It's Getting Real

When talking about offspring, people often like to compare teenagers and toddlers. Toddlers, I've heard it said, are just really short teenagers.  The two developmental stages do have some similarities- both toddlers and teenagers can throw down some attitude.  Another similarity I've noticed is that, just like people offer advice (most of it unwanted) to new mothers, they also like to offer advice to parents whose kids are in the last two years of high school. 

The difference here is that, while when I was a new mother, the last thing I would have admitted to anyone except my own mother was that I had no idea what I was doing (my Mom Manual got lost in the mail, and I was working on no sleep and instinct), right now I'm definitely prepared to admit this: I have no clue. Fill me in. Tell me what the secrets are, because this process seems to be a lot more confusing than I remember it being way back in the olden days when I was the one in high school trying to get it figured out.

I've noticed that we are getting a lot more actual mail these days, and almost none of it is addressed to me. Most of it is from colleges, many that I've never heard of, with photos of happy glowing students, promises of stellar learning opportunities, and gorgeous campuses.  This collegiate propaganda is definitely lacking in the most important detail, from a Mom point of view: Just how much money do you want?

The college-related mail that is addressed to me consists of flyers informing me of all kinds of classes and workshops that, I'm promised, will give me the secrets to College Admissions Success, or Financial Aid Application Success, or Secrets to SAT Success For Your High School Student.  Apparently this process is difficult enough that I need to pay people to walk me through the many steps that will culminate in The Dad of No and I dropping off one new college freshman in front of a dorm on a campus somewhere and driving off, with the Son of Never Stops Eating sitting in the back seat of the car gleefully yelling "YAY, NO SISTER!". 

The other night I sat down in front of a computer to complete a calculator one college had provided on their website to give parents and prospective students an idea of what tuition might actually cost.  I had thought this would be a quick and simple process, but after hunting down paycheck stubs, the previous year's income tax forms, the mortgage paperwork for our house, and the Teenager's kindergarten report card, I was reduced to yelling "What exactly is it that you want from me?" while the other family members backed slowly out of the room and fled for their lives.

Actually, this whole process raises another question entirely.  Exactly how much of this college preparation and application process is my responsibility? How much Mom nagging is too much Mom nagging?  For example, how many times should I ask the Teenager if she knows the application deadline for the schools she's interested in, or should I just work under the assumption that this is her business and if she doesn't do anything about it and misses the deadline for her heart's desire schools, then she is just out of luck?

After all, as the Grandpa of No likes to remind me, there's always the Navy, or the local community college.

For quite awhile, this process has seemed theoretical.  For everything, there was still plenty of time. Now the Teenager is getting close to her senior year in high school, and that time known as "After Graduation" doesn't seem so theoretical anymore.  I recently looked at the school district's calendar for the 2017-2018 school year, and when I looked at the last day of school, I realized that will be her last day of high school.  So here it comes.  Bring it on.  Let the check writing (me) and the decision making (the Teenager) begin.