Southern Living

I had to drive down to Evansville today, so that Jill could get registered for classes and do freshman orientation. Just having Jill in the car can be an interesting experience, and we had to leave at 5:15, so I really wasn't sure what to expect. I guess I knew it wouldn't be normal when I saw her walk out to the car in her pajamas, with a comforter wrapped around her head.

It was pouring rain, too, which didn't excite me too much. I love my little Yaris, but when it's windy, it blows all over the place -- you'd think with this fatty in the car, I'd anchor it down, but no go. Add dark, semis and pouring rain to the mix, toss it in a bowl, and you get how I spent three and half hours of my morning. And without caffeine, too, which definitely made me cranky, but since Jill was sleeping in the back seat, I didn't want to stop and risk waking the sleeping dragon, so I just kept going.

Round about Vincennes, two and a half hours into our journey, Jill sat up and announced she was changing clothes. In the back seat of the car. I guess her days of modesty are gone, because after some muttering and kicking the back of my seat, she tossed the orientation schedule at me. This paper was something that she had gotten in the mail several weeks ago and me, trying to avoid being a helicopter parent, trusted her when she told me the time we needed to arrive. I asked her again the other day, and the answer was the same -- 8 o'clock. I even happened to remember that Evansville, being in the heel of the boot, so to speak, is on Central time, which gave us an extra hour. An extra hour, that is, till I looked at that form and saw the little blurb about the placement test starting at 7am. The mandatory placement test which, if you don't take it, you can't register for classes.

That's when the mama dragon woke up, sans coffee, and was not smelling roses.

I was pretty concerned about doing seven hours of driving, only to come home unscheduled for classes, but right about the time I started vocalizing my concerns, Jill said she felt sick. Said she felt sick in a tone that only a mother can appreciate, when you're in a car with a kid in a back seat full of stuff that isn't gonna be easy to clean up if she spews. I yelled at her to get in the front seat, thinking that all of the blowing around of the car might be making her carsick, and next thing you know, she's clambering over the gearshift and plopping next to me.

It was a miracle cure.

After missing a turn to the school, we finally arrived, only to be told that yes, she could do the placement test, but not till the afternoon, or she'd only have twenty minutes to do it. Sat through two long orientation sessions -- finally got caffeine in the break, which was a good thing, cause I was falling asleep for sure, and got the fisheye from a couple of the speakers. There may have been snoring involved, but I'm not sure of that. I do know that nothing will put a grown woman to sleep quicker than seemingly intelligent people asking stupid questions that have already been answered, especially when it involves financial aid. The other thing I know is that I walked out with another Mountain Dew in my purse, just for safety's sake.

Took The Brat to advising, so she could schedule her classes. Twenty minutes later, he walked out alone. No sign of Jill. They ended up taking every kid who was waiting, and a few more who walked in, before Jill finally reappeared. She looked happy, thank God. And so, after spending eight hours at the halls of secondary education, what was the one thing that Jill had to say about her day?

"Most of the guys I saw were not bad looking. Oh, let that guy out of his parking space first. He's cute." ::guy pulls out in front of me, after cutting me off in the first place:: "Oh, never mind, he's not that great. But that guy who handed me my bag? He was fine." Oh yes, great readers, you too will one day understand that the most important thing in freshman orientation is finding that the guys are not bad looking, and some rank as just darn FINE. And since she came home and looked up some of her professor's on Rate My Professors, she's already changed her schedule to something more acceptable. But one thing remains the same: those boys are fine.
God help me. I may need Xanax for this. Click the image to help with tuition money.