Monday, August 28, 2017

From Diapers to Diplomas

Precocious Daughter began her senior year of high school today.

And yes, I do feel like Hans Moleman today.
I took a picture of her, so that Facebook can continue to taunt me with the memory well into my dotage. I dutifully "liked" all the pictures her friends' parents posted and wondered how all of these beautiful children grew up while none of of parents have aged a day. I made PDaughter a sack lunch and drew a "Class of 2018" doodle on it.

And then I dropped her off at school and made everybody at work listen to me expound about the wonders/horrors of having a senior for the rest of the day.

Now I'm home. But she's not. Today happens to be her dad's birthday. He picked her up after school, and she'll be home later this evening. I won't be the first one to hear how her day went. Which kind of stinks.

I realize that, because she lives with me, PDaughter's dad almost never gets to be the first to hear how her day went. I get it. But he also doesn't do her laundry, help clean her guinea pig's cage, or pay her many expenses. Possibly I'm being petty. Screw it - my little girl is not with me, and I'm kind of feeling sorry for myself.

Which brings up an important point.

PDaughter is applying to exactly one university in Texas. It is very likely that she'll end up moving to New York or Connecticut or Washington state in a year. And that will leave me on my own.

And that's terrifying.

For one thing, I don't exactly eat right when I'm by myself. And by "right," I mean "basically at all." I love cooking for PDaughter and grocery shopping for PDaughter and splurging at our favorite restaurants with PDaughter. But food doesn't interest me much when she's not involved. Tonight in her absence I ate dinner - leftovers from a meal she made for herself a couple of days ago. Without those in the fridge, I probably would have eaten a handful of peanuts and called it good.

As always, Target gets me.
Also, her various school/band/social events are about the only things that get me out of the house besides my job. I'm not a social creature. I've made so many good friends who are the parents of her classmates, but without that connection, I'd probably be a a freakish shut-in.

The Simpsons - an image for every situation.
I suck at being an adult, frankly. When I had parents, when I had a spouse, when I was raising a kid, I was golden. But I've never lived alone. I don't know how, you guys.

So what will I do?

Will I finally take the plunge into adulthood and become a fully-functioning, self-sustaining adult?

Will I immediately shack up with Drummer Boy, which might not be the best thing for either of us at this point in our lives?

Will I wither away and die like a piece of week-old romaine lettuce?

I have one short year to figure it out. I remember when a year used to feel like an eternity.

Now it's a blip on the radar of my life.

I'm not necessarily asking for advice, but if you have any, I'll listen.

Special shout-out to Bestest Friend, whose amazing daughter is beginning her first year of college. She went through all the crap I'm now going through last year. If she can survive it, I can. Best wishes to PDaughter's beautiful godcousin, and to her parents!

1 comment:

  1. What does a fully-functioning adult look like? I know a lot of them and they're all really different. But once again it's The Simpsons to the rescue.
    To me you are, and always will be, Ruth Powers.


You're thinking it, you may as well type it. The only comments you'll regret are the ones you don't leave. Also, replies to threads make puppies grow big and strong.