There are packages of all kinds arriving at our house these days: large, over-sized parcels from UPS, puffy, padded bags from the postal service, and the kind least welcome — small envelopes containing large bills asking for payment of the above packages. If the steamy weather of late were not a dead giveaway to the actual season, one might be fooled into thinking we had sprinted right past autumn to the holidays — Christmas, Hanukah, the time of year when you are supposed to be inundated with large, mysterious wrapped goods.##M:[more]##
It is “dorm shopping” time at the Brossman house, quite a far cry from when I was going to college and my “dorm shopping” meant stripping the bedding off my bed and raiding the family linen closet. Dorm shopping today, part of the huge multimillion dollar back-to-school marketing extravaganza, means huge dollars for merchandisers because of parents who give in to the idea of a fresh start with everything for college, right down to towels and comforters, basic house staples.
One leading national chain cleverly came up with the “Pack and Hold” concept, which means you can pick out and pay for your household items at the store closest to you, and then pick up your purchases at the store closest to school. It makes sense, especially if you have to fly to your destination. In an age where most airlines are requesting payment for a second piece of luggage and some are even charging for the first, this concept is bound to take flight, so to speak.
It is a bittersweet time for us, because in addition to sending the first off to college, which fits the original family timetable, we are also sending the second off to boarding school in California. It’s odd, because just a couple of years ago, when New Jersey Family magazine asked me to write an article about the pros and cons of boarding school, the editor asked me to address the stereotype of boarding schools as escapes for children of divorce, or a haven for the maladjusted. Despite my own research, when Molly announced that she would like to explore boarding schools in California, my first comment, though I was joking, was, “what, you don’t love us any more?”
The more we looked at it as an option for her, however, the more it became apparent that the school where she will be going is the perfect place for her to develop her skills. Stevenson School is in Pebble Beach, the world-renowned golf Mecca, and Molly will be joining the girls’ golf team. It is the perfect blend of athletics, academics, and aesthetics — so close to the waters of Monterey Bay that you can hear the sea lions bark. The girls’ dormitory backs right up to the greens at Spyglass Hill, which normally would mean nothing to me, but if you are a golfer, it is a place that evokes magic.
It is also a stressful time, because in addition to coming up with the first tuition, we have had to scramble to make payments on the second, no small feat. It has been a crash course in cashing in 529s and liquidating stock accounts. I’ve been feeling vaguely guilty about doing so, but have had to remind myself that when these accounts were set up so many years ago, it was precisely for this reason. It is hard to believe that we were told to save for the future, and all of a sudden, that future is here. It is enough to make the head spin.
And that is why I have a constant slideshow running through my head these days, especially when I look at the children, babies seemingly only yesterday, who will be leaving in just two short weeks.
I see the baby who used to nestle her head under my chin and fall asleep with me on the couch, the toddler who used to try to get on the dog’s back for a horsey ride and sing I Love You along with Barney, the kindergartener who fell to the floor kicking and sobbing when I tried to leave. All of these images like a kaleidoscope surround me in a flurry of colors and sounds. For years you are in the throes of child-raising, wondering if you will ever be sane again, and then, suddenly, , those days are over, and they are getting ready to leave you and step into the wide world beyond.
It is now that I am especially glad that I insisted on having a third child and got my way, because without William at home, I would have an empty nest and I am not at all ready to embrace that notion. It also explains why we have another new member of the family — Brady, our golden retriever puppy, came home 10 days ago. For a nine-year-old boy, trading out two sisters for a new dog may be considered somewhat of a wash, and we are hoping that his new “sibling’s” arrival will be a very good distraction for the impending separation.
I also know that saying good-bye is much harder for the party that is left behind, and not as bad for the party that is heading off to the exciting new adventure.
I remember waving good-bye to my family as they pulled away from me at the green in downtown New Haven, my six-year-old brother in the backseat, struggling manfully not to cry. As I turned away and headed back to my dorm, I was more consumed by excitement than sadness.
My mother recently told me the story of how their car pulled away and my brave little brother burst into tears once I was out of sight and he howled for a good part of their drive home. This time, I think, it will be me who bursts into tears, though I will do my best not to embarrass my children and make an exhibit of myself. But then, it wouldn’t be the first time I would embarrass my children, right? Nor would it be the last. Children grow up, but some things stay constant. Thank goodness for that.
