Children can be such a disappointment.

From the moment a child is born the parents and particularly the mother can cease to exist in their own right.  If you are unlucky enough to be the last of your friends to have a baby, any conversation with your friends that doesn't revolve around their children, nappies, sleep, food or washing becomes impossible.  Women often put their own dreams and aspirations on hold for the sake of their children and their can be some transference.

In our recent University visits we've met many aspirational parents.
"Oh, I couldn't consider anything less than a Russel Group."
"You see, I went to York.  It's important to go to a good University."
"I'm only a dinner lady but I've got loads of common sense.  My girl will be the first in the family to go to University.  I would have liked to have gone and studied art but I had to get a job."
There's nothing wrong with any of this, providing that you remember that it's not your decision to make.
You see the eye rolling of the teenagers as their mum says, "You can't live here, this kitchen is disgusting. You'll need an en-suite," and their Dad says, "I would chose this one. They've got great industry links.  This is where you'll go."

I have tried.  Honestly, I've tried really hard not to influence my son's decision, which can be easy.  I usually know what he's thinking and we mostly agree. I knew he was on a roller coaster of emotions on this visit; vascillating more than a politician.

Sitting in the Maths common room the earnest looking chap asked, "So, have you had a good day?"
"Oh, yes.  I have."
The Long Suffering Husband kicked me under the table.
"No, really.  I have.  I think he should come here."
The young man beamed at my validation of his University.  I had made up up my mind and even though the signs were there I chose to ignore them.  I took absolutely no notice when the lad told us that student life was a triangle of study, sleep and socialising but at this University you could only pick two.  From the look of him, he'd chosen to give sleep a miss. I hadn't been at the maths talk but I should have spotted the signs when the LSH texted me - "Take your time, you're not missing much. There's maths in that."

I had spent a very pleasant couple of hours having lunch with my friend from University.  We talked about our children (of course), had a bit of a grumpy old woman rant, discussed our parents' health and the old days.  BC.  Before children, when we had our own lives and futures, when we spent the evening goat dancing or climbing the steps/slope back from the bar to our halls.

Quick coffees and lunches could become an easy habit on those visits where you try not to clean the communal kitchen and go to the supermarket to buy big bags of pasta.

In the car on the way home a voice piped up from the back.

"I'm thinking No."

"Really?  It's a very good University."

"Yeah, I know.  Russel group."

"Well then."

"I didn't really like the people."

"There wasn't anything wrong with them."

"Hmmmmmm.  That's what you think."

"Oh, you're such a disappointment."