Wait a minute. What is this, 2007? No, it isn't and yet I'm starting to have that same heartache I was experiencing two summers ago when I was first preparing to send my youngest daughter off to college.
College. It's the first major break in the parent/child connection and unless you have a graduate who moves back home and refuses to budge, the first of the final steps out the door. And I only rarely meet a parent who doesn't feel a yank on the heartstrings as they start to pack up their spawn for the move.
That was me two years ago. I was, officially, a basketcase. You can ask anyone who knows me and even people who don't. I couldn't stop repeating it "my daughter's starting college in September" as if saying it to my family, my friends, women standing behind me in line at KMart or even all alone in the house, would make it real, normal. But even though it's totally and really normal, the natural progression of having babies and knowing their destiny is to grow up and move on, it can't help but break your heart.
The good news is that I adjusted within the first few weeks, stopped planning my day around school and after-school activities, stopped worrying about what I'd make for dinner, stopped having to pick up the trail of the teen... And I learned to appreciate the upside of the empty nest; less cooking, less cleaning and way more free time. I was going to be okay.
But here it is, 2009, and I feel like I'm back at square one. Catherine's going to Ireland for her fall semester and I'm running into a wall of emotion. What???
I guess this is the next step. Two years of driving her up to Massachusetts and kissing her goodbye. Now I'll be taking her to JFK and watching her fly off thousands of miles away for the next four months. I tell myself that she'll be back before I know it. We'll get webcams and Skype and then I'll see her just as much as I do now as she comes and goes in the spin of her summer social swirl.
But I bought her Aer Lingus ticket the other day and it triggered an onslaught of stress and sadness- which doesn't even have anything to do with the money this is costing.
I have to get a grip. I have to beat down this wall of sadness, this sometimes overwhelming tidal wave of melancholy washing over me. I have to look on the bright side. She'll go off on her big international adventure and I'll say goodbye to the kitchen and the vacuum cleaner... She'll take another giant step toward her ultimate independence and I'll have more time to curl up on the couch with a book or Project Runway reruns. If I can focus on that, if I can add a Hostess cupcake and a cold glass of milk to that picture, if I can just remember that I was okay before, I'll be okay again.
Ever read the book "The Prophet"? There was a passage, "Your children are not your children..." The concept that they come through you but not for you, slayed me and stayed with me. Even as I was laying in wait for the first time I'd hold my baby in my arms, I knew it was true that I would raise my children to leave. I guess seeing her pack for Ireland should make me feel like I did my job well.
So here I am, working at focusing on how proud I am of her nerve and independence while trying to tamp down the free-floating anxiety of separation. In one hand, I'm a proud mom waving goodbye, in the other hand I've got the Kleenex.
Friday, July 31, 2009
Sunday, June 21, 2009
They’re setting up the tent and wheeling out stacks of chairs over at the football field at Riverhead High School. Just a week to go before the graduation ceremony of the Class of 2009.
That makes it just six-days shy of two-years past watching Catherine, in the long line of her capped and gowned fellow grads, parading across the field en route to her next chapter.
As I drove past the field this week, it triggered that memory as well as the following year, this time both of us watching her best friend Allyson lead the parade, take the podium and charm the crowd as Valedictorian.
This year, I have no reason to attend. And only the sense memory of the Big Day 2007 to contend with.
I do want to say, for the record, and for anyone who's panicking at the prospect of packing up their child and sending 'em off to that first chapter in their independent lives… it gets better. I wouldn’t have believed anyone at the time I was facing the fear of letting go, but for what it’s worth, it’s true. You make the adjustments, you begin your own new life and you adapt.
I had to break the habit of watching the clock. I had to adjust to afternoons coming and going without having to pick up or drop off. I found a way to handle the empty seat at the table (eating from a TV tray is a lovely option). And oddly, as long as we were checking in with text messages, notes on Facebook or even the occasional phone call, I managed the transition to my new part-time status pretty well. Plus there are those hidden benefits. Less laundry, no more having to remind them to pick up and/or put away whatever, smaller food and electric bills (not to mention the energy you save not nagging them about turning off the lights when they leave thier room). And then there's free time and that's pretty fabulous!
Just when I thought I had it all handled beautifully, I'm blindsided by a new plan. This fall, Catherine heads into her third college year. And this fall, she’s going way beyond her Massachusetts campus (a ferry ride and 90 minutes from home). This time, Catherine is going to Ireland, realizing a long held dream of studying abroad.
How will I ever handle it?
I have it all figured out. We'll stay up-to-date on Facebook and, in lieu of the cell and texting, we’ll frequent Skype (www.Skype.com) for free Trans-Atlantic phone calls! Plus, I’ve got the TV tray ready. And I’m thinking that if I leave the stereo and all the lights on in her room… and leave a couple of towels and some dirty laundry trailing down the stairs… maybe I can just pretend she’s really still here. Or I can turn it all off, clean it all up and appreciate the yin and yang of being a parent.
That makes it just six-days shy of two-years past watching Catherine, in the long line of her capped and gowned fellow grads, parading across the field en route to her next chapter.
As I drove past the field this week, it triggered that memory as well as the following year, this time both of us watching her best friend Allyson lead the parade, take the podium and charm the crowd as Valedictorian.
This year, I have no reason to attend. And only the sense memory of the Big Day 2007 to contend with.
I do want to say, for the record, and for anyone who's panicking at the prospect of packing up their child and sending 'em off to that first chapter in their independent lives… it gets better. I wouldn’t have believed anyone at the time I was facing the fear of letting go, but for what it’s worth, it’s true. You make the adjustments, you begin your own new life and you adapt.
I had to break the habit of watching the clock. I had to adjust to afternoons coming and going without having to pick up or drop off. I found a way to handle the empty seat at the table (eating from a TV tray is a lovely option). And oddly, as long as we were checking in with text messages, notes on Facebook or even the occasional phone call, I managed the transition to my new part-time status pretty well. Plus there are those hidden benefits. Less laundry, no more having to remind them to pick up and/or put away whatever, smaller food and electric bills (not to mention the energy you save not nagging them about turning off the lights when they leave thier room). And then there's free time and that's pretty fabulous!
Just when I thought I had it all handled beautifully, I'm blindsided by a new plan. This fall, Catherine heads into her third college year. And this fall, she’s going way beyond her Massachusetts campus (a ferry ride and 90 minutes from home). This time, Catherine is going to Ireland, realizing a long held dream of studying abroad.
How will I ever handle it?
I have it all figured out. We'll stay up-to-date on Facebook and, in lieu of the cell and texting, we’ll frequent Skype (www.Skype.com) for free Trans-Atlantic phone calls! Plus, I’ve got the TV tray ready. And I’m thinking that if I leave the stereo and all the lights on in her room… and leave a couple of towels and some dirty laundry trailing down the stairs… maybe I can just pretend she’s really still here. Or I can turn it all off, clean it all up and appreciate the yin and yang of being a parent.
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