I dropped my youngest off at college a little more than three weeks ago. The running family joke was that I should avoid this event at all costs to spare myself and others the embarrassing blubbering and sobbing that would no doubt ensue. I, apparently, have a reputation for crying.
I am proud to say that I held things together pretty well. It wasn't until I got into the car, after a long walk around campus and the city with both of my boys and I saw Charlie walking his confident walk up the hill and off to new adventures that I started to cry. Sob, really. I was glad that I had packed some extra hankies for myself.
But my tears really weren't what you'd think. While I knew that I would miss him keenly over the next few weeks (or months or years) and that his absence would be felt in ways I could not imagine, I was not crying tears of sadness.
The world deserves to know my boy - his kindness, his gift of song, his humor, his brilliance, his compassion, his sense of fairness, his creativity and his determination. He was only ever on loan to me and I am (sorta) ready for the broader world to know and love him. And he is ready to make a difference in a place that is further beyond his home.
On Thursday, my school hosted Back To School Night. There is a part of me that always dreads this. After all, it makes for a long day and the parents (rightly so) have many questions and concerns that have likely not even occurred to those of us in school.
Throughout the two hours of talking and listening to families, I noticed something. All the moms and dads - those who could make it and those who could not - felt the way I felt watching my Charlie walk across campus. That feeling of knowing your kids' strengths and their vulnerabilities, what brings them joy and what will be scary, what they want to learn and what they need to learn and mostly, that the world is ready for their particular flavor of brilliance.
The underlying fear for parents is "will the world see what I see?" And only sometimes is the answer yes. When it's your own kid, it easy to overlook their shortcomings and annoying habits. When there are 30 of them in a room, it's much harder.
Leaving my 6 foot tall, independent baby at school left behind a deeper understanding of what matters to families when they send kids off to school - whether that is around the corner, across the city or in a different state. Know my kid. Appreciate and help them develop their gifts. Be patient when they are annoying and they mess up. Help them to fix their mistakes and be kind to others. Hold them accountable, but also cut them some slack. Push them to do their best, but help them rest and recover when they need to. Laugh along with them, support them when they are sad and listen when they explain things. Know them - because they are worth knowing. I'll sit here watching, with my heart in my throat, and cheer them on.
I am proud to say that I held things together pretty well. It wasn't until I got into the car, after a long walk around campus and the city with both of my boys and I saw Charlie walking his confident walk up the hill and off to new adventures that I started to cry. Sob, really. I was glad that I had packed some extra hankies for myself.
But my tears really weren't what you'd think. While I knew that I would miss him keenly over the next few weeks (or months or years) and that his absence would be felt in ways I could not imagine, I was not crying tears of sadness.
The world deserves to know my boy - his kindness, his gift of song, his humor, his brilliance, his compassion, his sense of fairness, his creativity and his determination. He was only ever on loan to me and I am (sorta) ready for the broader world to know and love him. And he is ready to make a difference in a place that is further beyond his home.
On Thursday, my school hosted Back To School Night. There is a part of me that always dreads this. After all, it makes for a long day and the parents (rightly so) have many questions and concerns that have likely not even occurred to those of us in school.
Throughout the two hours of talking and listening to families, I noticed something. All the moms and dads - those who could make it and those who could not - felt the way I felt watching my Charlie walk across campus. That feeling of knowing your kids' strengths and their vulnerabilities, what brings them joy and what will be scary, what they want to learn and what they need to learn and mostly, that the world is ready for their particular flavor of brilliance.
The underlying fear for parents is "will the world see what I see?" And only sometimes is the answer yes. When it's your own kid, it easy to overlook their shortcomings and annoying habits. When there are 30 of them in a room, it's much harder.
Leaving my 6 foot tall, independent baby at school left behind a deeper understanding of what matters to families when they send kids off to school - whether that is around the corner, across the city or in a different state. Know my kid. Appreciate and help them develop their gifts. Be patient when they are annoying and they mess up. Help them to fix their mistakes and be kind to others. Hold them accountable, but also cut them some slack. Push them to do their best, but help them rest and recover when they need to. Laugh along with them, support them when they are sad and listen when they explain things. Know them - because they are worth knowing. I'll sit here watching, with my heart in my throat, and cheer them on.
Tell it like it is! (...& please pass the hankies ;-)
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