Trena Eiden

We’re into crying season, the time when kids go to college and moms are weeping their way through goodbyes. It’s no fun, but there’s no other way. I’ve yet to meet a college student who was sad that mom wasn’t sleeping under the dorm bed.  

I recently told our kids that if they didn’t live so far away, we could get together for meals every Sunday. One piped up with, “It’s your fault, you raised us to be independent and spread our wings.” I shook my head and morosely replied, “I am a dunce.”  

I feel one of the most important items in our possession is binoculars. People often mistake me for an adult because of my age, but I’m generally fairly juvenile. When I see someone outside arguing, I don’t think twice about hiding behind the curtain with my Bausch & Lomb’s. I want every detail and have had to bite my tongue to keep from opening a window and yelling at them to speak up. Honestly, aging isn’t great. I used to have ears on me like an Indian scout, but now I’m forced to rely on binoculars to help me read lips. It’s obvious what I really need is a CIA listening device. Do they sell them at Amazon? My point is, if you want your college kid to have a premier university experience, send them with binoculars.  

College kids need to know that everyone has their own insights, beliefs and ideas. Take for instance when someone says, “He’s a good guy once you get to know him.” That usually means “He’s a garage hole, but you’ll get used to it.” He could be a good guy, but probably not. 

Of all the kids who start college, only 41% graduate. This is a sobering number considering the cost of tuition, room and board, books, lab fees and plane trips home for holidays. Our offspring never considered quitting because they knew I really, truly would have shown up to live under their bed, or in it. We’d discussed this early on. OK, I discussed this. They put their toe in the dirt and looked pained. I told them they had to do something they would love doing for the long haul and they should make good money so I didn’t have to live with them in my old age. They took it to heart. We have a petroleum engineer with a masters, a physician with two specialties, a chemical engineer with two majors and a NICU transport/supervisory nurse. They had to have college degrees so in the fall of their 18th year, they willingly blew out of our house like their pants were on fire. They weren’t spending another minute with the woman who often announced, “Hey troops, we’re picking up rocks this weekend.”  

I often told our kids to be uplifters and when they saw someone in distress, to run toward them. Truett Cathy said, “You know how to tell when somebody needs encouragement? If they’re breathing.” Our kids put themselves through college and bought their own cars. I said, “If you own a car, you’re in the top 5% of the people in the world.” Also, “Eleven billion people will never take a hot shower so be grateful.” They wanted to say they were grateful not to be lectured to for a whole school year.  

Someone once asked if I taught my kids at home. I said, “If I’d homeschooled my kids, they’d have learned what I know, so not much, and definitely no math.” I did teach them to never take no for an answer and to go down with the ship if need be. I also joked, “If someone wants to fight, run away, so you can live to run away another day.” They listened and I’m pretty sure, thought, “She’s not right, and after 18 years of her, I’d know a thing or two about not being right.”  

Last fall I worked with my pool boy on the yard for the last time of the season. We tidied up, weed-eated, blew leaves, raked, mulched and mowed, then got on the roof to clean gutters. Nearing the end of the eves, I thought, gosh, doing this hurts my back and my hip and really bothers my hemorrhoids. I didn’t mention anything out loud because I’m pretty sure my 14-year-old helper isn’t plagued by these afflictions and I doubt, on threat of death, could tell you what a hemorrhoid is. Oh, to be new and unblemished. God bless kids.