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On Monday, Dale, Josiah, and I traveled down to Farmville, Virginia for a college visit at Longwood University. It’s a Virginia Public University a little over 2 hours away with approximately 4000 undergraduate students. The college was established in 1839 as an all female college. It became coed in 1976 and changed over to a university in 2002. It is now 31% male. I told Josiah if he went there, he would get the same ‘I’m outnumbered’ experience as I had in college. Although, his ratio is not quite as severe as mine (10 to 1). Dale remarked that I should be thankful I was blessed with such a good guy to girl ratio, because it enabled me to pick the cream of the crop.

Yep, he’s the cream of the crop, alright.

The campus looks like Old Virginia with its brick buildings and white columns. We could walk from one end of campus to the other in 10 minutes. There were plenty of lawns, a giant magnolia tree, and a fountain. The dorm rooms were a decent size. Each room has two students and two dorm rooms share a bathroom. There is a laundry room and an RA on each floor. There are all female dorms and coed dorms.

The student to teacher ratio is 20 to 1, and professors not grad assistants teach the classes. The admissions people emphasized that the professors really get to know their students and each professor keeps office hours to be accessible to the students. This tidbit made Dale and I laugh, as well as the mention of the College President having an open door policy. We chuckled further when we saw the honor code displayed prominently in the library. Furthermore, freshman are not allowed to have cars on campus. In the autumn, in a mass show of support for their athletic teams, all the students (with Longwood scarves in hand) march across campus to the first sporting event of the season to cheer on the team.

All these little bits here and there bring back memories to Dale and I of our dear alma mater. The reason for all this similarity: in 2010, the former dean of West Point became the President of Longwood University. I personally suspect, over the course of time, the number of guys on campus will begin to increase.

The campus is very safe. There are blue emergency poles all throughout campus. If you press the button, campus security will be there in 2 minutes. All dorms are only accessible to those who live in them, and there is a door watch person who ensures no one enters the dorm who does not live there. Back in the military, we called this person the CQ (charge of quarters). Furthermore, there is an organization on campus called the night walkers who will walk with you across campus until 4 am if needed. Dale remarked he would feel safer walking by himself than with someone termed a night walker.

There are all kinds of handy dandy jobs on campus for students to apply for besides RA, door watch person, and night walker. Each dorm has a student who is its designated tech support available 24 hours a day. If a student is tech savvy, the university will send them to class to learn the in and outs of trouble shooting and then pay them to find lost papers on crashed computers in the middle of the night. A student can wipe down equipment at the gym, check ids, or give tours for a job.

Every thing is accessed and paid for through your college card. It gains you access to the gym’s climbing wall, the cafeteria food line, and your dorm. You use it for the cost of the washing machine and the cost of your books at the bookstore. I found it most remarkable that it could also be used to buy food at the restaurant all Manrys love just down the street. Modern technology – it’s amazing.

There are two secret organizations on campus, one group is chosen for academics and another group is chosen for leadership. The leadership organization has blue rotunda symbols painted on the walkways throughout campus. A student is never to step on one for fear of something bad happening. The academic organization has black crowns painted on the walkways and it is considered good luck to step on those in the pursuit of good grades. Students specifically run outside to do this during finals week. At West Point, we had to sneak out at midnight and spin the spurs on Sedgewick’s monument if we wanted such luck on an exam. I have come to suspect there must be academic luck spots on every college campus.

In a bit of strangeness, Longwood’s secret leadership organization CHI marches through campus in hoods each year chanting as they march along. The members only reveal themselves at a bonfire before their graduation. Josiah found it amazing that in 2012 secret organizations still march around in hoods on their way to bonfires.

I reminded him we live in the south.

We all really liked the campus: the number of students, its accessibility, and the academic emphasis. We got the feeling it was a good place to go to school. The students were very positive and we figured Josiah would not likely get lost. We have several more college visits to do, but Longwood definitely stays on the list.

We had a mild autumn and winter has not yet arrived. I took some of the flower photos while on a field trip with Zeke this autumn in the gardens behind the Kenmore Plantation in Fredericksburg. Although there have been nights below freezing, my fourth of July rose was still blooming on the fourth of December. On Saturday, 7 January, I saw my quince shrub blooming. The quince must have decided we are not going to have winter at all. Dale put the photos together for me over the weekend and I planned to post them today. Old Man Winter must have been annoyed at being mocked, because he decided to show up today with a brief snow shower.

During the women’s retreat last month, we were allotted 6 hours of free time. (Yippee!) I love free time. Amanda and I played the tourist in Colonial Williamsburg. Amanda, unlike me, could have played the tour guide instead of the tourist. I feared during our time wandering about that the tour guides might snatch Amanda, put a white bonnet on her head, and have her lead people through one historic house or the next.  Amanda has long hair and wears long skirts and we tease her that she belongs in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania. She readily admits she was born during the wrong century.

I found Williamsburg quite interesting. Anyone can wander the streets and look through the windows of the shops for free. However, if you want to go in and see how to bind a book, weave on a loom, make shoes, and cook a pudding, you have to pay for a ticket. Amanda and I purchased tickets and learned all kinds of historical facts. I remember only a few.

1. Most colonists preferred to pay a fine rather than be whipped.

2. A powder room was named a powder room because men would enter the room for the purpose of powdering their wigs.

3. The walls were not painted, but covered with colorful paper.

4. The kitchen was outside the house so if it burned down, it wouldn’t take the house with it.

5. You displayed all the weapons you owned on your walls to both intimidate your enemies and for the ease of grabbing one quickly in the event of an attack.

The entire first quarter of this school year, I have been attempting to be in two places at once. Often, I lose track of my children’s daily activities and where I’m supposed to be when or when I’m supposed to be where. Field Hockey games, Cross Country meets, music lessons, worship practice, church events, birthday parties, friend get-togethers, and class activities are all lost in a blur of driving here, there, and back again.

My inherent laziness (I’d rather be reading a book or watching a Bears game) fights against adding anything to all this busyness. Zeke bears the brunt of “No. Not one more thing.”

Zeke: “Can I play soccer?”

Me: “No.”

Zeke: “Can I play baseball?”

Me: “No.”

Zeke: “All my friends play soccer and baseball.”

Me: “All your friends are first children. First children play soccer and baseball on a team. Fourth children play soccer and baseball on the Wii.”

Zeke: “When can I join a team?”

Me: “When your brother and sister go away to college. You’re the fourth child. I don’t have anymore brain power left to keep track of you.”

The other mothers of Zeke’s classmates feel sorry for him, and they offer to take him to soccer or baseball practice with them if I would just drop him off at their house. I have not given in, but Zeke is unrelenting like the kid on Uncle Buck who asks 38 questions in a row and finishes with the great quote “I’m a kid – that’s my job.”

A few weeks back, Abby was inducted into the National Honor Society (Yeah Abby!). Unfortunately, the lovely ceremony was scheduled for 6:30pm on the same night as Abby’s 4:30pm Field Hockey game across town.The level of organizational planning I needed on that day far exceeded my ability. (I know there are mothers who do this and do this well – I’m related to several of them – but I am not one of them). My first error was in thinking that if I started to get organized at 1pm, I would be ready in time.

First I searched for and ironed Zeke and Gabe’s blue pants, white shirts, and ties. I packed their black shoes and socks. (I was feeling good, thinking I would be done in plenty of time.) Unfortunately for me, a desperate text from Josiah arrived, “Call the school and tell Mrs. Clay I can’t play piano for the ceremony tonight. She says I have to play.”

Josiah was inducted into the National Honor Society last year (Yeah Josiah!), but he and I thought he was not required to attend this years induction because he had a Cross Country meet starting at 4pm nearly two hours away from the school. Immediately,  my “Seriously son, why must you always do this to me?” agitation spiked and I thought, “Three places at once?” I called the school and discovered that yes, he had to play the piano, but they had helpfully arranged that another parent would whisk his son (who was being inducted) and Josiah off the race finish line and drive them quickly back to the school.

Now, I was scrambling. I had planned time to pack my dress/shoes/jewelry, the snacks/water bottles/lawn chairs/cowbells/balls for the Field Hockey game, but had not expected to search for and prepare Josiah’s pants/shirt/tie/jacket/socks/shoes and most importantly piano music. The two things that saved me from failure were my organized daughter who already had her bag of toiletries with dress and shoes in the car and my husband who would be coming straight from work already wearing a suit.

I picked up Gabe and Zeke from school at 3:15pm, watched the Field Hockey game at 4:30pm, drove to the high school for us all to get changed and meet Dale, watched Abby’s induction starting at 6:30pm, observed Josiah’s arrival (after he showered off the mud) at 7pm, ate out for a family celebratory dinner at 8pm… Zeke was put to bed at 11pm that evening.

Dale informed us all that he was inducted into the National Honor Society covered in mud and smelling like dead fish having arrived straight from an Orienteering meet that took place on the same day. Thankfully, Abby and Josiah showered and let go of the Manry tradition of being covered in mud and smelling like dead fish during the NHS induction ceremony.

I had been pushing my luck for weeks and amidst all the scrambling from here to there and back again, I knew brain exhaustion would inevitably set in and something would be forgotten.

Often my brain tries to give me hints that I am forgetting something, but I am too tired to think it through. At the end of the women’s retreat, I could not think straight. As I was packing the van, I looked at the side box and thought “I packed something in there that I didn’t want to break when I drove down.” Unfortunately, the thought went no further. After returning from the retreat, dropping everyone off at their homes, and stopping to pick up dinner, I unloaded the van. When the van was empty, Zeke ran upstairs from the basement and said, “Mom, you forgot the Wii.”

I had brought the Wii to the retreat and had slid it inside the t.v. cabinet at the cottage to protect it and left it there. It was now 6pm Sunday evening. The retreat location was 1 1/2 hours away outside of Williamsburg. I texted Robyn, “I forgot the Wii.” She texted back, “WHAT???!!!” Not wanting to go back the next morning after I dropped the kids at school, I knew I had to go immediately back and try to find someone to let us in. I called and left messages at the place. Robyn call stalked the place, making 100 calls to them in 30 minutes. I prayed they would eventually answer the phone and I started driving. I picked up Robyn (who was concerned that maybe it wasn’t a good idea for me to be on the road) on the way. Thankfully, the place called back and the woman committed to meet us when we arrived.

We met up with the woman from the retreat center and she explained that the phones weren’t working properly. Robyn apologized for her call stalking, and we put the Wii in the car. By this time, I was completely wiped out and Robyn offered to drive home. We both swear we took the entrance ramp for I64 west, but 40 minutes later Robyn said “this doesn’t look right.” I awoke from my stupor to realize we were in Hampton on the outskirts of Norfolk. There are a few plausible explanations for this situation: God blinded our eyes from going the correct way for reasons known only to Him, our subconscious minds took over in an act of rebellion because we really wanted to go to the beach for the retreat, or we were both completely exhausted.

I called Dale and let him know that we needed to stop for gas and we both thought Hampton would be the best place to stop.

After nearly 3 hours of driving a distance that should have taken 1 1/2 hours, I dropped Robyn at her place and thought “just 30 more minutes and I’ll be home.” Ten minutes later, I got stuck on I95 in construction traffic. It took me 30 minutes to drive 3 miles. I arrived home at 11pm, having spent 7 1/2 hours in my car going here, there, and back again, and collapsed on my bed in exhaustion.

Only one thought gave me peace: “Zeke has the Wii back just in time for baseball practice.”

Two weekends ago, my fellow laborers and I helped our fearless leader run a women’s retreat for our church. I am now mostly recovered. The retreat consisted of good teaching, encouraging prayer, fun fellowship, and a lot of laughs. Many of the laughs were provided by my fellow laborer, the Robyn. (My own life experience has convinced me that all Robins/Robyns were created to make people laugh.)

The Robyn has the uncanny ability to accidentally text or speak something incorrectly which results in a hilarious misspeak. As we were preparing to drive to the retreat, I texted Robyn to ask who was driving down with her. She texted back, “my sisters and the pastors wide.” I then threatened her that I was going to tell the pastor’s wife that Robyn had called her the pastor’s wide. This mistext may prove invaluable for multiple situations as Josiah pointed out to me that it could further be read as an insult to the pastor.

The Robyn’s next most hilarious misspeak happened while she was driving down to the retreat with her sister’s and the pastor’s wife. I blame some of what happened on the bizarre snacks their father had bought for them to eat on the way down (chocolate peanut butter bugles, beef jerky, fruit by the foot, banana chips) Robyn was attempting to say that we would be staying at the Holly Cottage for the retreat, but instead said “We’re staying at the Hottie College.”

Our retreat location was instantly renamed.