![]() ![]() Paying $28 to park at a Bed, Bath, and Beyond near his apartment, right near Boston University, and the thrill of trying to shop for two carts full of stuff with a young adult who did not want to be shopping with his mom, along with 10,000 other students and parents moving into B.U. And trying to get everything needed to set up his apartment to feel like “home” in a very small window of time was nerve-wracking. Seeing what was going to be his little, old Boston no-frills-but-great-location apartment was a bit shocking initially for both of us – a great apartment, but a place that beared no resemblance to the familiar, suburban comforts of home. ![]() That was only one of many memorable moments that I’m less than proud of. ![]() Funny in hindsight, but I can assure you, it wasn’t at the moment. I was startled with a tap on the window, and her “you can’t stop here” reprimand, and I lost it. This is what you get for looking like a tourist. I wasn’t sure how to get where where I wanted to go, and pulled over to the curb alongside the Public Garden to Google “Faneuil Hall parking”, and Rita Meter Maid was on me like white on rice. Ask the meter maid who consoled me after I burst out into tears (for the third time that day). I could use a refresher.ĭriving around Boston in a rental car, navigating one rotary after another, or stuck in gridlock traffic with emergency vehicles screaming at me from behind to get out of the way (where am I supposed to go?), relying on a GPS and trying to find parking were all stressful. This would probably be a good time for me to go back and reread, “The Blessing of a Skinned Knee” (by Wendy Mogel). We as parents want them to be independent, but are afraid to let go in fear that they will fall. Our kids reach an age where they feel a need to be independent, and want to be independent, but lack the life experience and resources to do it all on their own. I think universally, it’s a recipe for disaster. What I got was a teen on the fringe of adulthood, trying unsuccessfully to conceal his irritation with me for just trying to make everything perfect. As any typical parent would feel, what I wanted was an elaborate show of appreciation for all the time and effort spent to painstakingly handle every forethinkable detail. The experience was a challenging few days that gave me the opportunity to reflect on some parent/child dynamics when everyone is in a pressure cooker of a situation. Before you know it, it’ll be New Year’s Eve, and we’ll be wearing paper cone hats with tight elastic pinching the underside of our chins, holding a glass of cheap champagne, and wondering where the year just went.Ī few weeks ago, I took Harris up to Boston to move him in and get him situated at Emerson as a new student. It always seems to me that once Back to School is under my belt, it’s one quick downhill ride to the end of the year that gains momentum faster than a toboggan ride down a steep slope. There’s the anticipation of a string of holidays – lots of things to look forward to, with traditions, good food, and great times ahead with friends and family in the next few months. Honestly, this summer was a little too full of excitement for my liking.īut here comes autumn, coming up around the bend. I don’t know about you, but I feel like I’ve just stepped off my last go-around of riding Big Thunder Mountain, 10 times in a row. Over the past few months, I’ve been feeling so much angst, that this song - that has never particularly resonated with me - definitely seems like it’s delivering me a message. Have you ever listened to a song you’ve heard hundreds of times, and then one day, you hear it for the first time? In the past few weeks, I’ve literally heard The Beatles’ “Let it Be” every day. ![]()
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