Sunday, July 22, 2012


This afternoon we left our boy in Cincinnati, a much.much.much larger city than our town of Lexington.  He's spending a week at the Cincinnati Conservatory of Music.

As of today, there's a possibility he might want to attend college there, on the University of Cincinnati campus.  Again, Cincinnati is a much.much.much bigger city than ours.

It hit me as we drove back into Lexington.  I've heard people mention how big they feel Lexington is.  Especially if they're from a small town.  But really, it's not a big city.  A big town, maybe.

It's hard to leave your kids somewhere.  I think it's different when they get on a bus and ride away.  Like on a school trip.  They're with familiar people.  But saying good-bye, jumping in the car, and leaving your child in a place far away is unnerving.

A year from now, he'll be preparing for his first semester in college.  He might be attending the University of Kentucky, which is a few miles south of our home.  Which means he could still sleep here [as in home], or at least eat here occasionally, and of course, do his laundry here [or have his dad do his laundry here].  But a year from now, he could possibly be preparing for a move to the big city.  Maybe not Cincinnati, but another one.  A scenario where we'll drive him and leave him and maybe not see him for weeks.

While walking about the campus today, I asked daughter Allie if she thinks she'd like to attend the University of Cincinnati.  She liked the large campus feel, but believes it's too close to home.  Later in the evening, Allie told me she'd like to attend college in another country.  Preferably England.  [In case you didn't know, that's a long way from our home.]

I'm hoping this England thing is a phase [see previous entry].  I recommended she consider college in Canada.  It's another country, and......I figure we can at least drive there.

These days are difficult for a mother.  I liked that year when the kids were in 5th and 2nd grade.

Tuesday, July 17, 2012

who's Eleanor?

Names interest me. I can't remember the title, but yesterday I saw a book at the library that had something to do with an intense methodology to use when choosing a baby name.  We chose to name our son after my husband and our daughter after my sister [no science except biology involved, thanks].  Lately I've wondered why I always tell the truth when those silly password questions ask for my mother's maiden name.  Why don't I make up something super exotic like Bevacqua or Tolstoy or Rachmaninoff?  Or alternate between Smith and Jones?  Today while driving I saw a van that said "Colvin's" something or other on the side.  Since that's my mother's actual maiden name, I decided I better take it as a sign and stick with the truth.

{God save the queen.......}
My mind races on......the surname Colvin can be traced back to Ireland and/or England.  Which brings me to the title of this entry.....  Eleanor.  Someone my daughter seems to know a bunch about.  And she happily explained everything she knows of Eleanor, plus showed me Eleanor's photos from the internet this afternoon.  In case you're like me, and find yourself culturally unaware, Eleanor dates one of the young men from One Direction.  Apparently Eleanor is British and stylish.  And aren't all things British to be celebrated right now [Olympics, Kate and William, Queen's Diamond Jubilee]?  In my daughter's world they are, as her room recently went through a bit of a European makeover. . .  And darn it if I don't love Downton Abbey myself.  

Eleanor and the Brits aside, there are less than 30 days of summer left before my son and daughter return to school.  And this year is unique because they'll attend school together.  We'll be able to drop them off at the same time/same place.  And most days they'll return home together.  This hasn't happened since my son's last year of elementary school, and darn if it will ever happen again.  So this year is a golden year, so to speak.  It's the last year before our James goes to college.  It's the year of many "lasts", which is interesting, because I still remember noting many of the "firsts".  

Decisions are ahead.  College choices and more and it's a lot to take in.  I'm ready for a support group for parents of almost college students and girls who wish they were British.  

Saturday, July 14, 2012


I'm a journaler.  I like to write.  Obviously, I have a blog.  I write prayers.  I write how I'm feeling.  Generally, I journal more when I'm feeling blasé and/or sad than I do when I'm gleeful.  

One night a few weeks ago, when my husband was away, I skimmed through my current journal.  The first entry was in May 2010.  Approximately 2 years ago.  Once I shut the book, I realized I've been through a lot in 2 years.  

Many of the entries during the summer of 2010 had to do with my then workplace, Heritage of Kentucky, losing a grant.  Prayers recorded asking God to keep it operating.  It didn't work out that way.  Prayers that I'd get another job, if it didn't work out.  I did get another job, which I currently have.  

We've moved.  Our kids are now high schoolers.  My husband has a different job.  I stopped eating meat.  

Sometimes I tell myself I'm not who and what I should be. 

My parents came for a visit recently.  They brought along a few items from my childhood  to give to me.  One was a large, framed photograph of my eighth grade class.  I'm considering hanging it over our bed.  [not really]  The interesting thing about the photo is that my daughter just graduated 8th grade in May, 30 years after I did.  So, when I look at the photo, I see me when I was like her now.  

And again, I wonder, am I who I should be?  I realize we're more than what we do and we're more than what others think of us.  But isn't it alright to ask oneself when staring at this type of photo, 

"Self, after four years of high school then four years of college, followed by twenty-two years of being a wife and working and parenting and learning, are you who you're supposed to be?"
Will my daughter, thirty years from now, regret who she's become?  I think that's my biggest fear for her.  If not my biggest, it's one of the predominants. I want her to be wholly and completely her.

Yet, I tell myself I'm doing alright.  Two years and a lot.lot.lot of changes.  And more changes on the horizon.  I'm hanging in there.  But am I living someone else's dream?  Am I helping someone else obtain their goals.hopes.dreams more than I'm helping myself achieve mine or my family's?

Maybe it's time to get a new journal....

Sunday, July 1, 2012

700 wives

Last evening at church, the sermon was based on the book of Ecclesiastes.  The pastor talked about King Solomon and mentioned this particular king had 700 wives and 300 concubines.  He didn't spend a lot of time expounding on this, as that wasn't the crux of the sermon.  Yet, throughout my time sitting there listening, I couldn't get over the fact that this [wise] king had personal access to 1000 women.  Should we not point out the wrongness in this?

I know, I know....we're not supposed to point out what we deem as "wrong" with the bible, but how in the world can we take advice from a man who had 700 wives?  What did that even look like?  Did 700 weddings occur?  Were some of them double or triple ceremonies?  Were some of the wives sisters?  I'm guessing it was hard to pay a lot of attention as to what 700 women were doing on a daily basis, therefore many of them probably developed romantic relationships with other men around the palace.  Yes, I'm assuming, as I haven't done thorough research.  Yet I have to wonder if he knew every one of these women by name?  Did they have any choice in marrying him?  Was one honored to become wife #367 of the king?  And did it give one low self esteem to be chosen as a concubine instead of a wife?  Or was this a sort of minor league, and they were able to slowly move up?  Did they all go on vacation together?  Did they have a cafeteria, where they all ate dinner every night?  I just can't imagine how all this worked logistically.  Did they have roommates?  I picture a college dorm for girls.

It just seems so ludicrous.  My husband jokes about being alone for 3 weeks with my daughter and I.  It's not easy being the only male.  How does one handle 700 women?  Plus another 300?

I realize it was a different time.  And a different part of the world.  It just seems so silly.  How can I take practical advice from a man who had to buy 1000 birthday gifts a year?  And that's not counting gifts for the kids.......  He was fortunate Christmas hadn't happened yet.

Did he know his in-laws?  Did he keep straight who liked what color?  It's so nonsensical.  Obviously, God did not desire for Solomon to marry women who worshiped foreign gods.  That was an issue.  But the man wrote the book of Proverbs, for heaven's sake.  Is that not a conflict?  

Just a few thoughts.  Hopefully not irreverent ones.  Seven hundred wives just seems a bit excessive.