It happened.  Of course I knew it would happen.  She is my last born child and, the last time I checked,  all the other bedrooms were empty – but it still seems a little unreal that my last child went off to college.  It still surprises me when I pass her bedroom and the door is open and beyond that door, the room is clean.  That room hasn’t stayed clean for more than a day in the last ten years and, consequently, the door remained shut most of the time.  But now, now the door is open and I have got to figure out what the heck to do with my life.

The first week after she merrily went off to school, I spent much of my time organizing and cleaning the closets which I had neglected for the last, oh, twenty years.  Children are a convenient excuse to avoid these gaping oversights in our lives.  When the kids were here I could find something more interesting to do than cleaning.  There were always cookies to bake, locker tags to cut out or children to nag about homework or garbage or dirty laundry.  The latter is especially true with girls.  Teenage girls try on many clothes but they have not developed the skills necessary to master the tricky coat hanger.  They can’t seem to figure out how to get the clothes on the hangers and back in the closet so, alas, the clothes join the pile that could be defined as “clothes to put in the laundry basket on laundry day when mom screams for laundry because she can’t get to the hamper to collect laundry because of the clothes (soon to be laundry) all over the bedroom floor”.  Only a parent will understand this sentence.

The second week, I began to obsess over the things I had forgotten to tell her.  I know she didn’t listen to much I said that last year of high school.  It’s  all part of what is now termed as “Senioritis”. (Note to self-check and see if this word has made the dictionary or medical journal and is there a cure?)  I have three incredible children and I can honestly say they all suffered from this condition.  But back to what I forgot to tell her.  I know I forgot to tell her not to use a lawyer who advertises on television.  Oh Lord, don’t let her ever need a lawyer.  I forgot to tell her not to borrow money from friends or family unless she routinely calls them mom or dad.  Did I teach her how to budget her time?  Probably not because I haven’t been a pro at this skill.  Thank God she will be home this summer and I can tell her all the insightful things that have come to my mind at two in the morning.  I should start a list.  Is there a condition called “summer after Freshman yearitis”?  I’ll also check into that later.

The third week I decided to start a blog and here I am doing it in the ninth week.  I am a notorious procrastinator.  I spent most of last month worrying (also notorious worrier) about the problems I would have starting a blog because my children are not here to show me how to do or-more honestly – do these things for me.  This explains why I can’t do a  lot for myself.  I wanted a picture of me in front of my impressive library with all the books I intend to read now that I have time, but I can’t find the wire thingy that connects my phone to my computer.  Oh well, all three kids will be here at Thanksgiving.  Surely one of them will feel sorry for me and help me add a picture.

I suppose that is enough random musing for today.  I can actually say I accomplished something.  I still don’t know exactly what I am going to do with myself but this is a start.  I have something to obsess over other than my children.  I can almost hear their collective sigh of relief.

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