Recently, my son reminded me that I haven’t penned a blog post in almost a year—definitely not due to a lack of inspiration! A lot has happened in that time, some of which could’ve made for quite the captivating read.
For instance, I could share the day I accidentally sliced off part of my thumb while using a mandoline slicer. In a moment of shock, I picked up the severed piece, placed it back, and wrapped it up with a paper towel. I actually pondered for a few minutes whether I needed to seek medical help. Spoiler alert: I did. Only someone with an Italian heritage would sacrifice a digit for the sake of perfect fried eggplant slices!
Then, right after what I now fondly call “The Mandoline Incident,” I received a skin cancer diagnosis on my scalp. However, my writing tends to lean towards humor, and it was tough to find a comedic angle on that situation. Thankfully, I’m okay now—take that, squamous cell carcinoma!
A Significant Milestone
Another noteworthy event? My eldest child, Lily, graduated high school. This was a significant milestone. She got accepted into the University of Washington, her top choice. Our families traveled to celebrate her graduation, and while it was a joyful occasion, I may have shed a few tears—though I can’t quite recall the details now.
This summer, she worked hard to save money and we discussed what she’d need for college. We bought new bedding for her dorm, storage solutions, and even a mini-fridge. I felt surprisingly composed throughout it all. We even ordered her textbooks a few days ago, and still, I was handling it.
The Day of Departure
Then came the day we loaded the car, drove onto the ferry, and headed to Seattle. After moving her into a bright, brand-new dorm, we enjoyed a lovely dinner with her roommate and their kind family. Everything seemed fine… until the moment I hugged Lily goodbye and watched her walk away, leaving her childhood behind. At that instant, everything changed; suddenly, I wasn’t fine anymore.
It felt like an emotional hurricane had swept through me. Sure, I anticipated feeling sad when she left. After spending nearly two decades together, it’s natural to miss your child—no matter how annoying they can be at times. And while Lily is a gem, my heart ached as I confronted my worries. Up until now, I always knew her whereabouts—what time she woke up, what she ate, and when she went to bed. Now, she’s in a bustling city, and I have no idea if she’s sleeping well or if she remembered her jacket. This uncertainty is unsettling.
Worries and Guilt
Along with my worries, guilt has crept in. I find myself questioning every decision I made as a parent. Did I prepare her adequately for the “real” world? Did I scare her too much or not enough? Will she remember to keep the pepper spray in her backpack? Did I even mention that the post office closes at 5:30?
To my surprise, anger has also surfaced. I feel a bit cheated by the world for not preparing me for this moment. We receive countless unsolicited parenting tips about sleepless nights with newborns, toddler tantrums, and the trials of teenage years. Yet, when it comes to sending your child off to college, the response is always, “Oh, how exciting!” No one warned me that this would be the most challenging milestone of all. Not one person said, “Oh, your kid is going to college? I’m sorry, that must be tough for you.”
Of course, I’m thrilled for Lily and excited about her future. I wouldn’t want her to stay home forever. But the reality is, this transition is incredibly hard for me. So, to parents of younger kids, I’m sharing this truth because nobody told me: it’s tough. You’re welcome.
The Silence
People often say, “At least she’s only an hour away,” which provided some comfort—until yesterday. I quickly realized that whether she’s an hour or five hours away, it doesn’t change the fact that she’s no longer in her room. The silence in our house is deafening.
I keep picturing my little girl walking toward her dorm, and in my mind, I’m fighting back tears, yelling, “Wait! Turn around! Please, I’m not finished yet. I need just a little more time!”
But my time is gone, and all I can do is hope I made the most of every moment we had. Despite my heart feeling heavy, I know the reality: while I may wish for more time, she’s ready to embrace the world. Strong, smart, and beautiful, she’s prepared for this next chapter. So, world, please treat her kindly.
Resources for Parents
For more information on preparing for parenthood, check out this piece on the home insemination kit. If you’re looking for activities for your little one, this is a great resource. And if you want to dive deeper into the topic of artificial insemination, this Wikipedia entry is an excellent resource.
In summary, watching your child grow up is filled with joy and heartache. It’s a journey where you must learn to let go, even when it feels impossible.