Minnesota Prairie Roots

Writing and photography by Audrey Kletscher Helbling

My thoughts written on day two as an empty nester August 20, 2012

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 6:57 AM
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“YOU SHOULD CARRY ME across the threshold,” I suggested as I waited on the back stoop for him to unlock the door.

He inserted the key into the lock, then turned and looked at me. “It’s like starting over, isn’t it?”

And so a new phase begins in our lives. At this precise moment I am not embracing it, this becoming an empty nester after 26 ½ years of children under our roof.

I am sad and tired and exhausted from lack of sleep and am a bit of an emotional mess. How did my husband and I, 30 years married, arrive, snap, just like that, at this point of coming full circle back to only the two of us?

The son, moving into his dorm room at North Dakota State University.

Saturday morning we delivered our 18-year-old and his van full of belongings to the second floor of Johnson Hall at North Dakota State University in Fargo. (Or, more accurately, the energetic NDSU move-in crew carried everything from the lawn, down the sidewalk, up the stairs and to our son’s corner room at the tunnel end of a hallway.)

Leaving Fargo late Saturday morning, 285 miles from our Faribault home.

As cliché as it sounds, this truly marked for me a bittersweet moment of mixed emotions—realizing I’d done my part to raise our boy and now I had to trust him to make it on his own in a town, at a school,  5 ½ hours away.

I don’t care how many children you’ve left at college—and I’ve already seen my daughters, 26 and 24, through four years of post-secondary education and entry into the workforce—it is not easy to leave your kids, these children you’ve nourished and loved and held and cherished for 18 years. Not easy at all.

I’ve even been known to say, “I should have locked you kids in the basement and not let you go anywhere.”

Of course, I don’t mean that. I wouldn’t want any of my children to feel afraid or insecure or unable to set out on their own because I selfishly desired to keep them close. I have raised them to be strong, independent, venturesome adults.

When my eldest announced during her first semester of college that she would be going on a mission trip to Paraguay during spring break, I may have used that “should have locked you in the basement” phrase in the same breath as asking, “Where the heck is Paraguay?”

Then when her sister, several years later, said that she would be studying abroad in Argentina for fall semester, I muttered, “…should have locked you in the basement.”

When the son decided to join his high school Spanish class on a spring break trip to Spain, I mumbled to myself “…locked you in the basement.”

Humor helps when you are parenting, in those times when you don’t want your child to realize just how difficult it is to let go. I doubt, though, that I’ve ever totally fooled my three.

I am proud of myself, though, for never leaving a college dorm room in tears. I can be strong when I need to be, when my child needs me to be.

But I cried twice in the weeks before the son’s college departure date and he assured me, “Mom, it’s OK to be sad.” He was right.

My sons’ empty bed, which caused me to break down upon my arrival home Sunday afternoon.

And then I cried on Sunday, upon our arrival home from that weekend journey to Fargo. I walked into my boy’s upstairs bedroom and saw the rumpled sheets, his matted white teddy bear…and reality struck me. He’s gone.

I walked downstairs, told my husband I’d had my sad moment. Then I broke down and cried, deep wrenching sobs, and Randy wrapped his arms around me and held me.

Perhaps tomorrow he will carry me across the threshold.

© Copyright 2012 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

We may have skipped class at NDSU, but… June 21, 2012

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 7:29 AM
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The main entrance to North Dakota State University in Fargo.

OLIVIA FROM THE NORTH DAKOTA STATE UNIVERSITY Conference, Orientation and Recruitment Team promised not to tattle on us, because, on our first day back at school, my husband and I skipped our afternoon classes.

We’re not setting a very good example for our 18-year-old son, who was also in class on the same day at NDSU. He didn’t skip.

But we were tired due to the noisy Fargo Holiday Inn guests who practically shouted their way past our room around 2 a.m. Friday. My husband struggled to stay awake during the first Friday afternoon orientation session. And I admit my eyelids were weighing heavy, too. We needed a break.

I mean no disrespect to NDSU as the university did an excellent job in programming at the orientation and registrations sessions my husband, son and I attended. But our youngest marks the third child we’ve sent off to college so we kind of know this basic college stuff already.

I wish I could spin some dramatic tale about the reasons for our truancy. But I cannot. It is what it was and Olivia promised not to report us.

Perhaps I can redeem our bad behavior by telling you that we pursued only educational opportunities during our time away from class.

A Bison t-shirt in the NDSU Bookstore.

We started by stopping at the college bookstore to inquire about textbooks and to look at the Bison apparel. The bison is the university’s mascot.

Inside the NDSU Memorial Union, I photographed this sculpture of a bison, the university’s mascot.

The NDSU Technology Incubator.

Next we weaved our way over to the NDSU Research & Technology Park, where, according to a pamphlet I picked up, “…university researchers combine their talents with private industry to create new technologies, methods and systems.” Our son was awarded an NDSU Entrepreneurial Scholarship which requires him to work and volunteer in the Technology Incubator during his four years at NDSU. We’re thrilled that he will have the opportunity to gain hands-on research experience and network with private industry as he prepares for a career in computer engineering.

We weren’t able to meet with any of the incubator clients, but at least we got inside the building and learned basics about the facility.

The Plains Art Museum in downtown Fargo.

From the technology park, we headed to the Plains Art Museum, an art center housed in a lovely, historic brick building along First Avenue North in downtown Fargo. Inside, we perused an outstanding/phenomenal/incredible collection of wood carvings by Willmar, Minnesota, artist Fred Cogelow. We also enjoyed the works of Luis Jimenez, whose notable “Sodbuster” sculpture is temporarily on exhibit. The works of Fargo abstract expressionist artist Marjorie Schlossman were also on display. Since neither my husband or I especially like abstract art, we breezed through those galleries.

The North Dakota Mural by James Rosenquist installed in 2010 inside the Plains Art Museum.

I, of course, was quite disappointed that I couldn’t photograph any of the art except the North Dakota Mural on the first floor. It kills me to pack away my camera when I see so much I want to share with you.

The Plains Art Museum building was built in 1904 by International Harvester Company and originally served as a shipping, receiving and showroom space for farm implements. It’s a beautiful place with wooden floors, exposed support posts, rough brick walls and more.

An informational display outside the research rooms of the NDSU “Germans from Russia” Heritage Collection.

After a short walk around the block and a stop at a gas station, we headed back to the NDSU campus and hung out at the library. Or, more specifically, my husband holed himself up in the “Germans from Russia” Heritage Collection rooms while I sat on a retaining wall outside because our cell phones did not work in the library and we were awaiting a call or text message from the son as to when he would finish registering for classes. (NDSU, please add some benches to your campus; the parents would appreciate resting spots.)

Eventually the husband extracted himself from digging into the history of the Helbling family whose roots run deep in North Dakota. His forefathers were among the “Germans from Russia” who settled in the Mandan/Bismarck area, home to the largest group of such immigrants in the U.S. My spouse’s parents relocated from North Dakota to central Minnesota in the 1960s.

Now, some 50 years later, our son is coming full circle back to North Dakota, to the place where his paternal ancestors settled upon arriving in America so many, many years ago.

So, you see, my husband and I may have skipped our afternoon college classes. But we never stopped learning.

© Copyright 2012 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

A mother’s thoughts on prepping for a third child’s grad party May 16, 2012

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 6:37 AM
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BY THIS TIME six years ago, and two years prior to that, I would have had everything planned. Right down to the last food and decorating detail.

But now, the third time around, I am less stressed about the high school graduation reception which my husband and I will host for our youngest in a few weeks.

I suppose you might say the third time’s a charm. Or you might say that by child number three, I’m more relaxed. That would be true. It’s not worth worrying about weather or if I’ll have enough food or all those other details that can stress a graduate’s mom. Everything will fall into place or what will be will be.

That said, recently I finally forced the graduating son to help me design and print invitations. We’re keeping it simple—black and white photo paired with a slip of paper upon which the party information has been printed.

The soon-to-be graduate also assisted me in setting up a system to print computer generated addresses upon labels. I know those labels fail to meet Miss Manners guidelines. But I am lazy with this third graduate and prefer easy and convenient over hours of hand-addressing envelopes.

I was spoiled with the previous two graduates, both daughters. They pitched in, designed their own photo display boards and were otherwise helpful in the party planning. My boy has no interest in any of this.

A photo display board of my boy through the years. The images kept falling off, until I attached them with photo corners.

So I was left to peruse photo albums, to choose photos of my son and then organize them onto a tri-fold display board.

I’ve e-mailed extended family and asked for kitchen help and pans of bars for the party. They’ve obliged. We help each other like that.

Nine hams, bought on sale before Easter, are stashed in the freezer as are three batches of cookies.

I did a trial test of the cheesy potatoes I planned to serve and have subsequently replaced that menu item with easier-to-prepare and less-costly baked beans.

My florist sister has potted flowers that will serve as centerpieces upon tables draped with vintage tablecloths. It is better if I don’t think about the pre-party ironing.

My husband replaces crumbled stones on a backyard limestone pathway.

The husband has redone a portion of the partially crumbling backyard limestone pathway. We can’t have guests tripping on rock. He just began cleaning the garage, which will center the reception along with several tents. We have a working man’s garage packed with two work benches, a tool box and equipment everywhere. Nothing pristine and bare or neat and orderly about our exposed-studs garage.

We’re not planning to paint rooms, shampoo carpet or otherwise upgrade our house. Except to use the bathroom, guests are supposed to stay outside.

But when they do venture indoors to use the facilities, I hope they won’t notice the section of cardboard-covered wall in the dining room where a brick chimney was removed 2 ½ years ago. Maybe they will appreciate that the bathroom faucet does not leak; the husband recently replaced it.

I hope the kitchen crew doesn’t twist off the leaky and worn kitchen faucet or wonder too much why I haven’t yet replaced the vintage brown kitchen sink or yellowing cupboards or the Formica countertops or the aged vinyl flooring. Perhaps several strategically-placed bottles of wine will keep them from focusing on the flaws…

© Copyright 2012 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Another chapter finished in the book of parenting March 2, 2012

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 9:27 AM
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AFTER 22 YEARS of going to parent-teacher conferences, my husband and I attended our final one last night. The youngest of our three children, who is eight years younger than our eldest, graduates from high school in three months.

And to think we almost missed this notable occasion because I had not flipped the calendar from February to March yet. An ad in Thursday’s local daily newspaper alerted me of that evening’s sessions at Faribault High School.

En route to school, I mentally planned the extra words I would scrawl onto my name tag: “After 22 years, this is our final conference!”

But alas, the school did not provide name tags for parents on this occasion. What a disappointment.  Instead, I had to inform all four of our son’s teachers that they had the privilege of concluding our 22-year parent-teacher conference tenure.

It’s been a good ride. All three of our children have worked hard in school, done their best and been respectful. Teachers have always spoken highly of them.

So then you likely wonder why we have even bothered to attend conferences.

Simply put, we care. We are interested in the individuals who educate our children. We want to connect with them. We want them to know that we care.

We’ve gained insights into our children and learned about what they’re learning, because children/teens don’t always inform parents.

Parent-teacher conferences are a two-way process. We’ve always approached these meetings with the idea that we are there to glean information as much as to share it.

And now we’re done. Twenty-two years later. I’m not all misty-eyed and sad as one teacher suggested. But I’m not jumping for joy either.

I’m simply wondering how we got from crayons to calculus in the seeming blink of an eye.

IF YOU’RE A PARENT, have you attended parent-teacher conferences? What value do you find in them? How would you improve conferences if you think improvement is needed? Please share your thoughts and stories in a comment.

Likewise, if you’re a teacher, feel free to share your thoughts and insights.

© Copyright 2012 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Happy birthday to my adventurous, big-city daughter February 10, 2012

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 8:28 AM
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Amber in 1986, sometime during her first year of life. The photo is not dated. A friend told me she looked just like the baby on the Gerber baby food jars.

TWENTY-SIX YEARS AGO today, I joined the sisterhood of mothers at the birth of my daughter.

Now, dear readers, if you’ve read my post from yesterday, you will recall that my son celebrated his 18th birthday just yesterday.

What are the chances of giving birth to two children one day shy of eight years apart? I have no idea. (My other daughter was born in November.)

But back to the daughter who today turns 26, which is now more than half way to 50. I had to toss that mathematical notation in there because, well, through the years I’ve received my share of handcrafted cards from her emphasizing my age.

There, I’ve gotten that out.

On to Amber… How does a mother describe a daughter, explain the depth of love she has for her, reveal the essence of a bond that really cannot be confined to words?

I can’t.

But I’ll share a few observations about the daughter I’ve nurtured and loved and cherish as only a mother can cherish.

She’s a strong, independent woman living and working in the big city. And she loves it. Sometimes I’m still surprised that any offspring of mine would love city life given their rural genetics. Can genes include a predisposition to rural or city? Probably not.

Life for Amber is an adventure, whether organizing a gathering with friends or planning a trip across the country or abroad. I won’t even mention here the trip she is pondering now for fear that writing the words will stamp the journey into reality.

I expect those close to me sometimes wonder, given Amber’s inclination to travel, whether she could possibly be my daughter. Here’s the explanation as to her wanderlust: I purposely raised Amber with a desire to travel, allowing her to go on mission trips and Christian youth gatherings while in high school.  Was it easy for me? No. But sometimes oftentimes a mother sets aside her worries to do what is best for her child.

Amber loves the Minnesota Twins. And I love how, each June, she takes her dad to a Twins game as his Father’s Day gift. They’ve invited me along. I’m not interested in baseball. And even if I was, I wouldn’t join them. This time is best left for father and daughter to savor without my intrusion.

Even at three months, Amber possessed a sense of fashion, wouldn't you say?

Since moving to the city upon her college graduation 3 ½ years ago, Amber’s developed a sense of fashion that suits urban life. She wears hip, but not over the top, attire that exudes confidence and style. Yet, she manages this by thrifting, using coupons and shopping sales. It pleases me that my daughter values the lesson she learned from youth that it’s OK to wear recycled clothing.

This post would not be complete without telling you that Amber is, simply put, a truly nice person. She’s kind and loyal and loving and generous and friendly—to the point where she recently was scolded for being “too friendly.” But we shall not get into that here.

She’s a woman with a deep faith in God. And that, more than anything, is what I desire for any child of mine.

Today I celebrate the blessing of Amber, my first-born, the daughter who always made her dad and me laugh by calling soda crackers “Minnesota” crackers. She says the moniker came from biting into a cracker that then looked like the shape of our state. I say she was confused by the soda/sota.

It doesn’t matter. She still makes us laugh.

Happy birthday, Amber!

I love you.

Mom

I wasn't sure Amber would like this Twins bag I picked up for her as a Christmas gift. But she loved it. The past two years she's worn that ugly Christmas sweatshirt and an equally ugly holiday sweater at holiday gatherings. So please do not consider this her fashion style.

Copyright 2012 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

From LEGOs to college-bound, my son turns 18 February 9, 2012

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 8:35 AM
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Notice the size of Caleb's hand when he was only 1 1/2 days old.

MY SON, my youngest, turns 18 today, a bittersweet day for this mom soon facing an empty nest after 26 years.

Caleb’s officially an adult now. But that doesn’t mean his dad and I will allow him to drive alone to Canada to check out the University of Manitoba in Winnipeg because we don’t have passports and he does. This would be his plan, not ours.

Yes, he’s strong-willed and smart, traits that will take him far in life. Yet those same qualities can frustrate the heck out of his parents who happen to know just a wee bit more than him, even if he doesn’t think that could be remotely possible.

I don’t want to focus on the struggles sometimes oftentimes waged between parents and teens. Rather, I want to celebrate my son. This will sound all trite and mushy and everything. But I value every day I have my boy in my life, even those days that challenge my parenting skills and patience.

You see, in 2006 Caleb was struck by a hit-and-run driver while crossing the street to his school bus stop. The panic that seared my soul on that morning is unlike any I’ve experienced. To those of you who have lost children, my very heart and soul ache for you. I cannot imagine a greater loss. (Caleb, by the way, suffered only minor injuries in the incident.)

With that background, you will understand why I tend to turn introspective on my son’s birthday.

This year I decided to pull out a three-ring binder filled with Christmas letters I’ve written through the years. These represent my family’s history, including interesting tidbits about my three children. Not to worry; I won’t give you a play-by-play of Caleb’s first 18 years of life. But I will pull out a few choice stories for your amusement.

Let’s start with his birth 18 years ago. Caleb arrived weighing 10 lbs, 12 oz., and stretching 23 ½ inches long. Yes, he was born via C-section. No, the hospital did not have diapers large enough to fit him. And, yes, I had to return a pack of under-sized diapers that a friend gave me prior to the big boy’s birth.

By age four, my son was taking things apart to see how they work—or asking me or his dad to do so—and was interested in all things space. Those interests continue. Saturday he placed first in the gravity vehicle race and third in the astronomy competition at the regional Science Olympiads. Sunday he dismantled my non-functioning computer monitor which now lies in a heap on the living room floor.

One of my all-time favorite photos of my son at age 5.

During his fifth year of life, Caleb blind-sided me and broke my heart by proclaiming that he loved his kindergarten teacher more than me. But the affair proved short-lived after Mrs. K caught him stuffing green beans into his milk carton at lunchtime.

About this same time, my boy discovered the joys of reading on his own and building with LEGOs. This may seem rather mundane to mention. But I am convinced that his strong interest in books and in LEGOs contributed to his academic success through the years.

By third grade, Caleb was reading books like The Benefits of Bacteria (hey, I’m not making this up) and had chosen his life’s profession as a rollercoaster designer. Today he’s planning a career in computer engineering. See how that works? If you’re the parent of a young child, you can foresee your child’s future in his/her current interests.

In 2005, my husband and I gave Caleb a bow and arrows and made him promise never to aim toward the neighbor’s house.

A year later, deep into computers, he began checking out thick manuals on Java Script and Html from the public library. He was only 12.

During these pre-teen years, Caleb became an accomplished unicyclist who managed to wipe out—enough to prompt a 911 call from a bystander—while riding a two-wheeled bicycle on a public bike trail. Go figure. We took seriously his mantra of “Caleb likes to live life on the edge.”

The following summer he broke his little finger while unicycling. No, he didn’t tumble from the unicycle, but rather jammed his hand into a parked car while riding on our driveway.

Caleb in a senior class picture I shot last fall.

And so, eventually we reach today, 18 years after his birth, to the man Caleb has become. At well over six feet, he towers over the rest of us and delights in reminding his sisters of his height and their shortness.

He’s smart and funny and loving (although I don’t get nearly as many hugs as I once did) and makes me proud. I can’t wait to see what the next 18 years bring for my precious boy, my son.

© Copyright 2012 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

When a mother passes her dislike of shopping on to her son January 13, 2012

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 8:44 AM
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I AM THE RARE WOMAN who dislikes shopping. And I suppose, because of that, I am partly to blame for my teenage son’s lack of interest in shopping for clothes.

But it had gotten to the point where, day after day, he was wearing the same nondescript gray sweatshirt—the new one I gave him for Christmas—over a plain-colored t-shirt.

Finally, one day last week, I advised him that I needed to wash the sweatshirt and that he would have to choose another clothing option. The look he shot me at 7:37 didn’t exactly start my day with a “Good morning, Mom, I’m happy to see you” greeting.

I should mention here that my 17-year-old is not a morning person. Not at all. I have found it in my best interests to limit conversation with him any time prior to 10 a.m.

After this recent morning wardrobe exchange, I decided my teen simply needed to acquire additional clothing. After all, what must his classmates and teachers think with him wearing the same sweatshirt every day? Therefore, we needed to make the dreaded, long-avoided shopping trip.

Shopping success: A $60 hoodie purchased for $21.

So last Sunday afternoon we went clothes shopping. After about 1 ½ hours, which is an hour beyond my browsing limit, he had a new sweatshirt, three complimentary t-shirts and three flannel shirts. Success at only $58 sale prices.

Much to my surprise, my son handled the excursion without complaint, which might just be a first for him. I’ll be honest here and tell you that I understand my high school senior’s shopping frustration. He is tall, well over six foot—I’ve lost count of how many inches—and slender. He needs tall sizes for arm and body and leg length, but not for body girth. That presents a challenge whether he’s searching for shirts or for pants. Nothing fits him right.

It’s the same problem I had as a tall and slender teen. The “tall” part is still an issue for me. Honestly, every woman in this world is not average or petite in height and I am constantly frustrated by the limited choices for 5-foot, 8 ½-inch women like me who do not wear plus sizes.

So if you see me repeatedly wearing the same attire, my reasons are three-fold: I detest shopping, can’t find clothes that fit right and refuse to pay a pretty penny (aka full retail) for clothing.

Yup, I suppose I truly am to blame for my son’s avoidance of shopping and limited wardrobe.

IF YOU’RE THE MOTHER of a teenage boy or have raised one, what has been your experience with clothes shopping? I’ve tried the route of buying clothes for my son, but that rarely works. Either they don’t fit or he doesn’t like them or both. Help.

© Copyright 2012 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Would you buy a Vanuck or…? September 15, 2011

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 7:36 AM
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TYPICALLY, MY HUSBAND and I don’t meddle in our two adult daughters’ lives. We don’t intrude or hover like helicopter parents. Advice is given only when sought. We’ve learned it works best that way.

But when it comes to cars, well, that’s entirely different. I can’t even count how often the phone has rung with one daughter or the other on the line saying:

  • “My car is making a funny noise.”
  • “My car won’t start.”
  • “I have a flat tire.”
  • “I need my oil changed.”

And so their dad, an automotive machinist, steps in to help whenever he can, in person or with advice over the phone. He has the knowledge and the skills to problem-solve nearly any mechanical issue.

Yet, though, because of distance—our second daughter now lives in eastern Wisconsin—or circumstances (like a broken down car parked at a St. Paul gas station), he can’t always assist. He’ll offer his suggestions and the daughters have to take it from there.

Recently our 25-year-old daughter, the one who lives in Minneapolis, decided she wants to purchase a different car to replace her 1995 Geo Prizm. She’s driven her Geo since high school and it’s starting to show its age.

While she’s been researching cars online, we did a little car shopping of our own for her when we were back in my hometown of Vesta recently. We found three possible vehicle replacements. Here they are in no particular order, with as much information as was available about each.

CHOICE A:

Chevy Cobalt

A 2002 – 2006 (the automotive machinist was uncertain) Chevy Cobalt. Clean interior.

CHOICE B:

2008 Ford Focus

A 2008 Ford Focus one-owner, never-smoked-in (yeah, important point), with new tires (plus), clean interior (bonus), 34 – 40 mpg (yahoo), and only 57,000 miles (nice number). However, the car was priced at $12,000, about double our daughter’s budgeted amount.

CHOICE C:

The "Vanuck," which did not have a "for sale" sign posted on it, but sat in the Dave's Auto Used Cars lot.

A truly one-of-a-kind Ford vehicle that cannot be defined, so let’s call it a Vanuck. Front features a roomy 11 – 12-passenger van (great for transporting our daughter’s many friends). Back features a spacious storage area for bikes, tents, groceries, whatever (bonus). Appears well-constructed with a strong weld and new under-body framework (good safety features). However, back door of van section cannot be opened (negative for passenger safety in event of an emergency). Mileage uncertain, but probably low (two thumbs down). Not likely to be stolen (two thumbs up). Size may make it difficult to maneuver (ahem, back up) or navigate through metro traffic.

SO, WHICH OF THE ABOVE should we recommend to our daughter? Or should she/we keep shopping? Submit a comment. I’d like your helpful input.

© Copyright 2011 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

No first day of school tears here September 6, 2011

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 8:35 AM
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My oldest daughter and my son in a photo taken in May.

MY YOUNGEST STARTED his first day of his final year of high school this morning.

I feel as if I should be crying or something. But I’m not.

By now, by the third child, after 20 years of first days of school, it’s not such a big deal any more. The excitement and the anticipation just aren’t there.

It’s not that I’m a negligent mom who doesn’t care about her child or her child’s education. Rather, the first day of school novelty wore off long ago.

Last night in our house, there was no last-minute packing of the backpack, no pre-school-day jitters. Rather my concern leaned more toward making sure the 17-year-old got to sleep at a reasonable hour.

He is a night owl. If my teen had his way, classes would start around 11 a.m. So today, really, begins the battle of trying to get him to get enough sleep. This issue causes much strife in our household. Next year, at college, he’s on his own.

My focus right now is directed in guiding my son toward selecting a college. He has the smarts—an ACT test score of 32 and nearly a 4.0 GPA—to get in anywhere. But he certainly doesn’t have the money. However, I’ve encouraged him to apply wherever he wishes because maybe, just maybe, he’ll get a financial aid package that will allow him to afford a school he couldn’t otherwise afford.

I’ve suggested he make two college lists: a dream list and a realistic list.

In the meantime, during the first semester of his senior year of high school, my boy is enrolled in a rigorous course of study: Introduction to Economics, Advanced Placement Calculus, Advanced Chemistry and CIS Anatomy/Physiology. He’s also taking speech and logic at the local community technical college. By graduation in June, my son should have more than a semester of college credits earned.

I’ve encouraged him to pursue these college credits. They’re free, I keep telling him. Why wouldn’t you? He understands.

And so these are my thoughts this morning as my last child, who is eight years younger than his oldest sister and six years younger than his other sister, begins his senior year of high school.

No tears shed in this household. But next year at this time, when my husband and I are dropping our youngest off at his dorm, or seeing him off at the airport—if he manages to get into a college on his dream list—I expect the tears will fall fast and steady.

IF YOU’RE A PARENT with school-age children, how did the first day of school go for you? Share your thoughts and/or experiences in a comment.

© Copyright 2011 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Transitioning through parenthood and letting go June 3, 2011

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 7:14 AM
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In December we helped move my second daughter into an apartment as she started her first post-college job.

ONCE UPON A TIME, like 15 to 20, maybe even seven, years ago, I dreaded my kids graduating from high school, leaving for college and then eventually landing jobs. It would mean they no longer needed me and I could barely stand the thought of their absence.

But since then, since the two oldest followed the path of degrees, jobs and their own apartments, I’ve changed my attitude.

I rather like the lessening of parental responsibility that comes with their independence. It’s freeing. Not that I don’t worry about them; I still do. But it’s different now when they can basically fend for themselves.

My second oldest daughter graduated from the University of Wisconsin, La Crosse, last spring.

With that frame of mind, I recently visited my second oldest daughter in eastern Wisconsin, where she started work in December as a Spanish medical interpreter. Her first post-college job. Her first apartment of her own. She’d officially grown up.

I would have preferred that she settle closer to her hometown of Faribault instead of 300 miles away. But I’ve reminded myself many times that at least she’s in the U.S., within easy driving distance, and not in Argentina.

Nothing against Argentina. My daughter studied abroad in Buenos Aires and later returned for an internship. But I didn’t want her settling there, 6,000 miles away. I feared she might. Live there. Permanently.

That said, I have only myself to blame for the wanderlust spirits my 23-year-old and 25-year-old daughters possess. Because I grew up on a southwestern Minnesota dairy and crop farm, I seldom traveled as a child—once to Duluth and once to The Black Hills. I wanted my children to travel. I didn’t want them to be like me—someone who prefers, as my dad would have said, “to see the smoke from the chimney.”

And so I let them go, first as young children, to bible camp. Then, in high school, my eldest took her first out-of-state spring break mission trip to Texas. More mission and church and school trips followed as step by step by step they stretched their travel wings.

Then, during my eldest daughter’s freshman year of college, she signed up for a mission trip that took her to Paraguay. Heck, I had to dig out the globe to locate that country which borders Argentina, Brazil and Bolivia. I panicked, regretting for more than a few days my decision to raise children who enjoyed traveling.

Later, when my daughter journeyed to Costa Rica for a brief study sojourn, I barely gave her trip a second thought.

I could handle those short trips.

But then one summer the eldest worked in West Virginia and she was definitely gone for more than 10 days.

That, thankfully, prepared me for her sister’s decision to study abroad and do mission work in Argentina for six months and then return a second time for an internship.

Through the years, I’ve watched that desire to travel, to see the world, become an integral part of my daughters’ lives. The oldest one, who lives and works in the metro, is always plotting her next adventure.

The daughter who lives in Wisconsin will need to chisel away at her college loans and save some money before she can travel again. Right now she earns barely enough to pay the bills. But the time will come when she can resume traveling.

My oldest daughter and my son.

ALL OF THIS BRINGS ME back full circle to the first paragraph in this post, the one about lamenting my children growing up and leaving home. In a year my 17-year-old graduates from high school. He doesn’t know yet where he’ll attend college—whether close or far away. Life could take him anywhere.

Like his sisters, I won’t hold him back, won’t stop him from pursuing his dreams, from traveling to far away places. I’ve already let him go—to Spain on a Spanish class trip. That wasn’t easy, not easy at all, to allow my boy to journey so far at the age of 16.

But his sisters have blazed the way, have shown me that I can handle this part of parenting and handle it with grace. I’ve raised them all to be strong, independent and fearless individuals.

I’m beginning to enjoy this stage of life, with fewer parental responsibilities and new types of relationships forming with my adult children. I’m confident I’ve done my best as a parent, although best certainly isn’t perfect.

Now it’s time, almost, to move on, to continue supporting and encouraging my 17-year-old son as he transitions into adulthood and to always support my daughters, holding all three of them forever close, yet letting them go.

© Copyright 2011 Audrey Kletscher Helbling