Posted: 6/06/03
DOWN HOME:
The kid's home; we adjusted OK
Sometimes, the worst part of any new event is all the “expert” information you get ahead of time.
Take medical procedures, please. If you've ever had surgery and other people knew about it in advance, you probably heard enough worst-case scenarios to fill several episodes of “ER.”
Years ago, I had a hernia repaired, and several of my friends found out in advance. They managed to remember every stitches-ripping malfunction and every gauze-left-in-the-gizzard malpractice known to medical science. Turns out, the operation and recuperation were a walk around the block (just what the doctor ordered) compared to listening to my buddies recite everything that could go wrong.
| MARV KNOX Editor |
All that came to mind this spring as we anticipated the return of our oldest daughter, Lindsay, from her first year at college.
“Oh, you'll have a terrible adjustment,” folks with older kids would tell her mother, Joanna, and me. “Once they've been 'on their own,' they have the dickens of a time learning to settle back into the family routine.”
They predicted most of the problems would revolve around curfew, or the lack of it. “When they're at school, they come and go as they please,” veteran parents would say. “They just hate to give up that freedom.”
Well, I have to say I needed about five hours to “adjust” to Lindsay coming home from Hardin-Simmons University this summer. That's about how long it took us to load the rest of her stuff in our cars (she had hers almost fully packed before I arrived), drive home to Lewisville and unpack.
Ta-da! Our girl was home for the summer.
OK, sometimes she's not home when I want to go to bed. But Jo and I learned a couple of things this past school year while she was away: First, we trust this kid to make good decisions. Second, when she was gone, we couldn't sit up waiting for her to get in for the night, because we didn't know when she got in for the night, and we don't have to wait up now. We leave the den light on, and she turns it off when she comes home. We all sleep better.
Now, I must admit, Jo has heard a line (Lindsay hasn't tried it on me yet) that's new this summer: “But I'm almost an adult.”
Sorry, kiddo. “Almost” only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades. “Almost” doesn't pay tuition bills or make the car note. As parents, we still have a little clout.
Fortunately, I've noticed the arrangement isn't purely financial. After a school year away, eating cafeteria food, washing her own clothes and taking care of herself, Lindsay seems to appreciate us more than ever.
And you know what? I appreciate her more, too. Man, I missed her when she was gone. Every day, I thank God for Lindsay and her sister, Molly, and one more summer together.
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