One kid down.

I’m just going to come right out and say it. 

I’m fine. 

I’m not worried, sad, anxious, concerned, or even nostalgic.  I’m cool.  I’ll also give you one piece of advice, and no more, say goodbye to your college kid before you start move in day. 

Take her to dinner, fuss over her a little, tell her that she’s made great choices and then focus at the task ahead, because honestly folks, once you pull the mini-van up to the dorm, it is “game on” for them, and “game over” for you.  There will be no time for meaningful conversation once the day starts because your freshman becomes too aware of all the awesome new things that are happening around them. 

You need to be cool with that; seeing your kid confidently kick you out of her new home is somehow gratifying for most parents.  That’s all I’m saying.  If you can’t come to grips with that, call Dr. Phil.

I’ll also tell you that I was completely wrong about almost every aspect of the move. 

I gave one heck of a great speech regarding “the packing of necessities vs. amenities.” I further lectured all those listening about the “square footage of the interior of a mini-van and available storage space in your ‘run of the mill’ dorm room.”   Al Bundy would have given me a high five.

It all fit in the van.  It all fit in the room. 

There may, or may not, have been some “I told you so’s” exchanged by the student capable of entering a prestigious university and the father capable of basic janitorial services at said institution.

I was also not emotional.  I didn’t even feel a flicker, quiver, lump in the throat or puffy lip.  I was too busy doin’ stuff.  If you know me, this is astonishing.  I’ve been nearly in tears over this exodus for 2 months.  I’ve been really in tears twice. 

I was right about one thing.  I brought a dolly that converts into a cart.  All the students thought I was cool and exceedingly smart.  I didn’t wait in the long line of cars.  I pushed her stuff right past them.  Hee hee...

I also brought my toolbox, which made me feel kind of cool, until some kid asked “the maintenance man” if he’d come lower his bed.  Little jerk.

There are so many mini-stories to share, walks through Williamsburg and Yorktown with the cute German girl, Wawa’s after 10:00 PM where everyone under 30 was plowed, weddings on the beach, used microwaves for sale that still contained pop-corn, buildings that echo, patio dinner with guitarist that played “Old Hippie”, pep rallies, and a Dr. stalker.  I might work some of them in later.

Anyway, back to life for a while.  More updates are on the way.  As the story unfolds for us, I’ll share with all of you..............