Dear Baby Avery,
You are 35 weeks, baby girl! High five! Because, you know what? I’m thinking 4 more weeks and you are outta there! These Braxton Hicks are somethin’ fierce these days and I am fully convinced we are in intense training for Olympics Delivery 2012. Gold medal contenders, of course!
Yesterday, a friend was lamenting that her daughter is enjoying her holiday break from college on her dime. We were in a Pilates Reformer class and all the women started laughing and agreed that college was awesome. My mom calls it “subsidized independence” because you get all this freedom with very little responsibility compared to being in the “real world.”
Tuition? Paid for by mom and dad.
Food? Parents foot the bill for that too and, if you’re lucky, provide some freezable homemade items.
Rent? No need to stress; the check comes every month. You are set for at least the academic year. Summer too, if you can convince dad it’s a “good working experience.” Worst comes to worst, you move back home for a few months where you get your laundry done, work with no bills to meet, and hang out with friends before classes start up again.
I was thinking about it and decided that the only time kids have it even easier is when they are in untero. This is what I would call subsidized co-dependence.
Tuition? You are getting so much “credit” right now for all the learning you are doing just by hanging out and growing a brain. I saw your cousin Isabelle find her foot while she was in Auntie Natalie’s tummy during an ultrasound. You would have thought this baby had just cured cancer by the way we all reacted. I think we may have given her a standing ovation. I’m more than slightly biased, but she did turn out pretty intelligent. I haven’t even see you find a foot and I’m already convinced you are musical because you bounced around so much during the Christmas concert on Sunday.
Food? I’ve got you covered. You are getting a lot of fresh-squeezed orange juice, lucky girl. Only the good stuff for you. Last night you dined on grass-fed and finished filet mignon from Homegrown Meats, quinoa – kid, that has all 9 essential amino acids, and brussel sprouts followed by some chocolate. Okay, and a couple of Pepperidge Farm cookies with a glass of milk. You don’t even have to microwave a home-cooked meal, much less go to the grocery store or do dishes.
Rent? Free! You’ve just settled right in, too. I’m pretty sure your big head is crushing my vena cava. However, you’re entitled to stay in there for around 9 months – the same time as a full academic year at UCLA, my alma mater. Coincidence? I’d say that you are pretty squished in my Sproul Uterus, but let me tell you that the dorms in Sproul Hall my freshman year provided about the same amount of space with none of the privacy.
You are, however, on a tight leash. You can’t just go out to Sunset Boulevard and dance the night away on mommy’s and daddy’s dime. No boys. No parties. No freedom. Still, I think you have it pretty good, baby girl.
So, let’s talk about cutting the cord. Consider this your 30 days notice. We’ve gone to all our baby prep classes and we’ve even cracked open a few books on what to do with you once you get here. Dad and I spent a lot of time this weekend setting up your room and I did all your laundry. Don’t expect me to do that when you come home from college! That will be part of cutting the apron strings. I’m not saying it will be easy. As my friend’s daughter will learn when she graduates from college, freedom comes at a price and failure is inevitable. Still, I think we’ll be okay, baby girl. The umbilical cord will be cut, but you’ll be safe in our arms.
PS – Your father would like to clarify that he did not receive a check every month from his parents. He went to college on Walmart’s dime. If you want to do the same, go for it! Just pretty please don’t go to one of those other schools. You’ll break our hearts ;)
Because every post should have a photo, here is one of your momma with the Madame Alexander baby doll your Auntie Sharonlynn gave you: