You will make many changes before setting satisfactorily.

My children are now 19 and 21 years old. As my dad would say, old enough to eat hay and poop in the street. (My dad has always had a way with words.) A few months ago, or maybe it was only a month ago, but it seems like a year ago, the oldest moved back home after a break-up with his fiancé. The youngest really has exercised that teenage rite/right to see just how close he can push me to the edge and watch me teeter. One would think they'd be pooping in someone else's street by now, but they're both under our roof.

These changes and trials prompted me to drop the classes I was taking this semester. Sometimes, something's gotta give. There wasn't enough coffee, margaritas, or Xanax to help me cope. I asked myself what was most important to me, and for a refreshing change of pace, sanity won out.

The Devil Drove a Station Wagon will at some point reach completion. I figured since I have this extra time on my hands, I would test the self-publishing waters with a compilation sort of volume of my old columns. I wrote "Off-Kelter" for ten years, so there's a lot of material from which to select. Besides, who doesn't love a compilation? Ronco and K-Tel come to mind.

....I paused to laugh when I commented that I have extra time on my hands. That's not exactly a truth. When the oldest returned, dive bombing the nest I assumed would be empty by this fall, two dogs accompanied him. Only one is an inside dog - an eight month old Bassett Hound. The other is a Blue Tick coon dog that reached retirement before his career ever started (he'd obviously been abused when he was given to the kid, and because we're basically a family of bleeding hearts, he opted to keep him as an outside pet). Regardless, a 21 year old and two more dogs has zapped the time I'd spent on my studies....

It's not the first time this whole motherhood thing has left me befuddled and feeling deceived. I've anticipated those changes that come out of nowhere that go with the territory. But, really, I cross my fingers and eyes that the youngest will graduate this May. I'm still hoping he passes all his classes and gets the credits needed. He's met with the Navy recruiter several times, and if all goes as plans (Nothing ever goes as planned, it's a hell of a notion, I know), he will go off to Basic this fall. And, if that all happened as planned, my humble abode would be kid-free. Instead, sometimes they come back. Just like in a Stephen King tale.

Strangely enough, I know to some people the idea that I'd looked forward to the kids out on their own makes no sense. I've actually met a few of those mothers who've crafted apron strings out of 100 mph tape. I find this peculiar because I think Mother Nature, in some ways, equips mothers with the strength to watch children fly free and solo. No joke. I've heard a few mothers say they were more than ready for their children to make their way in this world on their own. I can only guess it's loosely based on hormones. Sort of like those that make you lament, "I want another baby," when the first baby approaches a year old, walking and crawling and not being so needy. Instead, as the kids and I have both gotten older, it's more like, "Oh hell, I don't know if I'll even be able to someday tolerate grandkids. Everybody out!"

Observations as such have caught me a lot of crap through the years. A good mother doesn't say things like that. A good mother doesn't think things like that. Well, I tend to believe a mother doesn't say or think things that might be perceived as "bad mom." I've also learned a good mom isn't so willing to admit that sometimes her kid isn't only bad, but plain rotten. That's one head scratcher that I doubt I'll ever understand. Parenting must be one of those universal experiences, but so few are willing to share the nitty gritty.

The columns I wrote spanned a time period when my kids were eight and ten to the time they were eighteen and twenty. Reading through these, I have to wonder how I survived some of those years. I offer up an apology if I ever implied to anyone that parenting becomes less of a challenge. I can't say that it ever gets any easier; perhaps, the challenges merely change.

I've never excelled at accepting change. Sure, if it's on my own terms, it's all good. My fortune cookie at the Chinese restaurant over the weekend read, "You will make many changes before setting satisfactorily." Yeah, that's an understatement. For the past week, I've cut and pasted and coped, rearranged, formatted, and sighed while looking for the perfect combination of columns to offer up to would-be readers.

So, yes, this next project, A Little Off-Kelter, is in the works. Likely, I'll go the electronic route only. I'm not entirely sure. Funny something like a book cover for a print edition is what makes me lean that direction. It's definitely easier to slap up one .jpg for electronic format without the worry of creating an entire jacket. We'll see. For now, I'm going to roll with the changes and try to get rid of some of this moss because a watched pot never boils if you're counting your chickens before they hatch. (Maybe this way with words runs in the family.)

I've created a fan page on Facebook here: http://www.facebook.com/pages/Kelly-Coleman-Potter/212737235506584 , if you're inclined to click like. Share with your friends and I'll be eternally grateful.