Mission Impossible: University Orientation Edition

I planned a nice, quick trip to the new school with the munchkins yesterday to try to blow through an orientation, an attempt to avoid the beginning of a "frosh" week and do a nice quick and out of the school before feeling like I need my cane.  The plan was to simply run to the bookstore and check to see if a horribly overpriced sociology book was finally in stock then run to get the orientation kit I ordered at three AM last weekend.  A bag packed with surprise goodies?  How could an overtired, overwhelmed, broke, cranky and yet excited to go back to school mom refuse?  

It was fun and quiet when we flooded off of the bus and up the hill to Rosario Hall.  Somehow everyone thought it was Miss Lily starting classes, not dear old mom standing in front of her asking all of the stupid questions and avoiding the chatter about the things I was avoiding like pub crawls and welcome dinners, mature student mixers and Shinerama (good cause but sorry, I really don't have the time).  We slid by the radio station team and the giggling teenagers in their shining, newly minted adult status being embarrassed by good ole mom and dad in front of their new drinking buddies.  I feel bad but I can't help but wonder how many of them will succumb to those butterflies and nerves and still be here when classes start, Christmas or next fall.  I hope they become familiar faces and keep those giant, excited smiles.  As much as overly excited young girls annoy the hell out of me with their terrified yet flexing young male counterparts, it's also incredibly infectious.  I danced in public.  I blamed my innate need to embarrass my children but that would be a lie, I danced for the hell of it because it felt good.  I was the oldest student in the vicinity so may as well work it and blame dementia.  Hey, 35 is ancient to someone who barely catching the wind of 19's first fart.

I managed to dance the shorties and I through the area of what I assume is a student lounge, slinked passed a service table complete with ice tea and cookies that landed in my purse without anyone even noticing (mom powers) and up the stairs to breathe before going full spy mode to get to the bookstore without running into more jovial, bouncing, wide awake students.  Nope, we ran into sad mom and what seemed to be an equally annoyed father.

"Hard to see them go, isn't it?" this poor woman quipped at me.  

"Oh I know, these guys are having a hard time seeing me go back to school,"  I replied and walked away from confused faces.  C'mon, I know that was a little mean to weird out those nice people but  how old do I look?  Don't answer that. Then a new game dawned on me... child prodigy.

We finally and, with surprising ease, found the bookstore and I released my children with their library rules while I went to the spot with that elusive sociology book.  Not there.  Card says it isn't in stock yet and I get my little panic in my belly and the over-reaction of what would happen if I didn't have my book in time for class!! Oh no!!  Swiftly I gathered my spawn and went to the desk, asked the nice lady if she know when the particular book would be in because my son was going to need it soon.  I pointed to Everett who just happened to be picking a wedgie at the time... awesome.  

Bookstore was completed and on to get the coveted orientation package.  The area was just down the hall from the bookstore, so it should be easy to not make eye contact with anyone in blue shirts or people at desks.  There was the line of tables manned by what looked like a cheerleading team.  I stopped, lined up the little people behind me and conducted some surveillance to see exactly how this worked.  I carefully watched the next two families go through to get their kits, making note of the order of the people they spoke to, the things they signed, what they walked away with and how fast it went.  I also realized in that moment that I may have some issues with being a social creature.  So far today my sarcasm and innuendo was lost on people plus I was getting nowhere with game of "Child Prodigy" which only myself and Everett found incredibly hilarious.

I signalled to move forward toward the first table, carefully bypassing a table for a charity sign-up (I support you but I don't have the time) and forward to table number one.  Two lovely young girls, neither with a clue of what's going on and seeming to not have found their groove after a possible party the night before.  

I prepaid for the package.  Next table.

Name, first and last.  They lovely young lady welcomed Lily to the school and asked her what size shirt she wanted and, without missing a beat, Lily gave her size while I smiled to put my hand out for the bracelet that would be marking me as one of their own.  Huh?  Yup, that was confusing.

"She's twelve, I'm the student but I promised her she could have the shirt."  I smiled at my very mixed up attendant before she pointed me to keep moving.

Table three.  Basic or enhanced?  This thing was $75 for a basic, well over $100 for an enhanced version.  I don't need pants or sweatshirts so I went for basic.  They attendant once again handed it to Lily and welcomed her to the school.  Everett suddenly yells that he's the one starting on the ninth... child prodigy for the win!!  I am sure that we have reached the point of being everyone's, "you wouldn't believe the nut I met today" story.

Again, how fucking old do we look??

All in all, the morning ended well, we trotted off after meeting some pretty incredible people with some pretty great stuff in my orientation package, well worth every cent and all the hard work the orientation team put into getting it all together.  I have even more of those little butterflies floating around in my belly in anticipation of my first class (psychology 1110 if you're feeling nosy).  So, with all that story out, thank you Mount St. Vincent University for making a fun and incredible morning for myself and my family, for ensuring that starting at thirty-five isn't going to be uncomfortable or weird, that my kids are now excited to see what post-secondary education actually looks like. My orientation package was dumped out (I removed the condoms and lubricant first without anyone noticing) and allowed my munchkins to rifle through and divide it up making them feel like a big part of this experience.  I couldn't be a happier mother, student or part of the story about the weird family at the orientation.

And, thank you for the mittens.