Where are You Going, My Little One, Little One
Back in my day, you graduated 8th grade and went on to one of the two high schools in the area, depending on where you lived. 4 years later, if you were so inclined, you took the SAT, applied to a college or two and left home. Or you didn’t.
There might be a smidge more pressure on kids now a days.
Tonight is the first in a series of opportunities for us to start weighing high school options for The Child, as all the Catholic high schools in the area send representatives to an information night at St. G’s. "We're going tonight, right, Mama? This is important."
Have I mentioned that The Child is in the 7th grade?
It still sometimes surprises me that my little pudding faced boofie baby is old enough to start thinking about Next Steps. You go along and you go along and then, wham, out of nowhere you remember again that the dependent, dripping thing you started out with is learning to do for itself. Breast to bottle to sippy cup and then all of a sudden, the kid is getting her own milk out of the fridge. And then going to the store, by herself, to buy the milk.
And while I'm here, just trying to enjoy the ride, The Child has been focusing more and more on her future. She talks all the time about the summer, 2 years hence, which she’ll be spending in France with Nicole et famille. She’s already told me that she expects to take a year or two before going to college, to travel and work. She wants to get married (still mostly to Daniel Radcliffe, but the pool is widening) and have babies (probably 5).
I’m still trying to get her to remember to brush her hair in the morning.
So, anyway, here we are, preparing for an informational meeting. As you know, I am not a fan of the evening meeting, even less so when it is a Tuesday and “Gilmore girls” is on at 8. And with 2 nights of volleyball plus choir, this is the only evening when the routine is not dictated by extras. And I like that about Tuesday nights.
I know what you’re thinking. “Isn’t your child’s future more important than a television show?” Well, sure, most of the time it is. But in this case, if she goes to Catholic high school there is really only one choice. Most of the schools are fiercely competitive and academic. Slews of 4.0 students don’t get into these schools. And “fiercely competitive and academic” is not a phrase that applies to The Child. There was one other high school in which she expressed interest; until we found out they had moved their campus much farther east than I intend to drive.
The school at the top of the list has a sterling reputation, a renowned theater & music program and volleyball. It is also a school that ‘gets’ learning disabilities and has programs to support LD students, which most of the other Catholic high schools do not. So we will go to the 20-minute session at 7 o’clock and come home. We’ll get our feet wet with this whole “planning your future” thing and set up an information file and the next time there is an informational meeting we’ll go check out another school or two, because one does need options.
But in writing this I realize that my “dipping one toe” strategy has less to do with keeping Tuesday evening sacrosanct than with the fact that sometimes I’m so not ready for this. I’m still wrapping my head around having a middle schooler, people. Shouldn't I get comfortable with that idea before I ship her off to high school? I know all this growing-up-in-a-blink-of-an-eye is universal. I've seen the "when did this happen" expression on the faces of Dame Judi & Sean Connery. Children grow up and you don't feel any older and it catches you by surprise, even when it probably shouldn't.
"Turn around and she's 2, turn around and she's 4, turn around and she's a young girl, going out of the door"...
Basta! It is a perfect fall day and I promised The Spouse cookies. I can only indulge all things varklempt a little longer. I shall do this by listening to Warren Zevon's "Tenderness on the Block", rock's answer to "Sunrise, Sunset". And then I shall snap out of it with a little something else by Mr. Zevon. I like having a plan.
There might be a smidge more pressure on kids now a days.
Tonight is the first in a series of opportunities for us to start weighing high school options for The Child, as all the Catholic high schools in the area send representatives to an information night at St. G’s. "We're going tonight, right, Mama? This is important."
Have I mentioned that The Child is in the 7th grade?
It still sometimes surprises me that my little pudding faced boofie baby is old enough to start thinking about Next Steps. You go along and you go along and then, wham, out of nowhere you remember again that the dependent, dripping thing you started out with is learning to do for itself. Breast to bottle to sippy cup and then all of a sudden, the kid is getting her own milk out of the fridge. And then going to the store, by herself, to buy the milk.
And while I'm here, just trying to enjoy the ride, The Child has been focusing more and more on her future. She talks all the time about the summer, 2 years hence, which she’ll be spending in France with Nicole et famille. She’s already told me that she expects to take a year or two before going to college, to travel and work. She wants to get married (still mostly to Daniel Radcliffe, but the pool is widening) and have babies (probably 5).
I’m still trying to get her to remember to brush her hair in the morning.
So, anyway, here we are, preparing for an informational meeting. As you know, I am not a fan of the evening meeting, even less so when it is a Tuesday and “Gilmore girls” is on at 8. And with 2 nights of volleyball plus choir, this is the only evening when the routine is not dictated by extras. And I like that about Tuesday nights.
I know what you’re thinking. “Isn’t your child’s future more important than a television show?” Well, sure, most of the time it is. But in this case, if she goes to Catholic high school there is really only one choice. Most of the schools are fiercely competitive and academic. Slews of 4.0 students don’t get into these schools. And “fiercely competitive and academic” is not a phrase that applies to The Child. There was one other high school in which she expressed interest; until we found out they had moved their campus much farther east than I intend to drive.
The school at the top of the list has a sterling reputation, a renowned theater & music program and volleyball. It is also a school that ‘gets’ learning disabilities and has programs to support LD students, which most of the other Catholic high schools do not. So we will go to the 20-minute session at 7 o’clock and come home. We’ll get our feet wet with this whole “planning your future” thing and set up an information file and the next time there is an informational meeting we’ll go check out another school or two, because one does need options.
But in writing this I realize that my “dipping one toe” strategy has less to do with keeping Tuesday evening sacrosanct than with the fact that sometimes I’m so not ready for this. I’m still wrapping my head around having a middle schooler, people. Shouldn't I get comfortable with that idea before I ship her off to high school? I know all this growing-up-in-a-blink-of-an-eye is universal. I've seen the "when did this happen" expression on the faces of Dame Judi & Sean Connery. Children grow up and you don't feel any older and it catches you by surprise, even when it probably shouldn't.
"Turn around and she's 2, turn around and she's 4, turn around and she's a young girl, going out of the door"...
Basta! It is a perfect fall day and I promised The Spouse cookies. I can only indulge all things varklempt a little longer. I shall do this by listening to Warren Zevon's "Tenderness on the Block", rock's answer to "Sunrise, Sunset". And then I shall snap out of it with a little something else by Mr. Zevon. I like having a plan.
Labels: Dame Judi, Gilmore girls, high school, my dad Sean Connery, next steps, volleyball
cobbled together by Moi at 10:23 AM
12 Comments:
It is good to have a plan. Just remember, that sometimes the plan gets changed, and then it gets changed back again.
What about your promised post the help Sibley?
Sigh Please go to my blog and vote for a bud that has been entered by some friends into a Cosmopolitan Bachelor of the year contest.
Details there on the blog and a link.
MMM Cookies
JP no drooling on the blog please
And sorry for advertising here honey but this is important. Sibley needs stuff
I frequently rethink the plan.
I only promised to make cookies, not to pimp for your friend. Dear.
I need stuff and I don't see anyone entering me in a Cosmo competition.
Okay, I did drool a little bit but I wiped it up.
Good boy.
You have a plan?
Yes. Yes, I do. And elements of it will be revealed this season.
Well, it is a little late to tell you that having 5 or more children, and the more wretched, the better, would have pretty much insured your glee at their (more importantly, your) emancipation. But, since the two of you seem hell-bent on raising a healthy, caring human being, there is really nothing I can tell you. I can quote Warren, though, and say, "enjoy every sandwich".
Warren, my dear Edy, rocks.
i'm pretty sure Gilmore Girls is on the same level as life and death
Mols, Well, yeah.
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