WARNING! Tears ahead, grab your tissue.
Do you have children in college? Calling them children seems strange, I suppose I should ask “Do you have young adults in college?”
I do. She’s a junior, and goes to school 7 hours from our home. Every single day that she’s gone, it feels like she may as well be on the other side of the globe, or even another planet all together. Yes, we can FaceTime (thank the gods), but I still go to bed at night sad that she’s not under my roof. 7 hours away means she can’t just pop in for a quick weekend. It’s just far enough that it requires a long weekend off from classes, a long drive, or a planned flight. It feels “restrictive” and so very, very far away.
Walking past her bedroom gives me a weird mix of a gut ache, a broken heart, a tidal wave of anxiety, and yet a strong sense of pride. It’s the strangest combination of feelings imaginable. I want her to fly high and do all the things she dreams of doing! But wait, I want her here with me where I know she’s safe and so our family feels whole again, damn it! Ugh.
When she first left for school at the start of her freshman year, I cried the entire 7 hour drive home. So did my husband. She is the crazy, loud, goofy, court jester of our family. She is the source of the warm current of energy that flows through our home. Once we got home from moving her into her freshman apartment, my husband snuck upstairs and closed her bedroom door, thinking it would help me be less sad if I didn’t have to walk past her empty room on my way to our room.
But when I walked past that closed door a few minutes later, I lost my 
. Like full on rage screaming, dropping F-bombs like confetti and ugly-crying. WHY IS HER DOOR CLOSED? NO ONE IS EVER ALLOWED TO CLOSE THIS DOOR – EVER! CLOSING HER DOOR MEANS SHE’S PERMANENTLY GONE. SHE’S NOT PERMANENTLY GONE, SHE’S JUST AT SCHOOL AND SHE’LL BE HOME IN 6 WEEKS FOR FALL BREAK!!!!!!! FOR CRAP’S SAKE, DON’T EVER, EVER CLOSE THIS DOOR! [Insert a whole string of expletives that went on for at least a good 10 minutes.]
That was three years ago. I can assure you, no one has ever had the courage to close that door ever again. I suppose it’s encouraging to know they all value their lives.
So I ask you, am I the only parent that, before falling asleep every night, takes an “inventory” of where all of my people are so that I can either feel relieved that they’re all under my roof, or worry knowing that someone(s) is missing? I literally walk past every bedroom door in my mind and think “here, here, not here (where are they, are they safe, do I need to check on them, are they going to get back to their apartment / friend’s house ok….”) Then my heart races, and I have to Roman Gladiator-like fight my instincts to pick up my phone and check on them. Gods forbid they think I’m overbearing or plain old crazy.
It’s a unique form of parental torture that I never understood when I was at college myself, and I know my kids will never understand until they have kids of their own who’ve moved away.
So I hold my emotional breath until she comes home for a long weekend, summer or winter break. The MINUTE she steps into the house, my heart is healed, and my anxiety disappears. I can breathe. I can go to bed those nights and sigh at the relief I feel that all my people are under one roof. I can sleep. My heart is happy and full again.
If your kids haven’t left the nest for college or trade school or wherever their journey takes them, then you don’t yet know that feeling of incompleteness – like half of your heart is missing and you’re just holding on for dear life, waiting for them to walk back through the front door.
If your kids are at school or out on their own, then you know exactly what I’m talking about. IYKYK.
She was home this past weekend. That meant I moved heaven and hell to to clear my schedule so that I could soak up her presence, and enjoy the peace that comes with having everyone present and accounted for. We’re also friends, so having her back in the house feels like my “phantom limb” is temporarily real again. I don’t want to miss a single minute. Her freshman and sophomore years, I counted down the minutes until she had a break and I waited anxiously to see her car coming up our driveway for a visit. Now that she’s in her junior year, I can still hear a clock ticking, but this time it’s counting down to the inevitable moment when she says “I want to stay at school this summer to work” or “I want to go to my boyfriend’s house for Christmas.” I know those moments are lurking around the corner. I know we’re running out of time to count on her coming home on every break.
While I still worry about her safety (and will until my dying day), my worry has shifted to that moment when I know she’ll no longer consider my home to be her home because she will have a home of her own. Gods help me when that moment arrives, I’ll be a blubbering mess. I have to shove that fear way down deep and lock it in a little mom-lockbox where we stuff all of our fears that we aren’t ready to face. IYKYK.
I used to wonder why my mom always asked me what I wanted to eat when I would come home from college. As if she feared I must not eat at all while I’m at school. (Based on the weight I gained when I was a freshman, I clearly had access to plenty of beer….er…food at school.)
But now as a mom, I totally get why she always asked me that.
You see, once your kids become self-sufficient, you start to worry that there’s nothing else you can do for them that’s of value. You feel compelled to find something, anything you can that’s a unique gesture from you that expresses to them how much you love them and miss them. You want to give them something they love, that will make them feel better, that they will never be able to find at school or even when they have their own home. You want to re-establish your value, but also that parental connection that says “I will always take care of you.”
Since Scooby-Doo bandaids and kisses on the scraped knee aren’t in high demand any more, it seems the universal way to show them you care is make them a home-cooked meal.
And so when she’s home, ironically, my first question as her mom is “what do you want me to cook for you while you’re here?”
Last weekend, it was chicken and rice casserole, spaghetti and meatballs, hot corn dip, fish tacos, my salsa and guac, and omelettes.
And so I cooked and cooked, filled her belly with food that only tastes good when mom makes it (so she swears, when she tried to cook the same recipes at school), and I refilled my heart with love and joy. I sure do love my Little Warrior Princess.
Tell me, friends with kids in college or grown and flown, do you experience the same thing? What do you do when your babies-who-aren’t-babies-anymore come back home for a visit? Drop us a comment below to tell us your experience.
Cheers (with tears), lovelies!
