My daughter is a senior at Wando this year and we have begun the round of college visits. She is excited about the prospect of going off on her own, this fearless young woman. Full of promise and vinegar. I have no doubt she will do well.
I'm using the shuffle of paperwork and the demands of deadlines to put off thinking about what my life will be like when she's gone. The center of my universe for eighteen years is moving away and just what is that going to do to my orbit? After years of going to open houses to meet the teachers, of being room mom and band parent, my job is obsolete.
Of course there is plenty to involve myself with, no end of opportunities to volunteer for. My husband and I will have plenty of couple time. I can have a pint of Phish Phood for supper and not feel guilty about the dearth of nutritional value. But the special closeness of Mother and Daughter will be changed. Fewer and fewer chances to sit together on the couch and watch movies and cry over the sad parts. Fewer long car rides to hash out the sticky problems of the universe and our personal paths.
We have managed somehow to avoid many of the pitfalls that separate so many mothers and daughters during the teen age years. Not to say the we haven't screamed at each other from time to time, but we always come back to the love that is the center of our relationship. As we come closer to the time when she will stand on her own I am filled with a mixture of awe and pride in this fantastic creature that I birthed. I watch her move with grace through a group of skydivers who respect her for her courage and skill. I watch her stand on stage and give a presentation that wows the crowd and earns her a trophy for speech and debate team. And I watch her move away, head up and shoulders back, striding into the future that is her birthright.
Parenting is a job where if you do it well, you work yourself right out of a job.
I'm in a great college town now -- Charlottesville, VA -- working on a travel story. Don't know if it would help, but I have degrees from UNC (undergrad) and Emory (master). Also, I think colleges, in general, are really cool.
best of luck to you and your daughter.
Posted by: benbrazil | Sunday, September 18, 2005 at 19:54
We don't become obsolete, we just change our role. And, if we're good parents, we've been doing that all along. We stop feeding them but keep paying for the food. We don't pick them up from everywhere they go, but they still come home. We can't shield them so much anymore, but we still help them cope.
All along the way the all-powerful mother(and father)devolves into a human being, who makes mistakes and wrong choices and has flaws just like anyone else. It doesn't take as long as you might hope for your kids to figure out that you aren't perfect. But they can still believe you are the perfect mom for them.
And that can last forever.
Posted by: Janet Edens | Monday, September 19, 2005 at 09:27
At what point do they start taking us out to dinner? That's what I'm waiting for. I won't mind being obsolete so much when they're picking up the checks.
Posted by: Daniel | Monday, September 19, 2005 at 18:39
Well I have told he she's my retirement plan but I didn't really mean it.(much)
Posted by: Jean McGreggor | Tuesday, September 20, 2005 at 18:08
Dinner?! I'm expecting my kids to buy me a house. And they need to get on the stick. They are almost too old to be the next Hanson ...
Posted by: Janet Edens | Thursday, September 22, 2005 at 07:42