Letting go

There’s expectation in the air. It’s my daughter laying out different outfits on her bed, deciding on the perfect thing to wear to high school. It’s my husband, giving himself a smart haircut early in the morning before heading out to his teaching job. It’s the expanding stash of dorm room supplies growing in a corner, in anticipation of my son heading off to his freshman year at the university.

Even the dog has taken to sitting and staring at us, ears on high alert, playing some type of staring contest where only he knows the rules. (I’m pretty sure the rules involve food.)

All around me, my family swirls, each in their own little ecosystem. And for the first time, it seems, nobody needs me. Not in the way little kids need their Mom. I am no longer the center of their world, and I find myself standing awkwardly to the side, feeling a little confused as to what comes next for me. It’s as though I’m wearing pants without any pockets, and I’m panicking because I have no idea what to do with my hands.

In the early days, my family of four little darlings did everything together. I gave up working outside the home in order to raise them full-time. The days ran into each other, a blur of splashing in the pool, singing in the car, or reading bedtime stories. On movie nights, we’d pile up sleeping bags and pillows in the center of the living room and make what my daughter referred to as “a cuddle puddle.” In the throes of those exhausting, giggly, loud, and sticky days, I sometimes felt like it would never end.

My son, when he was only 4, told me that when he grew up, he’d buy the house next door and build a tunnel between our two houses “so we can see each other all the time.” Now, he’s in his 20s, and there’s been no mention of digging that tunnel. Instead, he’s moved away, found a job, and is building his adult life. I’m so proud of the young man he’s become. I’m proud of all my kids.

Age 18 is the fulcrum in the strange seesaw ride of parenting, and I’m teetering in the center. After seeing to every need up to that point—clothing, entertainment, discipline, education, transportation, health and nutrition, I now find myself in the “letting go” phase of parenting.

It feels like an ending. 

I guess it is an ending, in some ways. It’s an ending of deep-in-the-trenches parenting. It’s an end to cuddle puddles. It’s an end to stepping on Legos and never being alone in the bathroom (ever).

My role as Mom now consists of being my kids’ greatest cheerleader. I will always tell them how proud I am of them, and assure them that whatever direction they’re headed, to keep going; trust their gut.

I also hereby pledge to be their most reliable emergency contact. I may not have any Buzz Lightyear Band Aids left in the First Aid kit anymore, but I will answer the phone when they need something. 

But children heading to adulthood is a beginning, really. I mean, this is why we parent, isn’t it? It’s why we teach our kids to look both ways before they cross the street; so that they can do it themselves someday. We cajole them into eating their broccoli by pretending they are huge dinosaurs gobbling up tiny trees, because we want them to develop lifelong healthy habits. Everything we do for them is ultimately us nudging, pushing, and sometimes shoving them toward adulthood.

My two oldest sons already live in their own apartments and have jobs and significant others. When they refer to “home,” (I left my jacket at home. It’s time for me to get home.) they no longer mean my house. They mean their house.

Somebody told me recently that it is okay to feel more than one emotion at a time. When I heard that, I felt surprised. I guess I hadn’t thought of it that way before. While I sadly miss the days of pudgy cheeks and toddling first steps, I’m joyfully staring at my young adult children. I had my chance to teach them the things they needed to know. I’m sure I forgot more than a few things. Now, I let go. I watch them launch into the beyond, and I hope for the best. I don’t know where they’ll end up, but I know they will figure it out. I’ll be here cheering them on.

In the meantime, I’ve got to quit standing around awkwardly, wondering what to do with my hands.

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