This morning, when I dropped my daughter off at school, I heard two mothers chatting.
They were both talking about how difficult it is to send children off to first grade.

"I thought I would get so much done," one woman said.
"I know," the other woman replied. "But all day I find myself wondering what she's doing."

I'm a lot older than they are, and it's been a long time since I had a first-grader. But I know how they feel.

I've learned that "out of sight, out of mind" just doesn't apply where children are concerned.

In Monday's Home Planet I wrote about worrying about my son. He's 19, and out of my sight a lot of the time. But he's on my mind a lot.
Right now, he's with a crew fighting fires several hours away from Spokane. I'm sure he is safe. But just like the woman who spent the day wondering what her first-grader was up to, he is always on my mind.

Years ago I wrote an essay about sending my children back to school. The piece took on a life of its own and each year around this time I get requests for copies.

I've already had a couple of calls so I thought I would post it here.

Naturally, things change. This year, I have only two children to get ready for school. My older son and daughter now take care of their own supplies, lunches and back-to-school clothes.

So, for the 2006-2007 school year, because some things never change, here's my list:

(Originally printed Monday, September 2, 2002)

Start the school year with promises
Cheryl-Anne Millsap - Correspondent

My children know that on the first day of school, maybe even the first weeks of school, I'll get up early to make their eggs just the way they like them. Or arrange their pancakes and bacon into smiley faces.

They also know that by mid-February, there will be mornings I'll dig through the breadbox for power bars left over from Bloomsday, so they can eat breakfast on the school bus.

I know that my children will start the school year with sharpened pencils and carefully organized backpacks, and by May their desks will be full of dangerously unwound spiral notebooks, missing assignments and dried up markers.

Going to school can be hard work. Getting children to school can be hard work, too. We all (parents and children) start each year with the best of intentions, but the real world, with its deadlines and gray skies and big misunderstandings, comes crashing in on us. The little things, like smiley face breakfasts and organized backpacks fall by the wayside.

That's why before the craziness starts, I pull out the "back to school" list and put it on the refrigerator. It isn't a list of school supplies, or a list of things that need to be taken care of before school starts. It is a list of promises; part contract and part covenant. It tells my children what they can expect of me and what I expect of them in return. I keep it on the door of the refrigerator, pinned by magnetic poetry, hidden behind artwork and band calendars, until the edges curl and summer vacation comes at last.

I wrote the list years ago, before my youngest daughter was even born. I wrote it when I was a sleep-deprived, over-committed young mother trying to find the energy to get three children up and out the door every morning. I needed to remind us all that even though I wasn't going to school with them each day, I was a partner in their education.

Over the years my friends saw the list and asked for a copy to put on their refrigerators. Sometimes, teachers asked for a copy to put in their classrooms.

This year my youngest child is entering second grade and my oldest is a senior in high school. I'm not so young anymore, but I am still a mother. My work isn't finished, and neither is theirs. As long as I have children running out to meet the bus, sometimes with breakfast in their hands, this list stays on the fridge.

Back to school

I'll wake you up and get you to school. You can't learn if you aren't there.

I'll put you to bed when I think you need to go, and I'll make you stay there. You can't learn if you can't stay awake.

I'll buy you clothes that fit the season and fall somewhere between totally boring and incredibly cool. You can't learn if you are thinking about what you are wearing.

I'll help you have fun after school and on weekends, but I won't let you take on too much. You can't learn if you are too tired.

I'll give you a place to do your homework and I'll give you a helping hand, but I won't do it for you. You can't learn if you don't study.

I will stand beside your teacher, and together we will show you the wonders of the world. But you have to do the hard part and put your heart into everything you do. You can't learn if you don't care.

(You can hear an audio version of the column on PRX here.)

It's Wednesday. You know what that means, don't you? It's Project Runway night.

In this week's Home Planet I wrote about my favorite show. And I told the story of my own fashion challenge. A challenge I failed, by the way.

Now, here's the crisis: I moved over the weekend and the cable isn't connected yet. A crisis!

Would it make headlines if a mother and her three daughters - two of which are minors - hijack a sports bar television and demand the channel be changed to Bravo?

I can't help it. I'm a junkie. I need my Runway. I need to see what Laura's wearing. I need Tim Gunn.

This has been the summer of the move. We've been getting the house ready to sell, dealing with prospective buyers and agents and, now, packing to move.

Not very relaxing.

The big move takes place this weekend, and I'm so frazzled I'm talking crazy.

On my way out the door this morning, I warned everyone to expect yet another invasion. The new owners, or a representative, will be coming over to measure for new carpet.

"You don't have to be nice," I said. "Just be polite."

I'll let the kids figure out what I meant. I'm not sure I know.

In today's Home Planet, I got on my soapbox.

I have three daughters and I get so frustrated by the choices when I shop for them.
It's especially troubling to see what's out there for my 11-year-old.

I've gotten quite a few calls about the column. Turns out I'm not the only grumpy mom. I heard from other frustrated parents and grandparents.

Here's a letter from a father and grandfather who isn't happy with the state of fashion, but doesn't want to hurt any feelings:

Excellent column today. The widespread mimic of the two-dollar hooker "look" has been vexing many of us. The acceptance of that look by parents and young girls alike is sad. Unfortunately, those of us who are grandparents must bring full concentration to the situation in order to keep out mouths shut and not offend those we love. Thank you for your piece. I wish it could have been front page.

Darin Z. Krogh

Listen to today's podcast here.

It's not as wild and crazy as Richard Scarry's Busy Town, but Spokane is a lot of fun these days.

I wrote about a stroll around town in today's Home Planet column. You can listen to the Audio here .

CAM: In today's Home Planet column I wrote about a painting of the Oregon coast by Gordon Wilson. The painting hangs on the wall in my bedroom and it's the first thing I see most mornings.

I love the rocky Pacific coast. I only get there once a year or so, but I always enjoy it. And I look forward to returning.
When I can't be there, I look at the painting.
Here's a note from another ocean lover. She created her own sea view and painted a mural on the wall in her bedroom.

Photo courtesy Thelma Thon-Sevey

Mail:
Hi Cheryl-Anne,
I am also a lover of the ocean. And being an artist of sorts I painted a seascape on my bedroom wall. It is approx 4ft by 8ft and as I lay in my bed I am "sailing along"
I hope you enjoy seeing what I see every morning and evening.
Thelma Thon-Sevey

You can hear the Audio
of "Let summer waves wash away worries" here.

There's hope for beating the summer heat.

My kids have discovered the new pool north of Spokane and they love it.
The Northside Aquatic facility on Hatch Road off Highway 395 is big and clean and lots of fun.
It may be a little too much for younger children but my soon-to-be 11 year navigated just fine.

The admission is $4 for anyone over 6 years old.

Got a letter from my 10-year-old who is away at camp. She says she's having a great time and has only one mosquito bite. So far.

This time last year I was worried because she was away at camp for the first time and might be missing me terribly. Not the case.
She had a wonderful time and couldn't wait to get back this summer.

I have to admit, I'm a little jealous. I'd like to get a week away to make new friends, eat smores and swim in the lake.

Anyone else for a week at "Camp Momaway?"

I've got the house hunting blues. You can listen to the podcast of today's Home Planet column Audio here

Feel free to sing along.

We delivered my daughter to camp yesterday. She packed up a duffle bag full of necessities and never looked back.

I like to send a note or two to the children while they are at camp, but it can be tricky. Things don't arrive in time or I forget to get them in the mail. So I came up with another solution.

Now, instead of mailing letters, I send each child to camp with a mail bag. In it are manilla envelopes for each day. I slip a treat like a deck of cards or a little game that can be shared with cabin mates (no candy) and a letter in each envelope. That way nothing gets lost in the mail and I don't have to worry about forgetting to send anything off.

I've been doing this for several years and my children love it.

Question: Do you have a special way to send treats to camp for your child?

When I was a kid, summer vacation meant one thing: All the time in the world to read.
I spent hours perusing the stacks at the library, searching for something new and wonderful.
I read in the porch swing, in the hammock and curled up in a chair in the living room.
At night I read under the covers in my bed.

My children are good readers, but the computer and television compete for their time and attention.

If your children are looking for suggestions for good summer reading material, they might find some good advice here.

As I sat in the audience, watching my son walk across the stage and pick up his diploma, I began to feel sick. I mean really awful.

The thought flitted through my mind that I might be suffering from Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. My 18-year-old son has a certain reputation. He likes to have his fun. It's been a long 12 years.

All the way through elementary, middle school and high school, it's been a challenge to keep my lively son on the right side of the authorities. He is legendary for some of his high-spirited antics.

In fact, three days before graduation, the school bells mysteriously failed to ring. My son said that,one by one, members of the school administration quietly sought him out and asked if he'd had anything to do with it.
(The answer was no. This time of year, most teachers and principals are too busy and too tired to see the humor in that kind of prank. And the boy knew he had to keep his nose clean...)

Anyway, turns out my nerves weren't shot. It was just a 24-hour virus. I'm beginning to feel a little better.

But I can't help but wonder if any of his teachers are showing the same symptoms. Maybe we all have PTSD. Otherwise known as Put (Robert) Through School Disorder.

Nah, I'm sure it's just a virus...

Congratulate me.
I've delivered a 6' 2" high school graduate. My son is picking up his diploma tonight.

If you're a survivor, someone who has gotten a child through school and lived to tell about it, you've got my respect. Those teenagers aren't easy to raise.

So, to all of us who are celebrating the launching of a new adult, Cheers!

If I can have your attention for a minute, I'd like to get something off my chest:

I'm going bonkers!

Tell me I'm not the only one.

It's a little crazy around here with all the end of the year activities. And there's still more than a week of school left.

Why?

Why do we have to squeeze in field trips, school BBQs, fun days and parties. Whatever happened to just going to school until it was time for summer vacation?

If I have to write one more check, sign one more permission slip or send cookies for one more shindig I'll lose it.

Ok. End of rant. Go back to what you were doing.

Are you going a little nuts with all the hoopla surrounding the end of the school year?
How do you handle it?

Sunday afternoon I retreated to the shoe department at Nordstrom Rack.

I admit it. That's how I deal with stress.
Well, that and chocolate. And old movies. And escape novels and hiding in bookstores and reading the New York Times while lingering over a cappucino at Starbucks...

OK, I obviously don't deal well with stress, but that's a topic for another day.

Yesterday, while I sat on the little bench at the end of the size 8 aisle, trying on the armful of shoes that had caught my eye, a woman sitting on the little bench across from me spoke.

She held up the same pair of black pumps I was trying on and encouraged me to buy them.

Naturally, I returned the favor.

We struck up a conversation and for the next, oh, 30 minutes or so, didn't stop.

She was up from Walla Walla for The Farm Chicks sale.

Talking about that we discovered that we had been there at the same time on Saturday and that our paths crossed a number of times. She ordered pasta from Davide at Trezzi just as I walked away, she bought a table from my friends Sally and Nancy while I was in their space, and she had a long conversation with Farm Chick Serena while I was interviewing someone nearby.

We also discovered a similar philosophy about having children, living in the Northwest and spending time with our female friends.

All over a pair of shoes.

I left Nordstrom with a little less stress, a new pair of shoes and a new friend's address and phone number.

Now that's power shopping.

There are several antique sales going on this weekend, but I've got something else on my plate.
I have to start packing.

I plan to move this summer and I want to go through a few things before I put the house on the market.

As much as I write about junk (collectibles) in my Treasure Hunt column,in Home I don't like a lot of it piling up around my house.

So...although I'd love to go out hunting and gathering, I'll probably spend most of my time sorting through what I've already got.

*sigh*

I especially enjoy it when something I write leads readers to share their own stories. That's what happened with my March 20 Home Planet column about my penchant for picking up heart-shaped stones.

You can download and listen to the Spokesman-Review podcast of that column here .

In today's Home Planet I shared a few of those stories.

Pull up a chair, pour a cup of coffee and join me in the Heart Rock Cafe.

It's hard to know what shapes us, exactly. In the course of a lifetime we encounter so many people and places.
But over the years that have passed since I was a shy 18-year-old - in way over my head - sitting across the table from Art Buchwald, listening to him and watching him interact with others, I've thought about than night often.

It has to be connected to the fact that I'm here now. And that I can finally put this on paper.

In today's Home Planet, I wrote a letter to my daughter who just turned 21.
I gave her a list of twenty-one things to think about now that she's an adult.

People in my house don't alway read what I write. But, this time, I hope my daughter takes a peek at it.
Or, I could just get her to listen to the column on the Spokesman-Review podcast.

It probably just sounds like nagging to her now. But, perhaps in a few years she'll find something she needs in my words.

I may look the same on the outside, but I've gone all Italian on the inside.

I like to listen to audio books while I drive. My latest is Extra Virgin by Annie Hawes.

Hawes writes about her 20+ year adventure in a tiny village in Liguria , a coastal region in Italy.

When she and her sister took jobs as rose grafters in the 1980s they bought a ramshackle little "rustico" in the hills.
Returning to England only long enough to earn a little money, the pair headquarted in the cottage full time.
And as far as I know, they are still there.

So, lately my communte has been full of the details of olive farming, quirky and beloved villagers, and the story of Hawes and her sister.

By the time I get home, all I want is a glass of red wine, a bite of cheese and some good crusty bread. And olives. I'm fascinated by the process of turning bitter and unfriendly fruit into the delectible olives I'm so crazy about.
Mmmm. Buon appetito!

Today's Home Planet was a reflection on what it means to matter in this world.
I found my answer after thinking about the death of Dana Reeve, actress Reese Witherspoon's recent Oscar acceptance speech and the love between Johnny Cash and his wife June Carter Cash.

Read the column here.

You can hear the Spokesman-Review podcast of the column here or listen to it on PRX here.

This morning's Home Planet is a survivor story. Anyone who has parented a child through the teen years, and into early adulthood, will know how I felt.
You can read the column here, or download an mp3 and listen here.

So there I was, folding a little laundry and minding my own business.
I turned on the TV for distraction and got blindsided by the last third of Steel Magnolias .

Now, I must have seen the movie a dozen times. I know what's coming. I know the good lines . And I know how it ends.

But there I was, surrounded by socks and towels, crying my eyes out.

If I made a list of my favorite chick flicks, Steel Magnolias would have to to be in the top ten. (It's number 40 on this list.)
You can't argue with the great cast, and well-written script.

The good news is that while I was sniffling into my Kleenex I got the clothes folded and put away.

Mission accomplished.

I was starved for a little bit of dress-up fun so I talked my daughter - the one who loves to dress up - into a night on the town.
We got last minute tickets to the Spokane Aids Network Oscar Night Gala at the Davenport Hotel.
After getting settled comfortably at our table, she sat in the ballroom and watched the Academy Awards at one of the big-screen televisions around the room. I prowled around the silent auction and chatted with the crowd.

This was a lot more than just grabbing dinner at McDonalds, but it was valuable on several levels.
First, my girl got to put her hair up put on a pretty dress.
She also got to practice those table manners I'm always preaching. And she chatted with the adults around our table like a pro.

I got to spend a little time with her and a night out. Not bad.

So, I'll eat peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for lunch this week. It was worth it.
The money raised went to a very worthwhile cause and it was a great evening.

I thought the Oscars were a little dull. (Reese Witherspoon was lovely, as always) But it's hard to have a dull night at The Davenport.