I've been in college far too long. I've failed terribly and I've thrived epically too. But after a while, you should just be done. Like Sam Hartman. My family knows that I'm not a big fan. If you are 24 playing against kids who are on average 19 and 20, maybe it's time to move on. I mean I know it's tempting, but really, maybe you need to play against people your own age? Sorry, Sam.
I'm not done for those reasons and I don't mean that I'm a student either. I'm a mom of college-age kids. For the past 6 years, since 2017, I have had one or more kids in college. And those are where I've had my toughest losses and my greatest gains. It hasn't been easy. Some days I'm on my A-game. Some days I'm on the DL - the disabled list, or the down low. I shouldn't be in the game, but they still play me. I don't have any good answers and I forget to turn off my teacher voice. It's different having kids in college than when I actually attended college. Then I signed up for a major and took classes and found all the answers in books. And the lectures from the professors. And lots of lessons from my classmates. And lots from teammates too. But now, there are no books. There are no plays I can memorize and no study halls I can attend. It's just a little bit of experience, a little bit of stories I've heard from other moms, and a lot of listening to myself, but mostly listening to my kids. These are tough lessons to learn. For each kid, there is a different set of rules. When we picked up Jay at school, he was happy to answer all our questions. He was happy to share who his friends were, where they were from, what he'd been doing, how he slept and what he ate. And when he said, "Any more questions?" Annie yelled at him, "What are you doing? Now you are setting the rest of us up to have to answer all their questions!" We learned quickly not to do that with her. Good lesson.
Today, one of these scenarios unfolded. My youngest had a crew regatta in Princeton. It was a beautiful day! Low 60s, some sun and some clouds, a gorgeous flat river, and trees of all hues lining the course. A stone bridge where we could line up with other families to cheer on our boats as they rowed underneath. He even recognized me from out on the river as I was wildly thrashing my arms about. He turned to his friends in the boat saying, "Hey, is that my mom?" and the whole boat turned to look at us up on the bridge as they passed beneath. We waved and cheered. Epic moment. For me. Poor Charlie.
When they had docked and de-rigged and were warming up and eating, we hugged and talked and laughed about home and the dog and what's been happening. We hadn't seen him in a few weeks and lots had gone on and while we had communicated via FaceTime once or twice, they were quick conversations punctuated by meal times and upcoming tests and "Gotta go, Mom. Love ya." There was not a lot of time to assess how things really were. So today was that time. And he filled us in on school and campus and friends. And it was wonderful. It was bliss. And then I failed. I failed to follow the basic law of family - which is don't ask outside resources what they think. And that's exactly what he called me out on. And I don't know why I did it. Why ask another mom to back you up when you know that will backfire, sealing your fate? Don't do it! It's not fair. Why did I do it? Because he was using his teammates as his backup and I tried to up the ante. Not cool. Incomplete pass. Or maybe a turnover. She's on the opposing team as far as he's concerned.
I've learned a lot these last 6 years. I would write a manual if I could, but I don't think it's possible. What would the chapter titles be? Letting Go. Sure, everyone knows that. But how do you do it? That's impossible to put into words. Calming Down. As in maybe you don't need to wave both arms overhead at the same time after your son has just completed a harrowing race? Shutting Up. Another easy one, except that in the moment you just want to say one. more. thing. Seeking Advice. Never, never, never from another kid's mom. Especially in front of your own kid.
So, I guess I can't leave college yet, or I couldn't even if I tried. I have at least 2 1/2 more years. With graduate school looming, who knows how long? And I'm not ready to graduate. I haven't learned all the lessons yet. But maybe, like Sam Hartman, I'll just learn to take responsibility and bear the losses. Maybe that's a good lesson too, for both Charlie and me. Maybe he is the author of this manual. Jay had his own, and Annie her own, and Matt his own. And that's how I'll have to learn - from them. I just wish I got a nice fancy diploma at the end. I think I've earned it.
