Singing the blues for back to school

The back-to-school scene just isn't the same after your kids have graduated from high school.

Instead of doling out hundreds of dollars for new clothes and notebook paper, we dole out money for college tuition, but it's not hundreds of dollars, it's thousands. And shopping for laptops and warehouse-sized portions of peanut butter and pancake mix isn't as much fun as searching for that perfect first-day-of-school outfit.

I miss those elementary-school years when my daughters would stage "style shows" of their new school clothes, prancing around the house, modeling and posing like supermodels.

Some parents can't wait to ship their offspring off to college, but I'm not one of them. I ran into an acquaintance the other day who was lamenting the fact that her twin boys had chosen the local community college to begin their post-secondary education.

She told me about another parent who drew a circle with a 500-mile radius around where they lived and told their child to pick a college outside that area. That seemed like a great idea to her. No separation anxiety in those households.

Me, I'm a little more sappy when it comes to empty-nest syndrome. I want to keep my kids around as long as possible because I enjoy their company. They're witty and engaging and a lot of fun to be around. And I miss them when they're gone.

Our youngest daughter will attend Flathead Valley Community College, so I've staved off empty-nest syndrome for awhile. Our oldest daughter headed to Missoula this weekend for her junior year at the University of Montana, and even though it's only two hours away, we don't see her that often once the school year starts.

Instead of dwelling on her absence, I decided to make a list of things I won't miss once our house is truly an empty nest. Here's what I came up with:

-A messy bathroom. This morning I counted 41 bottles and tubes of various hair- and skin-care products in "their" bathroom - potions such as glazing gel, skin-smoothing moisturizer, triple-moisture healing-shine serum, Paris Hilton bath and shower gel and something called silk therapy. It's a boatload of beauty products, all sitting on the sink counter or bath-tub ledges. It doesn't include the drawers and a cupboard full of additional beautification devices and products, or the life-threatening tangle of blow dryers and electric curling irons and hair straighteners that one has to negotiate just to get in the bathroom.

-End tables that have become makeshift manicure tables. I can't count the times I've come home to find bottles and bottles of nail polish, cotton balls and manicure tools spread out in the living room. "Yeah, I was going to put those away a little later," is the usual response.

-A dirty blender. In this age of liquid nutrition, there is almost always the remains of yet another yogurt and fruit smoothie languishing in a dirty blender in the kitchen sink.

-Laundry. Would it kill them to wash a load of towels now and then? Apparently they think it would.

-Bobby pins and earrings on the floor. At some point these items replaced those tiny plastic Barbie shoes as the things to watch for when vacuuming.

So there you have it. The house will be clean and the laundry at a manageable level once the kids are gone for good. But I know there will come a day when I'll be longing for a bathroom filled with 41 bottles of beauty care.

Features editor Lynnette Hintze may be reached at 758-4421 or by e-mail at lhintze@dailyinterlake.com