priest. We talked about what it meant to be a priest and why St. John was such a good role model for parish priests. After that, which was the end of her lesson plan, I looked at my watch and realized that there was almost 25 minutes left in the class and I had nothing for them to do. However, I've watched my mom improvise for years, so I knew that the best thing for me to do was think of something simple and quick--we played Catholic Hangman. That sounds pretty gruesome, but it was my own version of the spelling game where someone thinks of a word for the group to guess; as they guess letters, the correct ones are written down and the wrong ones earn the guessing team one more body part (head, torso, arms, legs, etc--I usually make it pretty complicated when I'm playing with small children--it gives them more of a chance to win :) ). If the word (or words) are completed before the man is completely drawn, the guessers win and if not, the thinker wins. Anyway, with my kids, I started out simple with "priest." They got it pretty quickly, so I challenged them (or so I thought) with "eucharist"--they got that one pretty quickly too, although the "u" near the beginning made them keep guessing "q," which made me laugh a little. We then moved on to "Saint John Vianney," which stumped them for a while, but eventually they got it. Finally, my trump card was with "Monsignor W-------" our pastor's name, which took them until half the class had been picked up to guess. It was a fun hour and I look forward to going back next month! Next week, I'll have a combined class of 6th, 7th, and 8th grade boys... stay tuned!

One sweet anecdote from this morning: there is a little girl in the class who has Downs Syndrome. I had worked with her before, so she was comfortable with me, but I know that she couldn't guess the letters like everyone else, so I had to come up with another way for her to participate. When it came to her turn, I would lean down and whisper a letter into her ear for her to repeat back to me. I wasn't sure how the other kids would react to this, but I thought it was important for her to be included. One of the boys, a child that I already knew was sweet, started cheering for her every time that she gave me a letter (of course I gave her letters that were in the puzzle--I didn't think it was fair to give her wrong letters): "Yay S---! She's really helping us win! Aw, man! She keeps getting the right letters!" It made me so happy to see her beaming at his praise; I didn't get a chance to tell his dad what a great kid he has, but I definitely will the next time I see that family at church.

In other news, this was an interesting weekend. I decided on Wednesday that I am definitely going to apply to graduate school for the fall; by Friday night, I had Carolina and Catholic on my list as definite places to apply, but the rest... it was all so overwhelming. It culminated in, after I got off work and came home to my roommates going out, sitting down at my computer screen and freaking out, sitting there, home alone (the only reason I mentioned them going out; that's not really my thing, so I was totally cool with that, until I had no one to cry to), sobbing because I was so overwhelmed. So I closed up my computer, packed a bag, and showed up on my back porch at 11:30 at night, tears rolling down my face (yes, I sobbed all the way home; I really probably shouldn't have driven, but I wasn't thinking straight), and sat down next to my poor confused father to cry it all out. Once I had composed myself, we talked and I decided that I'm only going to worry about those two schools because they are the ones with the programs that I like. It is wonderful to have family to go home to whenever I need them.

Speaking of graduate school, I need to go study for the GRE. Fun times :) But really, I wouldn't have it any other way

Brunching with my grandparents :)

Tonight I called my grandpa to invite him and Grandma (who is flying home tomorrow from visiting her sister in CA) over for breakfast after church on Sunday. And I just think that it's pretty fantastic that I can invite them over to my new place; I'm glad that I have a place to invite them to and I'm glad we're close enough to do that.

Growing up, none of my cousins were fortunate enough to live as close to my grandparents as I do. I used to spend every afternoon over at their house after I finished my schoolwork--it was my grandpa that taught me to cook. We would sit in his big brown recliner, me on his lap, and watch cooking shows, after which we'd make dinner for the three of us. Between helping Grandpa and my mom, I was always in the kitchen, which I believe is what makes me love cooking today.

My grandma and I would go shopping together, which we still do; I'm sure she appreciates it much more now that I'm trying not to dress her like a disco drag queen (if it was hideous and sequined, I thought she'd be beautiful in it!). She taught me to hunt for a bargain and to never purchase something unless I loved it. She has also always thought I was beautiful and tried to get me to dress that way.

I'm so excited about them coming because during the last 3 years, they have been nothing but supportive of my academics. Not that my parents have not been, because they are wonderful, but there's something about my relationship with my grandparents that makes their support and encouragement extra special; perhaps it is the fact that I am not as close with my dad's parents as I am with my mom's, my Grandma and Grandpa. (By the way, one of my favorite recent memories was the time in April that they came to MC for a grandparent's luncheon and we took a tour of this apartment building before it was anywhere close to finished. Brittany, one of my fellow staff members took a picture of my grandpa in a pink hard hat--priceless! I think I'm the only person in the world that he would do that for, even if it was rather grudgingly :)) . So now I'm off to bed, but after work tomorrow, I'm going shopping for brunch! Yay!

Thoughts about my mother

My mom several years ago during a trip to the beach, beautiful despite the wind :)

It is difficult to sit down and write about the person who most influences your life. It is even more difficult to do so without being clichéd. So much is said about mothers, and it can be a challenge to distinguish the sincerely meant words from those which just sound nice. So I begin to think about my ever-changing relationship with my mother, which, thankfully, has almost always (but sometimes not) been a good one.

We did not have a good relationship when I was in the 9^th grade. That was the year that, after being homeschooled since kindergarten, I patently refused to go to a traditional high school, deciding instead that, because I knew best about my education, as all 14 year olds do, I would be homeschooled all the way through high school. My mother agreed, on one condition: that we use a package curriculum, rather than do what we had always done and use a curriculum that she chose herself from different textbook companies. I consented and that year was a disaster from the very beginning. Mom chose a well-known company, but the rigidity of their requirements—things like using the few assignments they graded for 75% of my total grade—made it difficult for me to care. The volume of work was immense and after a month or so, it began to seem totally pointless. However, as neither one of us wanted to give in for our various reasons (Mom because the curriculum had been expensive and me because my pride was dearer), we stuck it through to the end. Both of us, I believe, were relieved when I went off to private school in the fall, a school which, although not perfect, allowed us the space we needed to enable our relationship to become more than it was at that point.

Our relationship suffered again five years later when I began dating a young man who, though not at all a bad person, was not right for me with regards to his ambition or his personality. Like all 19 year olds, though, I knew best once again, and caused both of my parents a lot of suffering because of my stubbornness in insisting, once again, that I was right and that my way was what was right for me. I couldn’t see any merits in her argument that being yoked with a partner who was unequal would make me miserable; in those terrible months of constant fighting, she revealed so much of the agony she had gone through in a similar relationship when she was my age, and yet I still spurned her counsel. Eventually, though, that relationship ended and thankfully my mother and I became close again.

Many of the young women I know run screaming at the idea of becoming their mother; I embrace it. Our voices are often mistaken on the telephone, and whenever a caller apologizes for thinking I am my mother, I thank them, catching them off guard. It is as if the expectation is still there for young women of my generation to be like the young women of hers and be offended at the thought of being their own mothers, horribly backwards and not enlightened. My mother is a fantastic, fascinating person and if I grow up to be anything like her, I will have achieved so much. While she has had many part time teaching and tutoring jobs during my lifetime, her heart has always been at home; she is a nurturing, caring individual, so it comes as no surprise to anyone that she is a teacher. She is smart, but chooses to use her mental faculties to educate and care for her family first and foremost, rather than just worrying about a paycheck. My college friends who live far away love coming home with me because she’s a wonderful cook; her meals may not be exotic, but they are made with talent and caring, which makes them even better.

I can remember as a child having friends whose mothers embarrassed them, not because of what they did, but because of who they were. I don’t ever remember having those feelings about my own mother. I cherished her then as a rarity among the mothers I knew and I cherish her now as a dear friend.

Look for another post in the near future about becoming my mother.

I'm a senior!

9 days until the beach. I can't wait to lay on the hammock and read, take long naps for absolutely no reason, walk barefoot on the beach, spend the evenings on a porch swing with a glass of wine in my hand, laughing and talking with my family. Oh, summer!