The "More" Child

Hello again!  Yes, it has been awhile.  Thank you to the kind people who commented and asked about my silence. Hard to say why I’ve been away from The More Child.  Combination of things, I suppose.  A huge storm that knocked our power out for four days (we had to dump the entire fridge) and then another day last week.  The general slowing pace of summer and a picking up of the pace at work.  The fact that my day job recently launched a new website built on WordPress, the platform hosting this blog, so that blogging has taken on the faint air of a busman’s holiday.  (Conversely, work just got a little funner ).  Coming across discussion of this blog, my kids and my parenting on a forum.  Not going to pretend: ouch.  Definitely made me draw back.

But I do want to get back in the saddle.  So what’s the news?  Well I suppose it’s that C. is DRIVING.  Gulp.  Right after school finished she and three friends took a drivers ed class in the evenings for two weeks.  In that grand tradition of slightly off-kilter drivers ed teachers, C. was treated to healthy helpings of social commentary along with her passing lane info.   (I know whereof my speak–for a spell my stepfather taught drivers ed.  A truly, truly frightening prospect.)   The class did achieve its objective, namely instilling a healthy fear of driving (“I just want to live in a city and take the bus or walk everywhere.” Like many of generation she doesn’t have a burning desire to “get her wheels,” but she figured she wouldn’t have much time in the coming 2 years and it’s useful.)  She passed the class and then it was off to the DMV out on Rte. 29.  We showed up a half hour early on a Saturday morning, but there was still a long line to get in.  Thankfully once inside things moved along at a decent pace and at the end walked out with a driving permit.  Unlike a regular license, it has a portrait orientation, which I hadn’t seen before.  Her photo makes her look like a ghost, but that’s tradition too, right?  Awful license photos.

I announced the milestone on my Facebook wall and noted that now she just had to complete 60 hours of driving time.  My brother, the ex-military pilot who now lives overseas and possesses a healthy disregard for the American nanny state, wrote “60 hours? You only need 40 hours and 16 years old for a pilot license. Sounds like overkill. Just drive to New Mexico and back.”

The real test, however, has been actual road time.  I was pretty cool the first time, even C. said so, but subsequent outings have been nerve-racking.  I have a constant clutching in my stomach as I glance at the proximity of the right hand curb.  I’ve been reprimanded for my gasping sounds. And I’m not particularly proud of having insisted that I take over when she had a hard time navigating the sharp turn into our driveway, albeit it was at night.   I’m feeling better now that she has completed 6 hours of road time with a driving instructor.  And there is an upside:  mommy has a designated driver!  The other night I had a glass of wine at her friend’s house and let her drive home.

M. has gone and returned from Girl Scout camp, the best darn deal on the planet.  She and her best friend since the age of three attended a two week Rocks and Ropes camp in the Shenandoah mountains.  They had a great time.   Noteworthy achievement was that M. was the only one to make it up a particularly high climb.  I always love when the girls come home from camp. They’re so appreciative.  Showers.  Their bed. Fruit. The Internet.  M. wrote us the sweetest letter while she was gone.   Her laundry was less sweet.  Everything damp and stinky, with her shoes completely encrusted with clay mud.  At least she didn’t bring home a bag full of carpenter ants and larvae, like her sister did.  Now that was completely GROSS.

Other than  comings and goings we’ve been busy shopping and getting ready for C.’s departure.  It’s like packing up for college, just two years early.  The extra long twin sheets, towels, a printer, her own hair dryer, a small rug, a folding bookshelf, plates, cups, shower caddy, over the counter drugs….etc. etc. etc.  Things large and small.  This week she received her dorm assignment and got just what she asked for, a single in a picturesque dorm.  All the preparation has been hard on M., who desperately wishes that she could be going too.   I hope she gets her turn; we’ll be filling out applications this fall.