I have prided myself in being the mother who has been cutting the cord since my children were born. Then why does it hurt so much to set them free at college? I never thought of myself as controlling or suffocating mother, but I am beginning to take a second look.
As I held the first great-grand child in my husband's family and watched her struggle to stand and crawl at our lake house, I could not help but wonder where did the years go? My oldest left for college just a few years back and my middle son is about to head off to a local university. I thought I would be over this quivering feeling that overcomes me when I realize the house is going to be exceedingly quiet in just weeks. I believe our children are on loan to us to direct and nurture until they are strong enough to stand. It is just the letting go that has been harder than I was ready to face.
College Orientation
My husband and I attended orientation with my son who is headed for college as we speak. I have never been through anything so frustrating in some time. There were a minimum of a thousand people at our orientation gathering which they broke up into multiple weekends so every freshman could attend. The campus was so large they have their own transit system. There was not "parking" and driving because the parking police make parking a federal offense. I wanting to follow the rules would never have attempted crossing the line. Could it be that my eldest son's 75 dollar ticket last year while hanging out at that university hit home? YOU LISTEN TO THE SIGNS here...or else! So, we got on the university bus and held on to the arm sling that kept your bodies from falling into those who were blessed with seats. The southern late June weather provided further angst as beads of sweat dripped down our backs. When his engineering director told us there were going to be more than a thousand new freshman engineering majors, I began to question the need to tell the professors our names and what to expect from our son. We were to write a synopsis on the greatness of our son. Oh my, where to begin. This synopsis must stand out among the rest of the other lucky accepted students if he is to rise above the fray. As I struggled with my thoughts and pen, more and more pressure mounted. MY LORD, first impressions are everything!
After much thought, I remembered a brilliant story about our Johnny at just 4 years old when he surprised me by dismantling the rocker in the nursery by removing two screws with a screwdriver he lifted from the garage. We knew then he was a budding engineer, born to work on airplanes or make some concoction that was sure to revolutionize the world. Now, he has the resume and high school diploma with all the right subjects to prove it. In reality, the professors were telling us that 50% of these freshmen would not make it to sophomore year. Sure, they were tops in High School but this is a big state university, and engineering is really, really hard. So, DO NOT be hard on Johnny if he comes home at Christmas break and tells you he has changed is major to Communications!
"Communications!" I thought. I did not spend 19 years of my life (the womb counts) carrying, nurturing, protecting, building, and pushing my Johnny to do anything less than a career that would reward him with the best in life! "Communications over my dead body!" which I am sure was every parent's thought in the room. Each of us convincing ourselves that they were talking about another student, not our own.
As the professor spoke I couldn't help look around the room as she told the parents that we could not see their grades. This was due to a Federal HIPPA privacy act that says progress reports are the property of the adult students and any information must come directly from them. I think this is definitely the one fact that sent me over the edge. I was not even assured of knowing his grades? I have built my life around that report card, honing and figuring out how WE were going to manage to do the best. Now, it was going to be Johnny's job.
I was amazed at the purpose of the meeting. Basically, watch for our bill. We have had a pretty hard year like 50 percent of the country. Our endowments have seriously dwindled. What they were telling us is get the money! I mean beg, plead, and ask grandma, because we DO NOT do payments, and we DO NOT accept sob stories, and we DO NOT care if you have troubles. GET THE FREAKIN' MONEY or else your little Johnny will NOT be coming here. After all, our college standings say he better be darn glad he was accepted. Look around you, you are in the best of the best! We DO NOT accept junk.
After an hour of laughter and mayhem in the one hilarity rodeo, we were trucked on buses to the dreaded engineering "individual" session. This started out with a video that told us our child was of the Millennium generation. Excuse me? I guess I have heard of the Baby Boomers, the Post Moderns, and Generation X, but it hurts to think my baby has been labeled. The Millennial Generation, just so you know, has been overprotected, coddled, and pushed toward great successes in his or her life. We coined the term "Soccer Mom".
Look what we have vested in this child we carried in our loins: hours of homework to get those great grades starting in the wait-listed preschool they had to be in to ensure the best foundation, millions of miles on the mini-van carrying them to and from whatever interest may have popped into their little head (perhaps perfectly placed there by me who heard what Andrew down the street was doing), endless nights of laundry (let me say that again) piles of laundry wreaking of sweat and grass stains in white soccer shorts that have to be clean for the upcoming game, and finally all the worry that comes with producing a true protegee.
Now the moment is here. All we have worked and prayed for is at the door step, but the cost is more than that check to the university. It sits heavy on our hearts like a lead balloon. We want so much for them in life.
In working through this transition, first face it without denial. Things will never be the same, but life will return to a new normal. It is actually a new phase of freedom. Freedom at home with less dependency, more time to fill our lives with new goals, more time for our spouses and friends, and more time for reflection.
Second, realize grief is more than crying, it is the ability to remember without hurt, but we must cry either physically or mentally to get to that point. As we face the loss and process with safe friends, our hearts hurt less.
Third, evaluate the new role you are assuming. The parent of an up and coming young adult requires that we have a new way of thinking. Determine where those lines of privacy need to be for a healthy relationship for both you and your child.
I do not want to be that parent that has to pull the money card to insure that their child calls home or visits on their breaks. I want to be wanted, not forced upon the one I love. By setting them free, we can rejoice that when they call or come home, it is the because they still want to show us how much we mean to them. So, less control is showing more love as we send them off to school.
About this Author
For more helpful input on making life flow, read Denise's blog on her website. Denise Broadwater is a licensed counselor. More on this topic can be found at http://www.expertsinfocus.com/collegepage.html Visit her website for more blogs on various topics at http://fullyaliveonline.com
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