>When La Petite was a freshman, I bought the commercial Welcome Pack and various holiday gift packages. I’m sure I supported someone’s fundraising, and my daughter enjoyed getting treats now and then.
Her sophomore year, I did the same.
Now she doesn’t live in a dorm, but in a near-campus apartment, so I skipped it. She says she’s okay with that, so why do I feel a small bit of motherly guilt?
I haven’t made the old-fashioned cookie packages like the ones my mom sent me.
I haven’t packaged up a batch of goodies when MidTerms rolled around.
But I haven’t failed. Oh, I may be different, but I haven’t failed her completely.
For one, I send her links. Where my mother would mail little items (including comics!) that she’d clipped from the paper, I send my daughter URLs for relevant articles and blog posts, even shopping deals. We could chalk that up to the change in technology. We email, chat by IM, and text message each other, too.
I set things aside for her. I put her Girl Scout cookies in her bedroom so we wouldn’t be tempted to eat them in a PMS inspired fit. Did I say we? I meant me. I mean I. I mean…did I say something about chocolate?!
When we found out she and her roomie had lost the remote control for their TV, we found an unused universal remote and mailed it down to her, along with batteries. I suggested chocolate, but Husband “forgot” to throw the candy in the package at the last minute.
The last time we visited, we brought a bag of groceries that included bunny food, Mountain Dew, batteries for the remote control (see above) and a big box of trash bags. And a chair! We brought her a chair! Don’t laugh — it was taking up space in the garage, and Husband wasn’t ready to give it up for good just yet.
Last, but not least, I send her free samples. Yes, free samples. Whenever I see an opportunity to get a freebie, I send one to her, too. When she gets a package of something random like a granola bar or the new flavor of Chex Mix, she knows it’s from me. I even hooked her up with a free test sample of a new dishwashing liquid, and now she’s set for dishes for the remainder of the semester, if not the year.
No, these aren’t romantic or fancy. They’re silly little surprises that turn up in her mailbox at unexpected times. They make her smile and let her know I’m thinking about her now and then. In her own sarcastic way, she’d say, “I feel special”– but I know that sometimes, just sometimes, she really does.