My kid is leaving home- and I’m the one who still has a lot to learn.
My oldest leaves for college next week.
I tucked the card in my school bag for a time when I could act enough of a grown up to read, and feel, the actually words my son had written to me.
I think I’m sad about it, but I won’t say it out loud? I keep hearing myself say dumb things like: “He’s ready and I’m excited for him!” out loud whenever anyone asks how I’m doing. Or, I lean into full-on emotional superiority (let’s call it numbness). when I think to myself, “Why are all of these moms so upset? It’s not about us. IT’S ABOUT THE KIDS.”
It’s all really obnoxious.
And the “I’m emotionally stronger than the other moms” part of me is saying this is my approach because I don’t want Tyler to worry about my feelings… but the emotionally honest part of me knows it’s because I’m making myself numb. Because I don’t really want to admit I have these feelings.
Last week, while I was driving in the car, Spotify (which is being full on rude lately, for some reason playing love songs from parents to children that I never even knew was a thing?) played a cover version of the Pretenders’ “I’ll Stand by You” that I had never heard before, and I felt my throat catch a little.
So obviously, I turned it off, and voice texted a highly-practical Top 10 List for Tyler into Google Keep on my phone:
The Top 10 Things I Hope I Taught you Before you Leave for College
To be a problem solver.
To be kind, to yourself, as well as to other others.
To believe in yourself more than anybody else does, including me (and I believe in you a lot).
To respect yourself, especially when someone else doesn’t.
To trust your gut, even when your brain is contradicting it.
To know that just because we finished this leg of the journey, I don’t go anywhere. It’s always OK to need your mom.
To sink into what you love, especially when it’s weird or unusual.
To find your people.
That you already are brave.
That you already are enough.
That if you could look at yourself through my eyes for even a moment, you would be absolutely blown away by who you see.
You still have plenty to learn so stay damn humble despite number 11.
I still regret not teaching you to use a napkin before you were three years old. Please use a napkin.
So what if it’s 13 and not 10? I don’t care. Clearly I’ve taught him a lot.
Making the list helped me work through whatever feeling the Spotify song was trying to evoke, politely. I closed the app and put it down.
Last week, on my birthday, Tyler handed me a card. I opened the card. A gift card to my favorite store fell out, and I noticed he had written something meaningful inside the card. I saw words like “hard work” and “kind.”
I pretended to read it, made an appropriately touched face, and gave him a huge hug.
I tucked the card in my school bag for a time when I could act enough of a grown up to read, and feel, the actually words my son had written to me.
Yesterday, sitting at my desk in an empty school, I was sifting through a bunch of crap out in my school bag, and saw the little sloth-wearing-a-birthday-hat card starring up at me from the bottom of my bag. I took a deep breath, and read the words, in my son’s handwriting, that I’m not sure my heart could bear. The last sentence was:
“I will always hold the lessons you have taught me in my heart- try new things, work hard, and of course, be kind.”
And at that exact moment, stupid (creepily intuitive) Spotify played a stupid (beautiful) song by annoying (incredible) Michale Buble called “Forever Now.”
And I put my head down on my desk and cried.
I thought about how I am the most reluctant, stubborn, teacher-of-feelings who has ever existed… and then I just thought about how grateful I am to have had Tyler around for his whole childhood. And then I thought about how I was a little sad this part is over. And then, I realized that’s ok.