<p>Lucky, lucky 2blue. Your s sounds like a keeper!. My older s was like that. He was willing to hold my hand in public even up into HS. He wasn’t embarassed to be seen with us in public (unlike younger s, who used to make us walk 10 paces behind him). He (older s) was described by someone once, when he as 11, as having “old eyes”. He did always tend to see the world with grown up eyes. That said, he wasn’t always the easiest to live with-- he had strong opinions and would take things to the mat (wonder where he got that from? 
) Now he is more polished and diplomatic in his negotiating skills, and has been able to work out some incredible arrangements for himself and others. Its fun to go along for this ride.</p>
<p>Congrats , gladmom. That is a HUGE step. The first step to fixing a problem is recognizing that there is one.</p>
<p>Wow, gladmom, that is so fantastic of your daughter! You must be both so proud of her and so happy and relieved. </p>
<p>I am lucky, jym. And I love reading this thread. What a great bunch of kids!</p>
<p>Agreed, 2blue. It is fun to hear that our kids are growing up.</p>
<p>That said,</p>
<p>Lafalum84,
Do you think the varsity slacker team has a uniform?? My s wears torn flannel sleeping pants and a t shirt. What does your dau wear (besides Hollister:D)?</p>
<p>Ha ha jym. D is a closet slacker. She looks great in school and in public. She’s constantly busy with tons of EC’s… but at home it’s another story. I can’t find her bed queen-sized bed under the PILE of clothes (dirty? clean? if she can’t figure it out she assumes they’re dirty and gives them back to me to wash AGAIN), and her voice from the couch is a constant stream of, “Mom, can you get me a soda/some popcorn/some mac and cheese?” </p>
<p>I really thought she was turning a corner by wanting to get a job so she could be more financially independent. But apparently it has to be the right kind of job… one that involves being in the sunshine, and hopefully one that will let her wear a bikini (like the Country Club down the street, that has 3 lifeguards for one small-ish pool, and lets them wear whatever they want. She doesn’t want to lifeguard for the YMCA - they have an indoor pool and make you wear a one-piece. Actually, I wouldn’t want to lifeguard at the Y either, the pool has no shallow end and someone drowned there a few years ago, it’s sort of dimly lit and creepy.)</p>
<p>But she may give me some hope yet. We’re flying down to visit my mom next week, who is seriously ill with cancer. D says we’re going there to “cheer her up.” I really hope she’s right.</p>
<p>Actually, now that I think about it, D had a rather adult-like moment when she was 5 years old. We were shoveling the driveway, and she was whining non-stop. When I asked her if she wanted me to help her with her section (the walkway to the front porch), she turned to me and said, “I don’t WANT your help, but I NEED your help. THAT’s my problem.” Out of the mouths of babes…</p>
<p>D1 was 5, D2 was 2, both sitting in the big chair watching Sesame Street. I hear a thump, followed by D2 crying. In the living room I find D2 on the floor and ask D1 “Did you push your sister?” D1: “I don’t call that pushing.” I figured D1 would become a lawyer; she’s now a junior psych major, so maybe that’s close.</p>
<p>D2 just showed us how well she survived by doing the college application process completely on her own (we weren’t even allowed to read her essays), and landing in the top 1% of applicants (re merit scholarship award) at a top large private U.</p>
<p>Fun thread. </p>
<p>My daughter, who has always been a bit of a dreamer and not the one to count on when it comes to help around the house really surprised me one Christmas. I had put on an elaborate buffet for my extended family of 15 or so on Christmas Eve, and I probably used every piece of china, flatware and cooking equipment we own. After everyone left, I put a few things on to soak, but basically left it all to do the next day. It was chaos.
When I got up Christmas morning I went into the kitchen to start coffee and was shocked to see the table and counters spotless and every dish and spoon in its place. My D had set her alarm for 4am and cleaned the entire kitchen on her own. Best Christmas present ever.</p>
<p>S donated a sizable amount of money (hundreds of dollars) from his summer earnings to his high school so that they could install wireless in the athletic center. They are planning to put up a plaque with his name on it.</p>
<p>Not reckless with money, but realizing at a young age that it’s good to give back to those who helped you along the way. Never expected it to happen this soon, though–caught us totally by surprise.</p>
<p>Oh, and he also gives hugs. At the Presidential Scholar medal ceremony, on stage at the Kennedy Center during the presentation of medals, guess which student decided not to just settle for a handshake, but to hug the Chair of the Presidential Scholar Commission, governor’s wife from I don’t recall which state? You guessed it–our S! Others behind him then did the same. It was very nice.</p>
<p>The evening my son was accepted to his dream school, he had a two hour review of calculus (not sure) and later that week another evening review of physics(?) at his high school. I thought really if it were me, I think I would just stay home and enjoy and celebrate. I asked him if he really HAD to go (I know bad Mom) and he said yes it counts as 100 on a test. I thought to myself, who cares at this point. He went to the reviews.</p>
<p>What amazing kids you all have. I especially enjoyed both A.S.A.P.'s and yayverily’s stories - congratulations on raising such terrific kids.</p>
<p>My younger son has gotten tired of waiting for me to make apple pie (I got apples for it over a week ago). He’s busy cutting up apples now, I can’t wait!</p>
<p>It’s so much fun to watch them grow up! My dear son surprised us with very thoughtful birthday presents this year and then surprised us again by his very mature career thoughts. He’s a first year at a SLAC–he has plenty of time, but why not try some jobs out now?! You go, guy!!</p>
<p>The other day S and I had a wonderful phone conversation, about all the things going on in his life, upcoming finals, summer employment, his next semester and classes, etc. When I hung up with him, I thought to myself what a nice young man he is. I realized that he has grown up so much this first year of college.</p>
<p>Okay, my kids have graduated from college and are somehow managing to support themselves, although occasionally they do things that make me wonder about them. BUT… my son astonished me when he needed to get his car repaired and managed to talk the repair shop into cutting a huge amount off the price–and then they told ME what a pleasure he was to deal with.</p>
<p>My daughter sold her car (she’s using the money to fund a post-graduate gap year) and bikes everywhere. She recently decided to come home from Portland for a few days–so she biked home. 230 miles. Took her three days.</p>
<p>My first year son turned down an opportunity to go all expenses paid to the consumer electronics show in Las Vegas (his part time job) because it would have meant missing, essentially, his first week back after Christmas break. He made the decision on his own. Thankfully, he chose the way he did; his second week of the semester he caught that horrible flu that laid him up for eight days. He’d have never recovered from all that time missed.</p>
<p>zebes</p>
<p>My family was in the process of relocating out-of-state. My daughter and I flew ahead to apartment hunt in our new community while another family member began transporting our belongings over the road. We arranged for a confirmed two-week stay at a centrally located, independently-owned, “graciously appointed” vintage hotel which had been glowingly described and highly recommended by several esteemed travel guidebooks. </p>
<p>My daughter and I arrived to discover that the once-gracious hotel had become a rundown dump. One side of the dump catered to homeless transients (who, I later learned, were mostly male convicts recently released or paroled from a nearby state prison); the other side of the dump catered to “regular” guests, primarily conventioneers. Because my family had requested an extended stay, my daughter and I were assigned to the dump’s transients’ side. Our room was adjacent to a room housing a group of loud, rowdy men and women we could easily overhear arguing, fist-fighting, and breaking liquor bottles and other objects, including what sounded to be hotel lamps and chairs. I was certain the hotel staff could overhear the rowdies’ noise as well, and I figured they’d respond and throw the rowdies out. They didn’t. </p>
<p>The following morning, my daughter and I carefully snuck out of our room (to avoid being seen by the rowdies) and went down to the front desk, where I reported what I had overheard the previous night. I then requested a room change. The hotel’s surly desk clerk and equally surly manager flatly refused my request. The manager also told me that the large two-week prepayment my family had made was nonrefundable. My daughter and I returned to our now-stiflingly hot second-floor room, which had no windows, but only a door leading to a small balcony separated from the rowdies’ balcony by a concrete wall. I cracked our door open to get some fresh air into our room, and promptly overheard one of the rowdies (who was standing on his balcony) hiss to his roommates, “Hey, there’re people staying next door. After they leave we can climb around the wall onto their balcony and break into their room." Our balcony door had only a cheap spring-locking doorknob. I had to take action.</p>
<p>I looked in the Yellow Pages and, with the aid of a map, discovered that a small mom-and-pop hardware store was within walking distance of the hotel. I wedged a chair against our locked balcony door, and my daughter and I quietly departed for the hardware store, where I prepared to buy multiple rubber doorstops, a heavy-duty chain-latch, and some tools (including a pricey hand-operated drill). I told the hardware store owner why I needed the items. He listened quietly and then asked my daughter to describe the situation; she solemnly and precisely confirmed what I had said. The hardware store owner told us to wait while he went into the back room. He returned with his own personal toolkit–including a manual drill–which he said I was welcome to borrow and return to him the following day. I offered to pay him a security deposit and to give him my ID, but he refused; he said he trusted me. He charged me only for the doorstops, the chain latch, two screwdrivers, and a hammer (for protection). My daughter and I returned to our hotel room where I installed the chain latch on our balcony door. She and I then promptly returned to the hardware store with the owner’s tools and a thank-you note from both of us.</p>
<p>In retrospect, I think the hardware store owner made some discreet phone calls on my daughter’s and my behalf, because that night at around 4:00 AM, several police officers–accompanied by hotel staff–showed up at the rowdies’ door, pounded on the door, and demanded entry. The police claimed to be looking for a parole violator they suspected was staying in the room. The police ID’d everyone in the room. Hotel staff promptly removed all unregistered overnight “guests,” and warned the registered residents that their residency would be terminated if any unregistered overnight “guests” were found in the room again. From that point on, the rowdies’ noise and activity level dropped to practically nothing, and whenever my daughter and I walked through the hotel lobby, the staff smiled fawningly at us. (They practically clicked their heels and bowed to us!) Regardless, my daughter and I continued to be quiet and cautious (we took turns listening through the wall to keep an ear on anything the rowdies might be up to), and we were relieved when our two-weeks-too-long stay at that horrible place came to an end. </p>
<p>Throughout that two-week ordeal, my daughter’s conduct was above and beyond exemplary. She understood the gravity of the situation. She cooperated with me by staying calm and quiet, and by following my every direction without once complaining, whining, or crying. She behaved like an adult. She was less than four and a half years old.</p>
<p>^^^ Can I adopt your daughter?? Better yet, if she isn’t dating, I have a few fine young men I’d like to introduce her to!</p>
<p>To jym626: On behalf of my daughter, thank you for the compliment. She’s a legal adult now (and doesn’t need adopting), and she says she doesn’t plan to be socially “available” for quite some time–at least not until she’s got her Ph.D. in hand! Thanks again!</p>
<p>Ph.D. is good! I’ve got 2 bright, eligible gentleman (one is probably close enough to her age to be in the running…)</p>
<p>When my son turned 16 and had his drivers license – and hence some limited freedom – we told him that we wanted him to do some volunteer work. Not for college app purposes, but just because it was the right thing to do and to keep him from lounging around doing nothing after school. We figured he’d go to the local humane society or senior center and ask to answer phones or something like that. He immediately headed down to the local volunteer fire company, went through several full weekends of training at the fire school and answered his first call within a week after getting his basic Firefighter I certification (much to DW’s horror to see her baby go charging out of the house TOWARD a fire rather than AWAY from it as any sane person would do). His Senior Year in HS his station named his firefighter of the year, one of their youngest to get the award. </p>
<p>Since then I have had no reason to doubt his maturity. He’s a freshman now and, while he can still do typical goofy teenage things, he’s pretty much already a perfectly responsible adult. He also makes his own money as an EMT during breaks and really, really hates relying on us for money. If he could somehow figure out how to make enough money to pay tuition without breaking the law, I have no doubt he would do it in a heartbeat. </p>
<p>So he’s earned the right to call his own shots and make his own mistakes, several years earlier than I was ever prepared for. It’s a little sad, really, but I am very, very proud of him.</p>