Thursday, October 24, 2013

Hit Submit

Foreword:  In the crazy October days leading up to the college-bound student's early decision application deadline, there is little time to think about what lies ahead. That's what November is for.  Below is a re-post of our experience, and it's as true today as it was two years ago:  October is about the trip to the post office. November is about everything else.  

Our son, Sam, has applied early decision to Elon. “We” have not applied early decision to Elon, as I recently heard myself say before I took myself aside and advised myself to stop it. 

Sam has applied early decision to Elon. We haven’t.

But we’re hoping we get in.

The good thing about the abbreviated, early decision application timeline – a semi-frantic period that squeezes September and swallows October whole, and requires the ED applicant to gather transcripts, sit for the last SAT, line up letters of recommendation and craft the most significant experience of their seventeen years into (all hail) The Essay – is that there is little time to think about what comes next, which is November. 

That is not what October is for.
  
October is about getting ready for college while the month passes at double the speed of any other, until the only thing left to do is hit “submit” and heave a huge sigh of relief.  It is not about shorter grocery lists, or empty laundry hampers, or the day ten months from now, when you will hug your ED applicant goodbye, go to the airport, sit at the gate and try not to be one of those stranger-parents who wish to enlighten other stranger-parents by pointing to their child and saying,"Sure, now they're having tantrums and spilling juice on my suitcase, but blink and you'll be dropping them off at college."

No, October is about nagging and follow through, setting up tutors, waiting for scores, reading and editing the resume, and saying at least once a week, “If I have to bug you to (tedious task here), what will happen when I’m not there to bug you?” as if the ED Applicant will lose your contact information as soon as you hug him goodbye and go to the airport, where you will stand in line at Starbucks and be so astonished by how much the teenager ahead of you looks like your ED applicant, you'll want to give him money for lunch and ask him if he’s okay on gas. 

October gets you ready for college.

November gets you ready for the airport. 

November is for musing over the path that has led you here, where you have learned that, flawed as it turns out you each are, you are perfect in the roles you occupy for each other. 

November is for the moments when, on your own, in the breezy dark, you look into the sky and say to God, “If you keep him safe next year, I will never, ever drive in the left lane again.”  

November is for letting your eyes rest on your ED applicant’s face a little longer than necessary, maybe even to the point where he says, “What? What’s wrong? What are you doing? Is there something on my face?” while you smile and say, “Of course not, you’re wonderful,” and finish memorizing the moment. 

November is for making very sure that the next nine months are like the ones before you met your ED applicant- joyful and not stressful, full of trepidation and anticipation, both. November is for making sure that every conversation, even the candid, not-so-nice ones, are valued because they all reflect the honesty of your relationship.
  
“So, tonight, we hit submit,” I said to Sam over lunch at Uno’s recently.
He looked startled.
“It’s done,” I said.
“I should look at it one more time,” he said.
“You can if you want.”
“There might be something missing,” he said.
“There’s nothing missing,” I said.
There was a beat. A blink.
“You’re ready,” I said.
He nodded. “You’re right,” he said, “I am.”

There was a time last year when I felt, but tried not to show, impatience with parents who anticipated the absence of their college-bound children with melancholy. I almost said, but didn’t, how unfair it is to complicate a teenager’s already mixed feelings about separating with worry over how their parents are handling it.  

Something stopped me from being that snarky, maybe it was God (who has pulled me back to the curb more than once) but more likely, it had something to do with Octobers past, and Novembers future and what happens to us in airports. 

We’re ready. 

(Originally posted 10/24/2011)

7 comments:

Dorothy Westwater said...

I loved the way you said that Sam is applying, we're not, but you hope we get in. It's so true, as we have discussed, that you try to stand aside but it's tricky. This was another smile-out-loud post and I loved it.

CC said...

I smile and I cry! Sam was just a baby, wasn't he??? Have you read The Gift of an Ordinary Day? If not, run, don't walk to buy it and then curl up and devour it.

Beth Ann Chiles said...

I so remember those days of waiting waiting waiting for the acceptance for our boys to come!!! The oldest went to UNC and the youngest to NCSU so we were in the same neck of the woods!!! It is difficult to not be anxious when they really want to get into a certain school but in our case both did and both were perfect fits.! Good luck. Great post!

Susan Williams said...

We didn't go the early admissions route with my son, but we're very grateful he ended up getting into the college of his choice, anyway.
I was hearing on NPR just this week about the snafus that people are running into with the "new, improved" common application.
Apparently, it's been quite a nightmare.

Lori Lavender Luz said...

Oh, my. Your post makes me see that I don't have all that many Octobers left before my kids need to be as ready as Sam. Kudos to you and Sam for what is sure to be a successful launch.

Susan Bonifant said...

Well, Sam actually did launch a couple of years ago (this was a repost) and I am happy to report that almost right from the start, we FB messaged and talked by phone several times a week about all kinds of stuff(especially during pre-holiday times). In October 2011, I never would have believed it.

susan bonifant said...
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