Getting a little bit...cocky (Sorry!)

I can't decide if it seems like a million years ago...or just yesterday...that the first piece of marketing mail from an institution of higher learning showed up in our box, touting their advantages and encouraging Derek to apply. I do remember that it caused quite a stir--okay, okay, while Derek may have viewed it with his habitual air of detached bemusement, I was pretty gleeful.

And in keeping with my hyper-organized persona--not to mention my "Must! Chronicle! Every! Last! Milestone!" mission--I promptly began numbering them in the order in which they were received, and piling them neatly in a box. They ranged from the "local--but no, thank you" (Campbell University, I'm looking at you. And seriously, you can STOP SENDING STUFF NOW, for crying out loud!) to the "schools of potential interest" (Your broader contingent-of-the-Carolinas) to the "improbable but we appreciate you asking" (University of Chicago? Um...uh-uh...) to the "Are you kidding me? How did you even get my name? Please lose my info, immediately!" (Lynchburg College...just say ix-nay to middle-of-the-wilderness Virginia...)

When I finally stopped counting--and some of them had begun to repeat themselves, with what seemed to me like increasing desperation--the total had far surpassed 100 assorted colorful postcards, glossy brochures, and (much more boring) letters. But by that time, Derek had actually already heard back from all the schools to which he'd applied, and had in fact narrowed it down to his original top two choices, University of South Carolina and James Madison University.

Then the Southern Carolina tipped the balance strongly in their favor by coming through with a scholarship offer that suddenly made their out-of-state rates muuuuuch more affordable and appealing...and there was abundant rejoicing amongst Team WestEnders. So all that remained at that point was for us to wait until J-Mad spoke up. What ensued was a whole lotta crickets...radio silence...continued twiddling of thumbs...until I finally emailed their Financial Aid department, and was enlightened with some very useful--albeit surprising and disappointing--information. It seems that at this particular institution, LESS THAN 5% of incoming Freshmen are awarded scholarships. Huh. Alrighty, then...file that under "good to know"...aaannnnd, moving on...

This obviously crystallized Derek's choice for him, and he was quite content to declare himself a future Gamecock...at least to his family. He held off on making a public announcement, however, due to the fact that USC had invited him to be a Capstone Scholar, and he felt that he wanted more details before committing to the program. Well, this sounded entirely reasonable to me--heck, to be honest, I was thrilled (and more than a little astonished) that he'd even consider it. So we attended the Capstone presentation at Admitted Students Day, and everything sounded absolutely GREAT...to me, that is. Derek was still a bit unsure about the demands on his time, and the requirements he'd have to satisfy, and therefore needed a couple of questions answered, to firm up his decision.

So naturally, he implemented the High School Senior Procrastination Plan, and held off until ONE WEEK before the deadline to pay his deposit and secure his spot for the Fall, to contact a Capstone representative and make his inquiries. Luckily they're totally on the ball, and responded to him almost immediately...PLUS alleviated his concerns...so he agreed that it would be beneficial to participate in the program. (One second.....yaaaayyyyyy! Ecstatic Nerd Mom cheer!)

After that, we could get down to taking care of some administrative business...most of which involved shelling out loads of moolah. (Ahhhh, post-secondary education...) There was the aforementioned "Yes, I'm really coming!" fee. Then the "please save me a room on campus" charge. And finally, the cost of the 2-day Orientation..for him and his accompanying parental unit. Holy credit card workout, Batman, can you say: CHA-CHING?

But once the piles of virtual cash had been transmitted, we were all set for a late-July session, for the kid and....well, ME, of course. I mean, Husband tried to be like, "I have all these vacation days, and I never use them, so don't worry, I can do the Orientation so you don't have to arrange for time off." And I went, "Aww, that's adorable. But let's be real, here: I've shown up for every Back to School Night, Parent Information Meeting, and Open House since Derek was in preschool (and you've been to...wait, let me think....oh, right, that would be ZERO). So I'm curious...in what universe do you imagine me NOT accompanying him to this event?" Yeah, glad we got that settled...

Besides, he sheepishly admitted that he'd probably just sit in the library with his laptop and log into work anyway. While I, of course, will be at every seminar, with a notebook and pen, paying close attention to presentations and diligently jotting down important...stuff. Oh, and I almost forgot to mention: both Derek and I get to stay on campus for the in-between night--yippee! So you can totally see why this has "my kinda trip" written all over it, can't you?

And there you have it: we've checked off the early items on the Pre-College To Do List...my next task is to seriously focus on coming to grips with the fact that my beloved child will be spending the next 4 years of his life at a university represented by...a fighting chicken. No, really--I must be at peace with this concept before the next time we visit, so I can plunder the bookstore for USC swag! However, trust me when I assure you my new t-shirt will NOT display any variation of the very popular shortened nickname....you can guess what that is...that's right: "Cocks". (Yep, the possibilities for obnoxious sayings are practically endless...siiighhhh...) Perhaps I'll select one with a tasteful, understated logo, without any mention of the mascot whatsoever. That's the ticket: Go, GARNET!

Welcome to the Club...

Well, I suppose it had to happen, eventually. I mean, in some ways, it certainly was a long time coming...yet nevertheless it managed to sneak up on me somehow. (Oh, riiiiiight--we call that "denial"...) After years of infancy, toddlerhood, preschooldom, elementaryness, tweenageism, and adolescence, my oldest child can now be called...an ADULT. (You know, at least in the legal sense--we're all aware that the brain doesn't finish developing until around age 25, blah blah blah. But we're gonna go with the "metaphorical age of maturity" for dramatic purposes, 'kay?)

Although Derek approached his impending...grown-up status...with his usual nonchalant air, Husband and I thought it was kind of a Big Deal. In fact, I even tried--for months beforehand, mind you--to entice Derek with the offer of a trip to commemorate his special milestone. But the only thing he could come up with was...Milwaukee (believe it or not)...to see an NBA playoff game. (Which is a strange tale in and of itself, but suffice it to say, he's inexplicably turned into a Bucks fan in the past several years. No one has a clue why...) Unfortunately, the professional basketball schedule didn't coincide in any way with a convenient school holiday, so that turned out to be impossible.

And when I switched tactics, and attempted to pin him down to something ELSE he might want as a gift? I got a whole lotta...nothin'. That is, until about a week before the anniversary of his birth, when he finally compiled a very short list for me--all of which involved clothing, amusingly enough. So I scrambled to place some hasty online orders, one of which resulted in the pictured (Malcolm) Brogdon tee that pleased him very much. (Wait a minute--WHO? I know, it's ridiculous. Apparently this kid was last season's Rookie of the Year....that no one outside of Wisconsin...besides my son...has ever heard of...). I also surprised him with a Greensboro Grasshoppers shirt (his alleged "favorite minor league baseball team)--an item he'd mentioned several times, but didn't expect me to actually purchase for him. (Mom, FTW!)

Meanwhile, his brother went straight to heart...by way of the stomach,...and supplied some tasty snack foods that he thought Derek would enjoy. (Seriously, Cheez Its...and M&Ms? I can't decide if it's pure genius, or utterly disgusting...but Derek polished off the box in a couple of sittings, making his vote crystal clear.)

Hoooooowever...we're still waiting for the Dylan Bundy replica jersey...which the site where I found it failed to mention is being shipped from CHINA. So who honestly knows when it'll arrive--but hopefully sometime before the end of the Orioles' season. (And that, my beloved offspring, is why you make your wishes known more than 7 days in advance! Just sayin'....)

Anyway, to finish the fashion-palooza, we took a jaunt to Kohl's, to replenish Derek's supply of shorts...since he pointed out that he's pretty much been wearing the same ones since Middle School. So, to put it mildly, it's high time we replace some of those pairs...before they start disintegrating and causing unfortunate wardrobe malfunctions that lead to public embarrassment...or being sent home from class for violating the dress code.

Having successfully exercised the credit card, we then continued the festivities with (drum roll) CAKE, of course! Now, I usually throw together whatever flavor the honoree wants--from a boxed mix, given my tendency toward culinary...laziness. But this year, I'd seen a super-cool tie dye creation on Food Network's The Kitchen....and I threatened--I mean "offered"--to make it for Derek. He agreed that would be fine (After all, why wouldn't he--it's dessert, right?), so I whisked and food colored and swirled and stacked and frosted and decorated...and while it definitely wasn't as pretty as the professional one on TV, everyone agreed it could be called a success. (Because yeah: no matter what, you end up with a sweet treat. And frankly, we're not that picky...)

Although we haven't yet gone out for the traditional "family restaurant dinner" that each member of Team WestEnders gets to choose for their birthday (due to "homework", that dreaded nemesis of fun), I'd have to say we feted the new 18-year old pretty thoroughly. When I inquired as to whether he felt older, or different--or anything at all, for that matter--Derek gave one of his patented shrugs and replied, "Eh, not really. People keep asking me that, but (here he paused to reflect a moment) 18 is one of those deceptive birthdays. It seems important, but you don't get any special privileges, like driving at 16, or drinking at 21. It's just...over-rated."


I restrained myself from pointing out that he can now participate in the democratic process--whoo hoo!--because I do get what he's saying. Perhaps this particular age means more to the parents, who at this point are feeling a whole host of emotions...from the inevitable disbelief ("Are you kidding me? How is it possible that our baby is 18 already?"); to relief, for have shepherded him through his tender childhood era, and delivered him safely to the realm of adulthood; to pride, for the young man he's become; to excitement, for what awaits him on the horizon in the next stage of his life. Now before I collapse into a teary-eyed puddle of goo, I believe I'll drown my melancholy with a nice, strong drink (of tea)...and some leftover baked goods! Cheers to Derek!

Bits of April...

I realized it had been a while since I'd sat down to chronicle anything in the ongoing saga of Team WestEnders--because (contrary to the usual state of...controlled chaos) things have honestly been pretty quiet around here lately, and there hasn't been any kind of big, exciting story to tell. But then it occurred to me that April has brought with it a collection of...let's call them "little milestones"...that are worth noting.

For example, the boys have skated into their 4th and final quarter of the current academic term. For Riley, this means that he's almost finished with his first year of High School--which is nerve-wracking enough...at least for his mother, who's having a great deal of difficulty wrapping her head around this concept. Even more mind-boggling, however, is the fact that Derek is now entrenched in the very last 2 months of his K-12 career (and I just....I can't even...never mind, I'll get back to you on this...). The reality of this situation was abruptly brought into sharp focus last week, when he got the notice that his graduation gear had arrived and was ready for pickup during lunch period. (Nope, not dealing...maybe later...)

On a related note, only 2 weeks remain until he'll have to announce a formal decision about where he plans to attend college in the Fall, so we can pay his deposit and secure his spot in the Class of 2022. (I apologize for repeating myself, but I figure if I say it often enough, maybe I'll eventually become desensitized to this information, and therefore possibly decrease the frequency and severity of the episodes of watery eyes and hyperventilating...it's worth a shot, yeah?) Well...in truth he's actually already made his choice, but he has a few questions he needs answered about financial and scholarship topics, before he can officially declare (and allow his mother to post it to his adoring public on social media, of course...)

Moving on to something less traumatic...oh, or NOT...we've been attempting to get Riley into a Driver's Ed class, so that when his birthday rolls around in August, he'll be all ready to go in and obtain his permit. (Give me a second....aaaahhhhhh! My BABY! How is this happening? Okay, I'm good....ish...) Because he's on the younger side for his grade, he got bumped the first couple of times we tried, for students with earlier birthdays--which is understandable. However, in a head-shaking coincidence, all 3 of the sessions offered at his High School during the Summer directly conflict with either our family trips (in 2 cases), or soccer tryouts (the last one). What're the odds? So we're keeping our fingers crossed that he'll be allowed to register for--and that space will be available in--an option held at a neighboring...crosstown rival....but it'll be okay, since this isn't a sporting event, per se, no one's keeping score, and they're all winners...right? (Sure, let's go with that...)

Finally, one more entry in the gosh-darn-it-they're-growing-up-too-fast department: Riley also recently found a volunteer opportunity that appealed to him, working with kids at a camp program held at the Museum of Life and Science in Durham. This wasn't something you just put your name in for, either--he had to fill out an application listing his qualifications and experience...request 2 letters of recommendation (hopefully highlighting his character, maturity, and leadership abilities)...and INTERVIEW with someone from the museum, responding to a list of questions that were provided ahead of time so he could prepare appropriately. Holy Real Deal, Batman...that's pretty heady stuff for a 14-year old! So, he's had his meeting, and now we just wait to find out if he's offered one of the positions--and if so, which weeks he's slated to serve...which had better not overlap with Driver's Ed, since we determined his free time for camp when we mistakenly still believed he'd be completing the car training course during the school year. Ay yi yi...

Aaaannd that's it for the first-half-of-April updates. Yep, time to relax and enjoy the weekend...or, you know, organize the celebration for one particular member of the fam, who will be turning the big 1-8 on Monday. (Here we go again....aaahhhhhh!) But of course, that's a whole 'nother tale for a different day, y'all! Now if you'll excuse me, I've gotta go have an attack of Mom-stalgia...oh, and buy ingredients for a cake....

Boats, bridges, and battlefields (oh my!)

While Day 1 in New Bern had proved both enlightening and entertaining, the sun hadn’t made an appearance to grace my travels. So when I awoke on Saturday to a bright blue sky and copious rays, I knew I’d be exploring a bit more before taking my leave. First up: a stroll across the bridge that leads into town, for some scenic riverscapes. Although it was super-windy and slightly on the cool-ish side, the excursion proved just as lovely as I’d hoped. What is it about bodies of water that invokes such a deep-seated sense of peace, causing one’s breathing to calm and mind to cease racing? Seriously, if someone could identify and bottle that stuff, they’d make millions, I tell ya.

And of course there were the rows upon rows of cheerful sailboats to behold, gently bobbing on the waves. Now, I don’t love to be, you know. ON small crafts, in general….but I do absolutely enjoy gazing upon--and photographing--them. (What can I say? I’m a woman of many complicated contradictions...or whatever…)

Then came the huge unexpected BONUS of my walkabout...I began to hear a repeated clanging sound, like a signal for something. I suddenly remembered the signs I’d seen while driving in the previous day, giving instructions for “Pedestrians (to) stop here when bell sounds”. At the time I’d given it a curious moment of thought, but hadn’t really stopped to try to figure out what it actually meant. Now, however, it dawned on me that it must be a drawbridge, and they were warning you to remain in the safe zone if the structure needed to be raised.

Which it did, apparently. I joined the line of cars waiting behind the lowered barriers and watched, utterly fascinated, as a portion of the roadway tilted up, up, up towards us, to allow a tall-masted schooner to scoot through unobstructed. (Is that an appropriate term? I could totally be using my ignorance to take liberties with the nautical lingo. But I liked the way it sounded, so I'm just gonna go with it...and I apologize in the unlikely event that any sailors...or...um...pirates?...read this...) I’m not sure exactly why that struck me as so cool...but it definitely counted as my silly thrill for the morning.

After that, it was back to the car for a short jaunt over to the New Bern Battlefield Park...which turned out to be a long, fancy name for...a small plot of nondescript forest that didn't contain much of interest, actually. I got the basic gist--the town was desirable because of its waterway access, and therefore potential for shipping goods and people during the Civil War. Brigadier General Ambrose Burnside successfully defeated the Confederate forces to gain control of New Bern, and it remained in the Union’s hands for the rest of the conflict. (Because even though it wasn’t very impressive, as historical sites go, I couldn’t help but read the plaques, you know? C’mon, there might be a quiz! If so, I’m prepared…)

Finally--on a related note--I made my way to the New Bern National Cemetery, which was established in 1867 and now serves as the final resting place for soldiers from that time forward. It reminded me of a mini-Arlington, with white marble markers in orderly rows, amidst a bucolic setting. I swear, even the birds, who have been joyfully warbling away now that the weather has at long last decided to become Spring-like, seemed to confine their singing to a respectful, reverent volume within the boundaries of the burial grounds.

It was a soothing way to end my pleasant sojourn in the Coastal Plains...and when I’d had my fill of reading headstones and soaking up the solar energy, I turned the Subaru westward to make my way back to the Triangle, and reunite with the also-returning Male Posse. Another successful field trip...and also one more spot checked off on my “Tour North Carolina” list. Yep, I'm gonna have to call that...a Win!