Anyway, as I was saying, there was still much to do, such as one of our favorite yearly rituals: the super-fun field trip to Staples, to stock up on essential educational...stuff. Unlike in the days of yore (better known as "Elementary School") we weren't fulfilling a tidy checklist of required and/or suggested materials, provided by the teacher. Nope, this particular excursion involved Derek and me wandering up and down the aisles, chatting about what might be a good idea to have on hand, to start your university career...at least to get you through until you figure out what you really need. By the time we headed to the checkout line, we'd acquired quite an assortment of random things that we deemed worthy--including stacks of looseleaf paper...a couple of binders and notebooks...correction fluid...tape, scissors, paper clips, and a stapler...and a portable pencil box to corral one's writing instruments in the backpack.
Okay, that felt successful--now let's move on to the considerably less entertaining (and more expensive) task of...placing a textbook order! First, let me warn you that we're about to enter a brave new world here, folks: a million years ago, when I was in college, all the students had to steel ourselves every semester to participate in the dreaded ritual of standing in a mile-long line to purchase our books at the (one) actual store on campus. This took hours, and was both boring and annoying, so needless to say, I do NOT have fond memories of the process.
But these days, it's a whole other experience. You simply log into your school email account, pull up your class schedule, which shows you exactly what you need for each course, choose your option (buy new or used, or rent for a few months), add them to the cart, and click Send. Heck, they'll even price-match for you, if you find something online that costs less. Because the stupid things are so...goshdarn...pricey, we did due diligence, and searched for all of Derek's textbooks on other sites. We only found one of them, but it was a rental, for at least $100 less than the university's offering. (Yay--we'll take it!)
Presumably this special electronic communication is then transmitted to the bookstore itself, where it will be shared with employees, who will use it to gather your pile o'materials and have it waiting for you when you show up on Move In Day. I'm telling ya, it sounds...downright magical. (Wait, I take that back! We haven't actually seen the books yet, so I don't want to jinx it by speaking too soon! Fingers crossed that it transpires as smoothly and painlessly as it appears on paper. Except the bill, of course, but nothing can help with that...siiighhhh...)
Phew! Now that we'd assembled a motley array of the odds and ends Derek would be taking with him into his next Life Adventure, it seemed like a wise idea to do what I decided to call a "practice pack". (I've been told by numerous people that I made that up, and it's not "a thing". Well, it is now...you're welcome...) The goal was to arrange everything into the containers we'd bought (to find out if they worked the way we'd envisioned them), see how it all fit together, and determine how compact we could make it, to stash neatly into the Subaru for the jaunt to South Carolina.
So we kicked off this little fiesta by hashing out the nitty gritty details of how many pairs, exactly, of socks and shorts and underwear, one might require, in order to fulfill the dual--and equally important--goals of 1) staying clean and non-stinky and 2) not having to do laundry more than once a week or so. And don't even get me started on how many t-shirts the boy had to pick out, from his crammed drawer full of a staggering number of garments. (None of which he will consent to weed out, by the way. Perhaps that will mysteriously occur while he's gone...mwah hah hah!) Then there were the toiletries and linens and cleaning supplies (wishful thinking, I know, but it can't hurt to send them, right?) and room essentials (desk lamp and shower caddy and alarm clock and...whatnot).
We gathered and categorized and tucked things into their niches, and when it was all said and done...it was so much less stuff than I'd anticipated. I mean, look at this small mound...that's all of it! My first thought was "He's such a...GUY! Where the heck is the rest of it?". But this was followed closely by relief, as in "This won't even be difficult to cram into my car. Whoo hoo!" It turned out to be both an amusing and a useful exercise, so all in all, I'd have to call it time well spent.And speaking of time...I'd been reading in one of the handy dandy guides the university had given us, all about things you can do during the Summer to help your adolescent get ready to be on their own. Many of them I was checking off in my head, because he already does them. (Laundry, yep. Manage his own debit card, sure. Learn how to wake up to an alarm clock...wait, are you kidding me? He's been doing that since about the 6th grade, so we're good.) But one suggestion struck a chord with me: allow them some freedom to make decisions about their own time...such as curfew, for example. Gulp. Oh...kay, I guess we can try that.
And wouldn't you know it, an opportunity to test this out came up the night Derek, Riley and I attended a Bulls baseball game. Derek had already asked if he could hang out with his friend group after we got home, even though it would probably be late, because as he pointed out, they had limited chances left to do so before they all scattered to their respective colleges in a matter of days. Once I agreed to that, he tacked on, "And can I stay out later than usual, so I have more time to spend with them?" Also approved. So when we were pulling up to where I'd be dropping him off, he finally asked, "How late can I stay?" Thinking, "Here we go...let's see how this turns out", I responded with "What do you think is a reasonable time to come home?" He immediately remarked, "Well, (someone whose name shall be omitted to protect his dignity) will have to leave at 12:00 anyway, so is it okay if I do, too?"
I assured him that actually, it sounded 100%, totally acceptable. (Especially since I was expecting much worse! That last part was obviously only stated IN MY HEAD, of course.) Not a half-second later, Riley piped up with a sarcasm-laden entry into the conversation, "Jeez, looks like the whole 'curfew' thing goes right out the window when you're about to go to college, huh?" Derek laughed, and I sputtered, as he followed it up immediately with a more serious, "Suppose I was going somewhere with my buddies--what time would I have to come home?" (Oh, good grief. I reminded him that he is, after all, 3 years younger, so could we maybe start out with the basics, and leave the heavy negotiation for somewhere down the road? Baby steps, my son...)
Finally, one last funny moment from our Practice Pack (patent pending). When he'd finished stowing all the class supplies in his backpack, he gave a satisfied nod and commented, "I don't know if you've noticed, but during the school year, my backpack lives on the floor at the foot of my bed at all times. Then during the Summer, it moves to my closet. It's only when I'm feeling ready for the new term to start, sometime in late August, that I move it back out." I don't think I'd ever consciously noticed the trend before, but it made sense, so I motioned for him to continue, since he clearly had more to say. He concluded with a contented sigh, "Well...it's staying right there. I'm ready to go."
Wowwww....that makes one of us, kiddo. Don't get me wrong, I'm super-excited for him, and soooo glad that he's feeling happy and confident about this next step. But...nah, I guess there's really no "but"...this is happening, and it's time for Mom to practice letting go, yeah? Uh-huh...I'm gonna get to work on that right now...if you'll excuse me, I'm thinking maybe some chocolate would improve the process...
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