Dear Parents of College Freshmen:
It's going to be OK.
You are going to be OK, even though your heart feels as if it's a metronome, swinging back and forth between pride at what your child has accomplished and heartache that your house will be emptier in a few days.
Enjoy those moments of pride. You have every right to be proud of their achievements thus far in life. People talk about how hard your kids have worked; you worked hard right beside them, teaching, helping, encouraging, redirecting, praising, scolding, loving them through the thick and the thin. There were late nights and early mornings, making lunches and driving them to practice, editing papers and re-gluing projects, scrambling to find their band shirt (under the bed, where they swear they looked five times already) and getting it washed and dried, just in time to meet the bus. The pride you felt when the first, or even only, acceptance letter came - remember that. Those are a measure of your parenting. Don't misunderstand: just because your kid didn't get into Harvard doesn't mean you aren't a successful parent. I mean, they got into college because you helped them get there, alternating between pushing, pulling and praising as applications, FASFA, personality profiles, and other mountains of paperwork were completed for each school. You were part of that, too.
Then there are the moments of heartache. If you are honest, those are selfish - they are more about you than your kid, and that's OK, too. After all, he is your son; she is your daughter. They have been part of your life since before they were born. You watched them go from a 7 pound bundle of helplessness that needed you for every little thing to being an 18 year old that knows it all, slowly pushing you aside in a show of bravado and independence. There are so many memories that sometimes it's as if you're about to be overwhelmed by emotion. There's the old swing in the back yard where you pushed her in the evenings when she was six, and in the front yard, there's the bent mailbox she hit when backing down the driveway when she was sixteen. There's a picture on the wall of him in his Little League uniform and there's a picture on the refrigerator of him with his girlfriend at the graduation party. Everywhere you turn, there is a memory, a story, and your throat gets tight and your eyes burn and your thoughts get cloudy.
It's OK. It's OK to be proud. It's OK to be sad. It's OK to even be confused, not quite sure what you're feeling.
In my experience, it was worse for me when our first kiddo left home. She was young, not even 18. We had, for better or worse, sheltered her as best as we could. She was going to a major university 800 miles away. I was convinced she wasn't ready for it, but in reality, I wasn't ready. I was convinced I hadn't prepared her enough for life, but - unbeknownst to me - she had picked up our values, our morals, our ethic, our faith and was more ready than I realized.
Too, I think it is harder on the dads than the moms - not that moms hurt less, but because dads are expected to be the macho, tough guys. Speaking for myself, I received very little sympathy from dads whose kids had already gone off to school. Most were full of braggadocio and bravado about how they now had a spare room for a man cave, or how they didn't have to wait up for their kid, or whatever other line of BS they were selling as fertilizer. Mothers talked and listened with my wife and they shared deeply. So, dads - let me encourage you, if you are having raw, hard feelings about your kids leaving home, value those feelings. Honor them and, regardless what your friends might say, treat your thoughts, joys and hurts as true. Find another friend, co-worker, church member, or neighbor who gets it and commiserates together.
It'll be OK. It'll be OK when you drop them off and leave. It'll be OK when you get home. It'll be OK when she calls home, homesick. It'll be OK when he calls home, heartbroken, telling you to take that picture with his girlfriend and throw it away because they just broke up. It'll be OK when they send you a text asking for money in their bank account because, oops, they ordered too much GrubHub. It'll be OK when they send you an emailed copy of the letter from the Dean's office, commending them for helping save a kid who was choking in the cafeteria. It'll be OK when they come home for fall break, and it'll even be OK when they have to leave again when the break is over.
In between the black and white of "Great" and "Aweful" is a whole lot of OK. It's OK to be in that grey right now. It's even OK to have some moments that are darker or lighter than others. It's OK to want to hug your kid and never let them go. And, it's OK to want to propel them down the street with a size 13 boot. It's OK to wish they stay home one more year and it's OK to wish them greater and better success than you have ever experienced.
And, when your son, your daughter, in a moment of tenderness stops and tells you his joys or her fears, give them a great big hug and tell them...tell them that you understand and, yes, it will be OK.
Then, be OK together.
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