Tough Love?

One of the conditions that Lindsey has to meet before we leave is to walk a mile with the fully packed backpack, wearing her walking shoes. I'm not going to carry her backpack and mine if she can't handle it or she gets a blister.  Tough love? 

It was quite entertaining to watch this unfold.  She stuffs everything she thinks she needs for the trip. No surprise.....It won't zip! So she pulls out a few things.....still won't zip. After careful consideration and grumbling she extracts a few more things. Wah la! It zips. Of course, it looks like it's going to explode, but it's zipped!  She proudly presents it at my feet. Bad news time....."Lindsey, there is a weight limit too". "You failed to tell me that Mom" she replied.  "I did tell you, you just had your ears plugged with music, ignoring me".  There's more of that tough love. 

She drops it onto the scale. The needle bounces back and forth and finally settles on a whopping 32lbs.  The limit is 26lbs.  "There's no way I can get it down to 26lbs, they must be crazy, who made up this stupid rule?"  she screeched from the bathroom.   Back to her room to analyze the contents again.  I could hear zippers being unzipped with frustration (there really is a different sound to that), mumbling, and sighs.....lots of sighs. 

I keep seeing her go in and out of the bathroom to weigh the backpack and then back to her room mumbling "....stupid airline and their stupid rules...".  I could hear her footsteps, back and forth, back and forth.  Each trip produced less and less venting and sighing as she worked her way to the dreaded goal. It seemed like hours. 

"I did it!" came from the bathroom.  "It's 26lbs exactly!" she proudly announces.  "Lets' see what you ended up with" I replied.  I wanted to make certain there were actually basic clothing items in there so I didn't end up at the shops when we landed.  She watched my every move as I gently peaked through the items. She was checking the look on my face to see where she stood.   "Good job!" (verbal pat on the head).  She proudly went back to her room, put on her walking shoes and jumped on the treadmill for the required 1 mile test run.  What a great kid. I think this tough love thing really works. Do you think I can expect an official "Thank You" from the airline?  :-)

Hmmmm.....

"Dear Ms. Wilhelm,

I am happy to report that we do have a French host family available for the time your daughter is attending our school. Ms. Desmarais will be more than happy to offer you a room with half board for the price of 165 Euros.  During the time your daughter will be here she will also be hosting a 14 yr. old French girl and a 16 yr. old Swiss boy......." 

Eeeerrrrckkkk! That's the time I stopped reading; breathed deeply and tried to hide my panic.  All of my "Mother" alarms went to full alert.  Seriously? A hormone raging, Swiss boy staying in the same house as my precious, innocent daughter? I don't think so!  I'm trying to rack my brain to see how I could get around my issues with this situation....I'm still thinking..... think...think... think..... hmmmm.

Ok, so I tell Lindsey the situation. I anticipate her response (in my dream world).   "Yuck, gross, I don't want to be in the same house as a young, handsome, Swiss teenage boy!"
Instead I got...…"Mother! Don't you trust me?" …..made with direct eye contact with those baby blue eyes.
"Of course I do" I replied.  I don't trust him!  (words unsaid but thought - "That scummy, hormone raging, knuckle dragging, baboon") 

"Mom.... really?  It will be fine.  Don't worry, I'm not going to ruin my life over some gorgeous, tall, worldly stud from Switzerland!"

"hmmmmm....." I replied (I say that a lot when I don't know how to rebuttal and improve my case).

Still thinking....got nothing.....maybe he's gay?  (not that there is anything wrong with that).

The Age of Connectivity

Being in an age of technology that allows me to work from any location in the world OR track down a teenager in minutes is awesome.  Now, from another perspective.....packing all of the necessary cables, converters, adapters and chargers for a trip is daunting! I laid out the electronic equipment that I'm pretty sure we need for the month. Lindsey's iPod - check! Cant' take music away from a teenager. Mobile phones - check! I need the ability to track down the teenager in French cafes talking to French boys. iTouch - check! Provides scrabble, Google maps, skype, stock watching etc. for my sanity. Netbook - check! Lindsey insists on the ability to talk to her best friend who is touring China.  I did argue that [they] do have internet cafes in Europe and we were not staying in a cave or Sherwood forest.  Teenager's rebuttle: But what if their connectivity is down, closed, or too busy????  "hmmmm..." I replied. I agreed since it will provide television programs in English when all around me will be French, French and more French.

Along with the load of equipment, I need chargers, adapters and/or converters to the French/Swiss electric power.  Ugh! Why can't we all have the same plugs? Is this a marketing conspiracy?  I have a better idea....why Don't we just stay in Sherwood forest?  We could use the stars for directions, send smoke signals to communicate and listen to chirping crickets for music.  Ahhh...now that's a nice vacation. I can only dream.

What to wear? What to take? Better yet, what to buy in France?

Lindsey had her nose wedged in her book and was ignoring my chatter (important Mom chatter). In the many things I was telling her, I mentioned that she could only take a (one, une, single, eine) backpack on this trip to France and Switzerland.  I had moved on to the next thought when she raised her head with a serious and perplexed look on her face. "Wait, back up....the backpack thing....You have got to be kidding?".  I stated my case ..."No need to take so much stuff...pack light...move swiftly from train to train...". All I got was an exaggerated eye-roll, her shoulders slumped over and all of the air left her lungs.  She came back with...."but I will need so many things....I'll be going to a lot of places.. It's FRANCE mom.....I neeeeeeed a big suitcase!".  My response...."hmmm....".

I stood my ground and the next few days were peaceful with nothing more than her conspicuously listing out the items she MUST take to survive the month in Europe. It was obvious she had been thinking about her mother imposed torture when she came strolling into my room and told me that she was fine with the backpack thing (along with an eye roll) and that she would just be buying her clothes in France.  My response..."NOT!"  Maybe a bigger suitcase might be needed...hmm.