Out of Breath Already

You wouldn't know it to look at me, but I once ran, and even completed, a marathon. And while this occurred several years back, I still remember some of the hard and fast rules for getting through the grueling 26.2 miles: Be prepared mentally as well as physically; get rest; and above all, pace yourself. So why is it that we're not even halfway through the road-to-college marathon and I find myself frantically casting about for the nearest aid station?

Honestly, does this really need to be so hard?

The short answer, my husband would be quick to volunteer, is "No." The whole college app process needn't be this hard and in fact, from his point of view, isn't hard at all. Remember that he is the calm one in the family. He is the counterbalance to me, the not so calm one.

The two of us go for a walk and the door hasn't closed behind us when I begin my assault: "Shouldn't A* be doing more to prepare for summer?" "He needs something important on his resume--something big." I go on and on, parroting the scary voices that have taken up residence in my head. C* assures me that no, he does not. That A*'s fully baked and formed and our job as parents is done. Done? What parallel universe does he live in? "But, but . . . " I sputter. Only to be cut off by the sane, rational man by my side. He refuses to buy in to it. We may both be in our 40s but we haven't forgotten our lazy summers--sleeping late, watching Happy Days reruns, and collecting quarters from under the sofa cushions in preparation for the daily afternoon arrival of the ice cream truck. Not exactly resume-building activities.

He's right. I know he's right. I vow to relax. I vow to calm down. I vow to give A* the credit that he deserves and back off so that he can feel free to make his own choices. Maybe a lazy childhood will be his distinguishing feature. Maybe we--I mean he--can use this to advantage. This could be our angle. I vow to check the TV listings to see if Happy Days is available on cable.