So, they are on their own and yet they are not. You worry about where they are at 2am on a Sunday morning and yet you don’t. You wanna know if they have an assignment that is overdue but you know there is no upside in asking. You see a picture posted on your blog and you wanna believe that she has not befriended the crackhead down the street but then again, that picture.

College freshman are scary. All pretense that you are in control is stripped away. They just do whatever and whenever and you hope and pray that the whatever involves their assignments and their whenevers involves meeting deadlines.

Early on in the semester, I’d reach out to Scout. How’s it going? A lot of work? And she’d tell me. And anything she told me scared me. The more I knew the more I worried.

And so now I’m phobic. I’m afraid to ask her how she is doing. She might tell me.

Who knows? I might find out that instead of writing a term paper she is scouring a website that includes an alphabetized list of phobias. I might learn that instead of studying, she is stuffing her roommate into a suitcase.

OK, well maybe I’m not afraid of all college freshman. Just Scout. I’m Scoutphobic.

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I am procrastinating.
Although I am afraid that the paper I am writing will never be finished, I have become entirely consumed in this website. I am turning into my mother(s).

ps- In order to understand the reference of the picture you have to visit the site

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It has come to my attention that in my most recent post (which I would like to add, was posted three hours into an expository writing term paper) makes my roomate and myself look disturbingly akin to the crack heads who live down the street. We do not always look like this. In fact, I recall that the picture was taken becuase we realized just how ridiculous we looked.

Also, I would like to apologize to myself as well as Anna for belitteling the daily hours and efforts we actually put into our writing assignments. We do not simply bullshit. We find it insanely annoying to have to produce so much work all the time, but (thanks to our parents) our constitutions are not built to bullshit. However, we did learn this past weekened that our constitutions are built to go to the spa.

You see, when one has spent all of ones capital on a specific product, and they feel that their specialization will only take them so far (and that their supply curve is in no way near the demand curve), one wants nothing more than to take the aformentioned product and squeeze it between their fingers so tightly that all the ink, embedded deep within the paper, drips sentence by sentence, down into a pool of warm relaxing water. Then, one desires nothing more than to magically place that warm relaxing water in a ten foot tub, free from all gross globs of someone else’s hair, and have a refreshing bath. Maybe one will add bubbles, as well. Who knows.

Either way, I am starting to understand what grownups have been saying all along. When I used to ask “is it really hard?” I would get those stereotypical phrase responses. You know, phrases like, “Oh, College!” Or, “[chuckles] Oh, College!” Or my favorite, the simple “[chuckles] College!”

Phrases like that used to remind of the story Joan once told me an experience she had in college where she used her baseball hat, bowls, and just about anything else, to collect (and I assume chug) beer which was being squirted out of a truck. She made it seem like it was some sort of Homecoming celebration where Bud Light rained over Fordham from the skies of the Bronx.

But as I said, College=High School^nth, meaning that: although I realize that my mother’s story sounds amazing, I appreciate it as the golden gems it is. It is the kind of story you tell your kids; the kind you tell over and over again and show off.

It is obvious now that those “glamorous” stories are the only stories outsiders hear about the college experience becuase in reality, college is in fact really really hard.

No one wants to say that, of course, so they just resort to the script. “[chuckles] College!”

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College is hard.

We thought it was going to be easier than this.
But on the other side, we didn’t anticipate it being this much fun.

We’ve come to the conclusion that college= high school^nth
Or maybe thats’s just how I would put it since I just got out of Econ class and my mind is working on math-mode…Anna, having just been in a film class, might use words or story boards to represent our shared thought.

Either way, we have become master bullshitters. The most important thing that I have leanred so far (other than how to illegally download stuff from the internet, how to write a thesis statement, and how our economy works) it is that bullshitting is a golden tool.

Have an idea for a paper that could be easily summed up in a page? TOO BAD! You’re going to have to write six! That means five whole pages of bullshit!

-Find as many quotes as you possibly can (of course, make sure you MLA-format them)
-Make wikipedia your best friend
-Learn to just write anything you can possibly ever think of no matter how much you may want to stop writing. Just keep writing. Write more than you can possibly fathom writing. And then write more. And then get more quotes. And then format them.

And a final one my suitemate taught me…

-If you make your periods and commas size 14 font, for every three pages you gain half a page, and it’s totally undetectable.

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I look at this picture that Scout sent me last night and I have so many reactions. Where to begin? Well, let’s start with Eileen’s reaction. That is the easiest one to predict. “Don’t you think she had a paper due instead of shoving her roommate into a roller board?”

Then we might want to try to predict the reaction of Scout’s roommate’s parents - Glen and Jancy down in Austin, TX . The same Eileen thought might have crossed their minds - I don’t know them well enough. I do know them well enough to know that this photo made them laugh.

But I’ve been taking laughing to a new extreme. I have been laughing inconsolably since I saw it. I have so many questions. So many reactions.

1) who’s idea was this? 2) was this the only roller board they tried or did they get all their roommates to pull out their suitcases to find the ideal one 3) is the roller board actually zipped? 4) how many shots did they take to get this priceless one? 5) were they sober at the time of this photo shoot? 6) is anyone else besides Anna in the rollerboard? 7) Where were they planning on going - they appear to be heading somewhere. Does this picture imply that we should set an additional place at the Christmas dinner table? 9) Could this mean that Scout may come home at Christmas without dirty laundry? 10) Why does Scout look so happy? 11) What brand is the roller board - I’d like to link to their website - I bet they don’t know how well people actually fit into their luggage. What an amazing new marketing opportunity.

I don’t have much hope that Scout will respond to any of these questions. I’d like to think she’s too busy working on papers and studying - finals are just around the corner. But there is a part of me (a rather significant part) that believes they are planning their next photo shoot. And a word of caution. Scout, if you decide to move on from luggage to household appliances, avoid the oven - that feels risky. But removing fridge shelves and all those rotting half-empty yogurt containers (and those Corona bottles) coud provide ample room for Anna’s next adventure.

Our college tuition dollars at work.

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The two of them have always looked like they just walked off the set of “Fiddler on the Roof” - there is no mistaking them.?Ǭ†?Ǭ† I just want to say something about this picture.?Ǭ† This is exactly what Ben looks like and exactly who he is.?Ǭ† Calm, sweet, kind.?Ǭ†?Ǭ† And I hate to say it but I know it’s true.?Ǭ† Ben’s eyes are “dreamy.”

He doesn’t seem to know it yet and I have no intention of telling him.?Ǭ† He’ll figure it out soon enough.

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OK,?Ǭ† I changed the lyrics to the song.?Ǭ† The line goes “Is this the little girl I carried?” ?Ǭ† But Eileen did all the carrying.?Ǭ† Maybe I should have gone with “Is this the little girl I schlepped?”

Let me be clear.?Ǭ† For those of you horrified that Kit might have looked like this at the synagogue, fear not.?Ǭ† This is what she looked like later that evening.?Ǭ† Hair and makeup courtesy of Barry Gordin Salon in NYC.?Ǭ† Beautiful straight teeth courtesy of Dr. Edward Gold.

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Regular readers of this blog have complained that I have not written about the bar / bat mitzvah celebration. I’ve been having trouble with the image manager on the site and wanted to wait until I could share photos.

Here are some of our guests. They are enjoying the good company, the warmth and joy of the occasion and the baby lamb chops. There seems to be something about baby lamb chops. It doesn’t matter what else you are serving. People dig lamb chops.

I learned something else. There are two kinds of people who dig lamb chops. My mom falls into one category. She was smart enough to know how much everyone loves baby lamb chops so she was not shy. She had three or four of them. She said she ate them with her hands. Gotta love my mother.

Then there is the category I fall into. Actually, it’s the category a good number of our house guests fell into. It’s the “I can’t wait to dig into the leftovers” category. It’s the “I’ll just have one right now and not make a pig of myself. I’ll even eat it with a fork and knife. Later I’ll raid the fridge and slobber all over a few of them” category.

My friend Kim was right there with me. So too our friend Sheila. And of course Eileen.

There we were, barely standing after a very long and fabulous day. It seemed as if we all arrived in the kitchen on cue. As if there was some baby lamb chop karma in the air.

I began to rummage through the fridge. Huh. I don’t see the lamb chops. We have a second fridge in the garage (Eileen likes to be prepared in case 25 people drop by unexpectedly for dinner). No lamb chops.

First we were puzzled. The caterers left us with so much of their delicious food (www.showstoppersny.com). One by one, we each take yet another look. No lamb chops.

Then the analysis begins. Didn’t you see leftover baby lamb chops?, Kim asks me. I’m sure I did, I reply. I wonder if we’ve been robbed. Should I have checked everyone’s bags before they left.?Ǭ† We were getting pathetic. And desperate. We found ourselves obsessing about the lamb chops, talking about how delicious they were. Did you eat yours with your fingers or with a knife and fork?, Kim asks. Now I wish I’d picked that damned lamb chop up and licked it clean, I replied.

I know that I was thinking that I should be kvelling about the kids, talking about how wonderful the service was, how much I loved having all our loved ones together. But I just couldn’t help myself. No one could.

There was only one conclusion to reach based on the evidence. The catering staff also fell into the “I can’t wait to dig into the leftovers” category, too. (Note: good for them. They worked hard and deserved every last morsel)

Oh, there was one other conclusion to reach. Next time I see baby lamb chops on a buffet, I’m going to take a lesson from my mom’s playbook. I’ll put my martini in one hand and will seize the moment. And those scrumptious baby lamb chops.

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Parents of college kids have weighed in on my post about the things you really don’t want to hear your college kid say to you - either via email, text or voice mail.

My favorite reaction came from a dear old friend (emphasis on the word ‘dear’ and not the word ‘old’)

?Ǭ†I am all too familiar with the nonchalant statement, designed to scare the pants off of you.?Ǭ† I am very proud to report that a few weeks ago, when my college senior son announced that money was so tight (the large sums he made this summer having gone to support the beer and wing industry), that he was considering “selling his plasma, ” I was able to say “Well, it’s yours to sell.”?Ǭ†?Ǭ† Now that , my friends, is progress!

For those of you who think that toddlers are a lot of work, I suggest you re-read this quote a few times….

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NOTE: no pix today. image manager being repaired.

I really don?¢‚Ǩ‚Ñ¢t have great gift ideas. I came up with that title so that people who were googling around looking might stumble upon the blog (hey ?¢‚Ǩ‚Äú at least I?¢‚Ǩ‚Ñ¢m honest).

First off, the gift of choice for most is cash. It?¢‚Ǩ‚Ñ¢s simple, easy and travels well. How much to give? Jews have a rule ?¢‚Ǩ‚Äú the amount should be in multiples of 18 divided by the square root of 4 minus the number of years since you?¢‚Ǩ‚Ñ¢ve been potty trained plus the number of years you?¢‚Ǩ‚Ñ¢ve been nagging your parents to get a dog. If that is too complicated, just go with the multiple of $18. The number 18 means ?¢‚Ǩ?ìchai.?¢‚Ǩ¬ù Not the Starbucks latte. Hebrew for ?¢‚Ǩ?ìlife.?¢‚Ǩ¬ù

Not everyone likes to give cash. Impersonal they think. Our son Ben couldn?¢‚Ǩ‚Ñ¢t agree more. He would prefer neither cash nor gift certificates. He wants to know that people actually thought about him and just the right gift for him. Something special. Something personal. He wants to know that some thought was really given to what he would like.

As long as those thoughts tie into his interests and needs.

And so being the kind soul that he is, he spent hours the other day crafting a word document that takes you through gift ideas step by step. He loves to play Magic: The Gathering and so he listed about 2 dozen cards he needs. He is thoughtful, listing the website address, instructions on how to search for the cards. He even suggests that thoughtful gift-givers have the cards sent directly to his home address. He also encourages gift givers to check back with him to let him know what purchase they made so he can coordinate to avoid duplicates.

He allows for the maximum in creativity, huh?

After Magic cards, he moved on to video games. I don?¢‚Ǩ‚Ñ¢t know about you but when I read these titles, I think Jewish adult. Here are a few samples.

- Smackdown vs. Raw 2008
- Def Jam Vendetta Fight for NY
- Pimp My Ride
- Celebrity Death Match
- Blow the Yarmulke off that Guy?¢‚Ǩ‚Ñ¢s Head (ok, I made that one up)

Kit, on the other hand, was not quite as thoughtful. In fact she was not thoughtful at all. She had no thoughts. When prompted for gift ideas, her simple response:
?¢‚Ǩ?ìI have no clue.?¢‚Ǩ¬ù

T minus 6.

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Why does your son or daughter feel inclined to call you and tell you things that worry you to death or drive you completely out of your mind? Sometimes they come in the form of phone calls. Sometimes, if you are luckier, it?¢‚Ǩ‚Ñ¢s a text message. The text message does not demand a response in quite the same way and therefore you can avoid being sucked in to say something stupid.

I have a sense that this little list is just for starters.

Here?¢‚Ǩ‚Ñ¢s what we?¢‚Ǩ‚Ñ¢ve got after 8 weeks:

1) ?¢‚Ǩ?ìI haven?¢‚Ǩ‚Ñ¢t eaten in days?¢‚Ǩ¬ù What exactly are you supposed to do with that one? You might be able to come up with some other reactions to that one but the only one that makes any sense to me is ?¢‚Ǩ?ìWhy not, you idiot??¢‚Ǩ¬ù (my default is always set to ?¢‚Ǩ?ìsupportive.?¢‚Ǩ¬ù)

What I am not clear about is what Scout hopes to gain from this comment. Is she looking for suggestions about how to eat ? Is she intimating that we should send a care package? She couldn?¢‚Ǩ‚Ñ¢t possibly be looking for sympathy, could she? if the answer here is yes, she should call the other mom.

2) ?¢‚Ǩ?ìI have absolutely no money!
I believe that #2 has typically come hand-in-hand with #1 or when Scout needs to get somewhere and is about to miss something we believe to be important. Oh yeah, it usually comes in what feels like nano seconds after I have deposited a minimum of $200 in her account.

During these somewhat combative conversations, I did learn that the $35 she spends on her weekly manicure/pedicure (?¢‚Ǩ?ìmani/pedi?¢‚Ǩ‚Ñ¢s?¢‚Ǩ¬ù) is an incredible bargain.

Yippee.

3) ?¢‚Ǩ?ìWow, the emergency room is so close to campus?¢‚Ǩ¬ù
And they take credit cards! Doesn?¢‚Ǩ‚Ñ¢t get any better than that. This one does not come by text ?¢‚Ǩ‚Äú college students need to hear your empathetic, maternal voice. If you?¢‚Ǩ‚Ñ¢re really lucky, your college student will be a repeat customer and you might get the opportunity to hear him or her say ?¢‚Ǩ?ìIt was nice. They recognized me at the ER this morning!?¢‚Ǩ¬ù

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?Ǭ†

Note:?Ǭ† Wordpress problem this a.m.?Ǭ† No capability to add a pic.?Ǭ† Will add later.

For nearly a decade I led an organization that worked to fight stereotypes about gay and lesbian people.?Ǭ† While stereotypes have their roots in reality, relying on them can be disrespectful or worse.

So imagine my horror when I saw my spouse fall into this trap herself.?Ǭ† But her slip up was not about gay and lesbian people.?Ǭ† It was about college freshman.?Ǭ† College freshman guys to be exact.

Scout has now been a college freshman for two months.?Ǭ† In those two months, Scout has lost about 7-8 pounds (clearly she got the whole ?¢‚ǨÀúfreshman 10?¢‚Ǩ‚Ñ¢ thing backwards).?Ǭ† On a recent trip home (due to illness), Eileen and I interrogated her about nutrition.?Ǭ† She admits that she is not eating well.

But the dining hall is so nice, Eileen says.?Ǭ† It?¢‚Ǩ‚Ñ¢s just too big, Scout responds.?Ǭ† There are so many people there all the time.Did she not get the memo that dining halls are big and serve many people??Ǭ† That is in fact why they are called dining halls.

So instead she opts for the small, intimate New York Pizza parlor on Tremont just off Boylston.?Ǭ†?Ǭ†?Ǭ† A lovely place where college students and crackheads meet to eat.

Eileen is nearly apoplectic at this point.?Ǭ† She sees feeding her children well as one of the reasons she is here.?Ǭ†?Ǭ† She begins to spin out.?Ǭ† Oh, and you hang out with those college guys at Northeastern and they have their own apartment.?Ǭ†?Ǭ† How much pizza and beer can you consume?

There it was.?Ǭ† The stereotype.?Ǭ† All college guys eat pizza and drink beer.

Scout is momentarily speechless (emphasis on word ?¢‚ǨÀúmomentarily?¢‚Ǩ‚Ñ¢).?Ǭ† Is that what you think??Ǭ† She is now indignant.?Ǭ†?Ǭ† I?¢‚Ǩ‚Ñ¢ll have you know that I was at their apartment the other night and they made dinner, she harrumphs.?Ǭ† The guys made stuffed shrimp!

Eileen has been put in her place.?Ǭ† Shame on her.?Ǭ† Eileen, who is in many ways very very responsible for igniting a passion for cooking in young men with her years as the programming chief at Food Network.

She asks quietly.?Ǭ† How was the stuffed shrimp?

Oh, Scout says.?Ǭ† They weren?¢‚Ǩ‚Ñ¢t cooking for all of us so a bunch of us went out for pizza.

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For the next seven days we turn our attention to these little lima beans. I’m sure that Scout will find her way into some of these posts but this week, Ben and Kit take center stage. A week from tomorrow, Ben and Kit will become Jewish adults.

I’m excited for them. I’m proud of them. They have worked really hard (much harder than I ever remember working for any of my Catholic milestone ceremonies) and it will give us such joy to celebrate them.

It will also be a joy for us to bring our family and friends together. It’s really only happened once before for us - at Scout’s bat mitzvah. Unlike other couples who have been together 24 years, we didn’t have a wedding in July 1983. There’s no wedding album. We haven’t had a big anniversary party and no one sends us anniversary cards. I don’t say this in an “oh poor us” way at all. It is what it is. I say it because it makes a celebration like the upcoming one even more precious to us.

I know that a bar / bat mitzvah is supposed to be a transformative experience for the newly crowned Jewish adult standing on the bimah (altar for you Christian readers out there). I know they learn a great deal about themselves in the process. But I think that at Scout’s bat mitzvah in 2002, I feel like I became a Jewish adult. In an Irish Catholic sort of way. You see, they tell you the kids are supposed to learn alot from the experience. No one tells you how much you learn.

You learn about the power of publicly acknowledging your children - standing in front of your community of friends and family and talking publicly about what you kid means to you. It’s surprisingly hard to do - public “sharing” isn’t always easy. That’s probably why we all don’t do it often enough. I learned how much it means to your J.A. (Jewish adult). Particularly at this time in their lives.

They are no longer lima beans. Or maybe matzoh balls would be the better analogy. What I really learned about bat and bar mitzvah celebrations is that they are timed brilliantly. In many ways it is the perfect ceremony at the perfect age.

I think of it as “Last Exit Before Bridge.” With Scout it seemed like moments after she became bat mitzvah, she started to move in some different direction. It was at this moment that we began to contend with the challenging terrain of the teenage years, years in which we often spoke and acted as if we didn’t like each other very much. Actually there was much more screaming than speaking.

The ceremony launches them in a way - into a new world. A world in which they are given more rope, a world in which we learn to start to let go of them - just a little - to see what happens.

Equally as important, the ceremony grounds them in the world they have always known. It reinforces the importance of family, of culture, of heritage and of faith. Without this foundation, it is much more difficult to stay on the bucking bronco that is the teenage years.

I didn’t know all this when Scout had her bat mitzvah. It’s something I learned in the months and years that have followed.

And so we will stand on the bimah next Saturday and, knowing what I now know, I can imagine that it will be very emotional. It is, for us, the day when we have to begin to redefine what it means to hug someone tight.

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I did not google “fall foliage” to get this beautiful shot. I took it myself. With the brand new camera I got from my family for that birthday I wasn’t so excited about. I took the camera along with Eileen on a week’s vacation to Vermont. With camera. Without kids. Perhaps you are wondering how we managed that. Well, while Scout is ever-present in our lives, she lives in Boston now, muddling her way through her first semester of college. So she was not there. At least not physically. Ben and Kit were away on a class trip for a whole week. On a working farm. Spring Brook Farm to be exact. Working. Ben milked a cow, Kit bottle fed baby calves.

We hiked. Really. When we told Ben we were going hiking in Vermont, he said, much to Eileen’s consternation, “Mom doesn’t strike me as the hiking type.”

After she stopped muttering under her breath that she would have done more hiking if raising three kids took just slightly less time and energy, she moved to a different place - seeing Ben’s comment as a challenge.

Eileen did just fine. See below.

Take that Ben.

As for me, I fell in the parking lot. Right smack on the knee surgery knee. I was comforted by the words of my surgeon that rang in my ears. Once you get to October, you can do anything.

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Yes, I know, I’m sure my wording of that title is awful. But give me a break. I’ve been writing essays out the wazoo. I need to have a little improper grammar every now and again.

So Joan turned 50 this past week. The big FIVE OH. Somehow it doesn’t quite seem like a birthday week. In fact, I too had a birthday this past week. And while it was a great day, I still didn’t feel like it was time for another cake.

But this week should have been a big birthday week! The big FIVE OH and the big EIGHT TEEN. But for some reason we didn’t make such a huge deal about it.

I was told to make a big deal out of mine. “GO BUY PORN!” I heard about 100 times. I opted for Advil Cold and Sinus instead.

But it seemed that Joan was told not to make a big deal out of her’s. As if it was embarrassing. As if turning the big FIVE OH meant she was any more than simply one day older than she was the day before.

Joan herself told me, “eh, I don’t want to make a big deal out of it.” So OKAY, I thought. I won’t. If she doesn’t want a parade, I wont throw her one.

I let the day go by with a mere two phone calls. I thought that’s what she wanted. It seemed like she was having a hard time grappling with the big FIVE OH. So I chose to follow the quintessential Joan approach of, “if you ignore it, it basically won’t exist anymore.”

I thought I could do it.

But I’m sorry, I can’t really ignore it. I can’t really ignore the big FIVE OH. I can’t really ignore all of the accomplishments made in the FIVE OH years, or the EIGHT TEEN of those I’ve been around for. I just can’t. And if that’s a little bit immature of an EIGHT TEEN year old, the to hell with it. I‘m 8 years old too.

I thought everyone should see the pictures I took of Joan at the Yankees game we all went to this past weekend. It was the game where they actually played exceptionally well. Joe Torre’s job was on the line, and they won. It was really emotional when they won. Everyone was really ecstatic. And cheering. Everyone felt proud. They all had huge smiles of their faces.

I like to imagine that this was the parade for Joan’s birthday. Maybe it wasn’t directed right at her, but this is how I secretly felt on her big FIVE OH day. I was really emotional. I was really ecstatic for her. I cheered for her. I was so proud. And even if I was over the phone, 400 miles away in Boston, and she couldn’t see, I had a huge smile on my face.

Please note that she still looks 8 years old.

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I carry a card around with me. A Mother’s Day card Scout made for me years ago. A drawing on the cover - a kid standing on her head. The text inside reads “You’re like an 8 year old trapped in a grownup’s body. I hope you always stay that way.”

Today is my 50th birthday. When I look in the mirror, I see someone with wrinkles, someone who colors her hair (it’s just this one patch of gray that I have fixed - I swear). The image always surprises me because I expect to see this picture. This is how I feel.

And of course the truth is that, although I have a much better haircut, I still wear clothes like this. This jacket belonged to one of my brothers. It was way too big. I loved it. See how happy I look? My mother couldn’t stand it - not exactly what she had in mind. And while as I sit here, I am in fact wearing my own clothes, yesterday I wore Ben’s shorts and one of his t-shirts. They are comfy. I have no doubt Tim Gunn would toss every item in my closet. I saw an episode of his new show yesterday. He was dissing his “victim” for wearing clothes she probably wore in junior high. I can beat that. I wear the kind of clothes I wore when I was eight (see photo above).

50 has a certain ring to it. This morning, it had a certain sting to it. Then I woke up this morning to find a front page New York Times story: “Aging and Gay, and Facing Prejudice in Twilight.” The photo is a picture of a 76 year old man feeding his 71 year old partner struggling with Alzheimer’s disease. I put my head in my hands when I saw it and read the headline to Eileen. She said “Even straight people get Alzheimer’s, Joan.” She was missing the part that got me. It was the 71 part.

We all find ourselves asking the big questions when we hit milestone birthdays. Am I making the most of my life? Should I be doing something differently from what I am doing? Am I a good person? What do I want to do when I grow up?

After midnight last night, I found myself being eaten up by some of these questions.?Ǭ† I got cranky and then I went to sleep.?Ǭ† I woke up this morning to find a hilarious e-card waiting for me and the wave of self-pity passed.?Ǭ† When I picked up the Times and saw that article,?Ǭ† the headline made me laugh.

So I’ve been spending the day thinking about better questions to ask myself.

How could I be so lucky??Ǭ† Why did Eileen walk down the hall and introduce herself to me at MTV in July 1981? ?Ǭ† What if having kids was not on her ‘to do’ list??Ǭ† How did we manage to find a wonderful town to raise our kids??Ǭ† How could we be so fortunate to have three really nice kids? ?Ǭ† Should I take up bridge and crossword puzzles and martinis so that I can be a healthy and happy 80 year old like my mom??Ǭ† How many people in this world have the opportunity to spend nearly 10 years of their working lives combining something they are good at with something they care about??Ǭ† What an amazing gift to be able to spend time at home with our kids?

I have miles to go.?Ǭ† Many of them I hope. Not sure where I’m headed but I know Eileen will be with me. I am confident that the journey will enrich me in ways I can’t begin to imagine.?Ǭ† So let the games begin.?Ǭ† Half time show is over - time for the second half.

And you’ll recognize me easily.?Ǭ† I’ll be the one that looks like I’m about 8.

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Scout celebrated her 18th birthday this week. It was odd not to have her here in person. But somehow Scout manages to make herself ever present. It was 11:56pm on October 2, four minutes before her birthday officially began. Eileen and I were out cold. My highly unattractive snoring (which all my children can replicate beautifully) would have given it away. The phone rang. What happens at your house when the phone rings late at night? You panic, right? Yup. That’s what we did. And of course cordless phones are never where you need them. And once you find them they are always out of juice. So we’re racing around the house and finally grab the phone. It was Scout.

No drama. She just wanted to be on the phone with us when her birthday officially began at midnight. I thought this was about the sweetest thing ever. It would not surprise Scout to learn that Eileen’s initial reaction was “What is she doing out so late? Doesn’t she have classes tomorrow?”

Poor Eileen. She clearly had a deprived college experience. One that clearly did not include a contest to build the tallest tower out of beer cans.

Eileen caught herself quickly and jumped right into the sweetness of the moment. There wasn’t a whole lot to talk about but it didn’t matter. I almost felt bad that we hadn’t thought to call her. But then when I remembered that I had spent several hours trying to arrange for a Tom Cruise impersonator to surprise her and her suitemates (Tom was already booked) (He usually is), my guilt disappeared.

At midnight she said “I’m born” and went back to her whatever. I like to call them “whatevers” - I like being in the dark. I’ve learned that this is one of the best things about your kids going away to college.

Maybe you are wondering why I selected this picture. There were many first day pictures to choose from. First of all, Eileen and I looked awful on October 3, 1989 (though decidedly yonnger) so I had to pick one we were not in. I landed on this one.

I believe it was a case of first impression. The first time I bored Scout. Eileen captured on film. It was, I’m sure, the first of many, many times in which I droned on and on about something or other and put Scout to sleep. (although I can attest to the fact that it is not difficult to get Scout to sleep - it’s just difficult to get her to wake up).

I would also like to say that I hope this is the only time a photograph of Scout wearing bunny ears appears on the internet.

While Eileen and I have no doubt hit high numbers on the boredom Richter scale with Scout, I can say without hesitation that Scout has never been boring.

That day, we had hopes and dream for our little Scoutie. We hoped she would be happy and healthy. We hoped she would do something to make the world a better place. We hoped she would be kind and generous.

I also quietly hoped she would be a Democrat. I really wasn’t sure how I would manage if we gave birth to Alex P. Keaton. After all, the day we found out Eileen was pregnant, we drove home and listened to Dan Quayle being sworn in as Vice President. What if subliminal messages turned her into someone who could turn eighteen and vote for someone like George Bush (who I know refer to as “he who shall not be named.”).

We are lucky. On so many, many levels. We are lucky to have a family. We are lucky to have three great kids. And one flaming Democrat. Two more just in time for the election of 2012.

Just trying to do our part.

Happy Birthday Scout.

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What would freshman year at college be like without a trip to the emergency room? And what would a trip to emergency room be without a photo shoot? This is, I feel, an important insight into the mind of Scout Opatut.

Remember that coveted radio show? The one that runs from 2am-6am? The one she did last Monday when she had a head cold? This would be the radio show that took a head cold and turned it into something of some magnitude.

A terrible cold in which she lost her voice. Just in the nick of time for her first formal presentation in a class called “Fundamentals of Speech.”

A trip to the college Health Center resulted in no prescription. No nothing. If I have learned anything about Scout, it is that she demands affirmation when she is not feeling well. A special shout-out goes to Anna (”the roommate”) who provided mass amounts of affirmation with trips for vegan comfort foods (whatever those are).

Scout finally reached her limit on Friday afternoon (after squeaking to her speech teacher that she’d have to give her speech another day) and off she and Anna went to Tufts New England Medical Center. A quick trip to its website and I can see that it was a fine choice indeed. It even has a “Floating Children’s Hospital.” What do we suppose that is? I’m stumped but intrigued.

So they suspected mono and started her on IV fluids. Pumped with good nutrients,?Ǭ† happy that the mono test came back negative and armed with an antibiotic prescription, Scout could turn her attention to the important work ahead. Chronicling her adventures at Tufts New England Medical Center.

You’ll be pleased to know that Scout is feeling better. Not sure if her voice is in perfect form for her 2am-6am shift tonight (technically Tuesday a.m.). You can hear her in real time at www.wers.org and judge for yourself.

But I had no doubt after she emailed me this photo from the emergency room (with right hand placed perfectly across the brow) that she was going to make it.

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We knew that the second week of college would inject a certain dose of reality into Suite 301. We were also aware that while Scout loved the vegan gift basket our friend Bill sent her, she did not react well to all that vegan chocolate (I’ll just leave it at that). Lastly, we seem to have some kind of need to have Scout’s 5 suitemates like us. I’m not sure what that is about but it’s probably unhealthy.

So we did a little research and landed on Edible Arrangements. I do not typically use blog posts to promote products and services but I decided to for two reasons - (1) I think it’s incredible and (2) I had to explain the picture.

A growing franchise, Edible Arrangements delivers beautifully designed and delicious fresh fruit. We’ve received a few as gifts and sent a few so we know it’s no fluke. Arrangements are priced from under $50 to well over $100. If you spend about $125, you can get an arrangement like the one pictured above (teenagers sold separately).

Scout was kind enough to send this photo along to illustrate how much the girls are enjoying the fruit. Scout is pictured here with roommate Anna.?Ǭ† We think it is important to be very, very nice to her.

And once again, Scout demonstrates why she has a radio show. On WERS 88.9 and on the web at www.wers.org

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I’m happy for her. Really. Don’t think that this picture is some sophomoric effort to mask my jealousy. It’s not. Really. I just thought you should see that Scout has a big mouth, thus affirming her choice as one of the new on air personalities at WERS (the # 1 college station in America. Dammit.)

Would this be the right time to mention that I have been working on a radio show proposal? That I am out shopping for underwriters? It’s taking time as I imagined it would. And I suppose I should acknowledge that Scout filled out an application, had one interview and bada-bing, bada-boom, she had a radio show.

While I may be self absorbed (or as Scout used to say when she was about 7, “self-absorbent”), I am also thrilled for her. Her first show was Tuesday morning. And when I say morning, I mean morning. Like 2am - 6am.

Eileen and I are good parents and we set our alarm for 5am. We set up my laptop and brought the WERS feed to itunes. It was easy. And then there she was. She told us what station we were listening to, the song we had just heard, the song before that and the song coming up. She said her name. We felt like the parents at the end of The Music Man who hear their kids play band instruments for the first time. Of course there is a huge difference because Scout was brilliant.

I did have visions of a Lucy Ricardo thing going on behind the scenes at WERS. I imagined the engineer smacking Scout awake just before each of her appearances. We should have had more faith. She was busy pushing buttons, finding songs on the database and trying to strategically select a longer song each time she had to hit the restroom.

I haven’t told Scout this yet but our friend Jack tells us that this is how Larry King got his start - with a Midnight to 6am syndicated radio show.

If she hits it big, I don’t need a radio show. Go, Scoutie go!

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