We're enjoying having a college kid in the family again

Jack on his first day of college

The recent birth of our grandson has somewhat overshadowed another significant family milestone, which is the fact that our youngest son, Jack, started college a couple of weeks ago.

Jack is a freshman data science major at Cleveland State University. He's a little older than the typical freshman at 19 1/2, the result of a two-year process of trying to figure out exactly what he wanted to do in life.

Lots of young people go through the same extended period of self-reflection that Jack did, and I'm surprised it's not even more common. Asking 17- and 18-year-olds to pinpoint exactly what career path they're going to follow is a tall order, especially in a world that changes as rapidly as ours.

Since graduating high school in 2023, Jack has had a brief fling with community college, considered a career in the trades, and worked full time for nearly a year cleaning cages in an animal research laboratory.

Eventually he came to Terry and me and said he thought it would be best to go to college and earn a bachelor's degree of some sort. He is interested in statistics and data analysis – a field that will surely be reshaped by the emergence of artificial intelligence – so data science it is.

Starting in 2012 when Elissa began her own four-year journey at Cleveland State, we had a kid or kids in college continuously for 11 years. For me as Dad, it was a blur of FAFSA forms, dorm move-ins, and essays to edit.

Now, after a two-year break, I'm excited to get back into that world.

Like me so many years ago, Jack is a college commuter. He lives at home and drives downtown five days a week to attend class. There are advantages to doing that (particularly financial ones), but it can also mean being somewhat disengaged from school activities outside of the classroom.

I made an effort to be involved in the band and the school newspaper when I was at John Carroll University, at least until the demands of a nearly full-time work schedule at The News-Herald made those extracurriculars impossible. Jack has talked about joining the CSU pep band, and I hope he does. It would be good for him.

You know, becoming a grandparent can make you feel old. But I'm finding that once again having a college kid in the family balances that out. It makes Terry and I realize we're still very much in our primes.

Good luck to Jack, and go Vikings!

Did I suggest that my son should commute to college because I thought it would be best for him, or because I don't want to move yet another futon into another dorm room?

Recently Terry accompanied our youngest child, Jack, to his orientation session at Cleveland State University. I've been to a couple of these orientations, and I've always found them to be at least somewhat fun and exciting for both parents and the freshmen-to-be.

As Jack gets ready to go back to the classroom after a two-year absence, he texted us a few weeks ago asking whether he should consider living on CSU's campus in Downtown Cleveland, rather than commute five days a week.

We've had three other kids live in dorms and/or off-campus housing near Cleveland State, so it certainly wasn't an unreasonable request.

Terry and I both, however, counseled Jack that, for him, it's probably best to commute for at least a year and get used to being in college before diving into the on-campus experience.

There's also the matter of student loan debt, which would rise considerably for him if he chose to live in a dorm (what with the cost of housing, food, etc.)

Jack wisely agreed with us, but then I reflected on the true motivation for the advice I had given.

On one hand, yes, I do think this is the best approach for Jack. I really do.

On the other hand, I have helped four of our children move into dorm rooms and apartments, none of which ever seemed to be on the ground floor but involved endlessly waiting for a single elevator that five dozen other students and their parents were trying to use.

It's a tiring process that involves lugging heavy bins and boxes of clothes, bedding and other dorm room accoutrements.

And I'll admit: While I strength train every week, it was one thing doing all of that in my 30s and even 40s. It's a somewhat different thing to do it in my mid-50s.

Oh, I can do it. I'll manage. It's not so much the actual moving as it is the prolonged recovery from moving that will inevitably follow.

Because, you see, that's what I notice about being this particular age: I can still do almost everything I've ever done, but if it's at all strenuous, my body (which used to bounce back in hours) will let me know about it for a solid day or two afterward.

I'll move your couch up the stairs, sure. I'm just desperately hoping you won't ask me to move the love seat, too.

In the end, I'm confident that what I told Jack came from the right place.

But if he decides to stay on-campus in future years, I'm requesting that a case of ibuprofen be kept close by at all times.

One day there will be no more kids in our house, and I have a hard time being excited about that

This year we sent one kid off to live on a college campus (Chloe), while another moved back in after spending three years living on a college campus (Elissa).

I was so happy that Elissa came back because, honestly, I missed having her around. But now I miss having Chloe around, and it makes me realize that eventually there will be no trades. They'll just all leave the nest one by one, and nobody will return to take their place.

It's a mixed blessing, I guess. Some days you come home to a messy house full of chaos and noise and you think you can't wait until they all grow up and live somewhere else.

Other days you come home and they're all out with their friends or at school or something, and you realize how oppressively quiet it is. It doesn't seem right.

And so I can't decide whether I'm looking forward to the day they all leave, dreading that day, or whether it's a little bit of both.

For two decades, there have been kids in our house. If all goes according to plan, that will continue to be the case for another decade more.

Beyond that there's...well, I can't quite envision what's there. It will just be us. Just Terry and me. And while I love the thought of being with just her, I realize the cost will be having to readjust to a home where no one is asking me for a few dollars out of my wallet, or to borrow the car, or for me to sign a permission slip she misplaced and she needs for a field trip tomorrow.

And that just seems so lonely.

The college experience affords parents a foretaste of what's to come in their lives, and thus it gives you chunks of time to adjust to the inevitable.

It's just that, for all the hassles and frustrations that come with living with six other people, it's really all I know at this point. And so I guess what I'm afraid of is the unknown.

Still, the fact is, it's going to happen whether I'm ready for it or not. So I might as well be ready for it. And I might as well enjoy what I have now, knowing there will still be days when I just can't bring myself to clean up one more mess in the kitchen that one of my offspring created.

I also know that some day, I'll do anything for one more of those messes to clean up.

As we've said before, c'est la vie, my friends, c'est la vie.

Should you have another child? Here's my advice.

No.

Haha, just kidding! Sort of!

So I have five children, all of whom are wonderful and a joy and a constant source of pride and all of that, and all of whom also occasionally frustrate me to the brink of homicide.

Right? You parents know what I'm talking about. Most of the time they're awesome. One of the best things that ever happened to you. Other times you want to strangle them.

That's the dichotomy of parenting: Deep, intense love intermingled with periodic criminal rage.

"I just love you so much. You're so wonderful and the best daughter anyone could ask for and...wait, did you just leave your granola bar wrapper on the floor again? YES, YOU DID. PICK IT UP. PICK IT UP NOW! HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO TELL YOU NOT TO DO THAT? WHY ARE YOU SO BRAIN DAMAGED?!? PICK IT UP NOW! NOW! NOW!"

And so on.

Single-kid parents sometimes worry that they could never love a second child as much as they do their ever-so-perfect first one. Which is wrong. If you have a second child (or a third child, or a fourth child...), your capacity for love will grow proportionately. I don't know how it works, but it does.

So don't worry about that part of it. Worry about the bills. I know that's a Dad Thing to Say, but seriously, multiple kids means multiple expenses.

Like car insurance. If you have a toddler, the last thing on your mind is car insurance. But trust me, it will be an issue for you one day very soon.

Car insurance is expensive no matter who you are. But try getting coverage for a 16-year-old boy. Or an 18-year-old girl who has had a couple of accidents. Your premiums will have more digits than you even knew existed.

"Make the kids pay for the insurance themselves," you say. Which I would do if they didn't have to go to school and instead had 30-40 hours a week available to work and earn the requisite cash.

So there's that. And college. There's college. Presumably you'll want your children to pursue some form of post-secondary education. As you may have heard, college is a wee bit expensive.

As are clothes, food, housing, and everything else the law (for whatever reason) requires you to provide for your children.

You need to take that stuff into account.

Another important factor? Your age. People are different, and we all have different levels of energy. But as you may have figured out from your first kid or two, having a baby is exhausting. Doing it in your 20's or even your early to mid-30's is a whole lot different from doing it in your late 30's or 40's.

If you're pushing middle age – or if you're already there – you need to consider what having a baby will do to you. Even a baby that sleeps through the night the day you bring it home from the hospital. Babies in general sap a lot of energy from their parents. If you're cool with that, OK. I just want to make sure you're aware.

One last thing: If you decide to venture into large family territory, which I define as four kids or more, then understand that people will look at you funny. They'll assume you're Mormon or Evangelical or angling to get your own reality TV show or something. They'll say things to you like, "You know what causes that, right?" (NOTE: The correct reply to that is, "Yes, but look at me. My wife can't resist me, and if I'm being honest, neither can yours.")

As a father of what nowadays passes for a large family, I can tell you that you will become a borderline outcast from society. Few people will want to have you over their house for fear that your family will wreck the place, which they most likely will. They'll make assumptions about you and your motivations and the amount of time you're able to spend with your children.

Ignore them. You need to save your energy for walking around the house picking up discarded granola bar wrappers anyway.

Here, please take my life savings

My daughter Elissa is a senior in high school. That means we have been in full-bore College Search Mode for the past several months. This being the first time I've gone through it, I've learned three things from the experience:

(1) It doesn't take long to get past the "sticker shock" of college, so nothing phases me anymore when I see how much it costs. I haven't yet written a single check, but I'm already jaded by the insane numbers. That's not good.

(2) All college tours are the same. Seriously. They're all given by a female junior or senior student who will tell you that choosing to attend this particular university "was the best decision of my life" (You're 20 years old. How many great decisions could you have made by now?) You will see the same things on every tour: the library, the newly refurbished rec center (ALL rec centers are newly refurbished), a freshman dorm room, the science building, the cool statue at the center of campus, the quad, etc.

(3) As near as I can tell, all college students appear to be 15 years older than my daughter, but 50 years younger than me.

Being Daddy Breadwinner, it is point #1 that concerns me most. You've no doubt heard that college is a wee bit expensive nowadays. Maybe you have a college student or two in your family now. If so, you know that the easiest thing to do is simply to give the college or university that your child selects large piles of money on a regular basis and hope they're satisfied. No need to count it, just cart wheelbarrows of cash over to the financial office and give it to the first university employee you see.

That's my strategy, at least. The thing is, Elissa is smart. She's going to get scholarships. And being a single-income family, I know we're probably in line for some need-based aid, as well. But it won't be enough. It's NEVER enough, even at state schools.

The college financial aid people have come up with something called the Expected Family Contribution. This, as you might imagine, is the amount they think you can reasonably be expected to contribute to your child's education. It is derived using a complex formula that takes into account several relevant factors, yet still manages to yield a number at which you will laugh.

Really. You'll see your Expected Family Contribution and you'll literally LOL. Then you'll say to the grim-faced financial aid person, "No, seriously, what's my number?" They will repeat the same figure. You will again laugh. Then you will realize they are serious, and you will cry. This is how the game is played. Generations of parents have done it before you, and generations will do it after. Your job is just to roll with it.

Of course, Elissa will have to take on some hefty student loans and will also be involved in a work-study program, no doubt. But two of the schools to which she has applied -- the University of Dayton and the College of Wooster -- charge in excess of $40,000 a year for undergrads. Even one of her state schools (Miami of Ohio) is in the $20K range. And this is in no way considered excessive.

The private schools, I'm told, generally have a lot of financial aid they're willing to give out, which is good. But unless they're willing to cover somewhere around 99.5% of Elissa's college costs, there's going to have to be some belt-tightening around our house.

I realize there are lower-cost options, such as community college and some value-oriented four-year schools. And we may end up going that route. But the College Propaganda Industry is very good at making you believe that, should your child choose one of these discount schools, they will never get a good job and will live under a bridge for the rest of their lives. I'm just stupid enough to believe this.

And the thing is, I've got five kids to get through college. It's not like we can make some sacrifices for a few years and then be done with it once Elissa graduates. Jack is on target to get his undergrad degree in 2028 (twenty twenty-eight, as most of you would apparently call it). If there's one thing I learned at John Carroll University, it's how to subtract. And according to my calculations, we have 16 solid years of this to go through.

That makes my head hurt. It makes my soul hurt. But I figure if I manage to hold down three jobs and a paper route, it should all be OK.