The nest has emptied...for real this time

People say the teen years are designed to cause so much friction between children and parents that all parties are thrilled when the kid skips out to college or a new place where they can stay up all night, never make the bed and roll around in their filth at will.

While Alison is no stranger to rolling around in her own filth - one of the things she most celebrates is not having to make her bed every day as decreed by the Captain and I don't want to know how infrequently she washes her sheets when she lives away from here - we never really had crazy friction. Which is great until it comes time to really separate.

Those first days of day care, Kindergarten, summer camp, college are just prep work for the day when your kid moves out for a real job that means no more summer vacation. And its worse when that move-out is states away.

But it's the right step. A necessary step. Did we cry. Sure, we cried. Some of more than others. But we also laughed and hugged and talked about how great it is that she's getting this opportunity. I said "real job." It's a job in that she will be teaching as part of her  graduate program at the University of Central Florida. So she's technically still a student, but she has bid adieu to summer vacation. And that, in my book, makes this goodbye different than the others.

We survived the journey to an fro, most of which you can see here if you so choose. It involved two vehicles, one borrowed from our friends, Eric and Tracy, what seemed like 96 hours at IKEA and multiple trips to furniture, hardware and grocery stores. 

Before we could get started, though, Ali spent a bit of time struggling to open the door to her new apartment. Jeff, lurking over her shoulder started to take over when I remarked, "Um, are you sure that's the right door?" We were a unit over from where we needed to be. The key worked perfectly when we got to the right number.

While we were in Orlando, the only down time we got was spent eating or sleeping. It reminded me of why I never want to move myself again. 

Well, Ali and I slept. Our first purchases were a Queen-sized bed and mattress for her. We'd planned to stay in a hotel while we furnished the apartment but we ended up just staying there. Which meant the Captain got the yogi-bo, a bean-bag like bit of almost furniture that's about a foot shorter than he is. 

He could have slept on the carpet, or we could have bought an air mattress. Instead, he grunted and shifted about and tried all sort of tricks to make it comfortable, failing each night. Ali and I both offered to spare him, but it was part of his Dad-ness. 

He apartment is definitely stamped with her love of anime, but she's kept one corner that makes me smile/cry every time I think of her having a meal. In the midst of her ever growing "One Piece" collection of figures, posters and paintings, her dining corner includes a print of Renoir's  "Boating Party." 

She grew up with that print in our dining room on Castle Row. We replaced it last year with a piece from the Talbot Street Art Fair and when we were determining what would go south, she agreed to consider taking it. She was surprisingly sentimental about it once it was up, and I love that she's got that tiny bit of home.

Since we've been home, we've ditched her twin bed and dragged up my desk from the downstairs bedroom. Her childhood bedroom is now my office. Much like her move, the evolution was bittersweet. The desk was a beast to get up the stairs and my back has yet to forgive me. But it's also tangible proof that her next visit home will be different from those in the past. 

I have been trying for years to get her to move downstairs where the bedroom is at least three times the size of her little room. But she refused, blaming basement spiders. As we were buying furniture and contemplating what would go where in her new apartment, I cautioned her against getting too much stuff and cramming every corner. I offered my organizational skills.

"Mom. I'm not used to having space," she said. "I know how to organize." And so she does. Sigh.

I will confess that I like the more office-y office space. Over the years I've worked at home, I've had a corner of the downstairs bedroom, but often rotated between the dining room and the back porch. I have a front yard view now, which even with the ugly and still sinking mound is distracting. 

There are a surprising number of people who walk/run/bike/stroller on my street and a ton of bunnies, squirrels and birds. Lois' Tiger Lilly seems to have given up hunting for chipmunks but she'll saunter by every so often.

The office is coming together. I'm keeping her paint and curtains (I'm lazy about more than moving.) After being used to it being such a small, crammed bedroom, I'm finding it almost too much space for an office. I'm sure I'll get used to it.

Jeff came home with gorgeous flowers last weekend, and they've taken up a bit of space. Even though we've been used to her being at Purdue, it's definitely a different vibe around here now. I'm still a little weepy from time to time.

We phone. We text. But she's moving on as she should. She's successfully passed three of the four entry tests necessary for her program. She get the other one at the end of the first semester. She's gone through TA training and will have her first class of general chemistry students soon. It's going to be an important trial. 

Like me, Ali is great with people who are invested in the project, focused and want to get the job done. Less so with those who aren't. I'll be interested in how she deals with kids who have to pass chemistry but may not be motivated. Her trainer advised the new TAs that if a student fails, they should ask them how they feel about said failure.

"How they feel? I'm supposed to ask them how they feel?!" she screeched as she recounted the experience. 

Here's hoping she simmers down a bit.