I felt an overwhelming sense of joy when my daughter, the ever-charming Lily, graduated from high school this past spring. Finally, I thought, the chaos was behind us… or so I believed.
This summer, she’s been around quite a bit. While she picks up shifts at her job in a local cinema, she’s home more often than not. As August 22nd approaches—when we’ll be moving her and all her belongings to Burlington, Vermont—I’m bracing myself for the inevitable pang of missing her. Right now, however? Not so much.
Currently, I’m inundated with requests for egg salad sandwiches and multiple trips to the mall. It seems she can never locate a beach towel (or even a regular one) when she needs it. And don’t even get me started on the mystery of her favorite sandals. I genuinely hope her new roommates are better at keeping track of her things than I’ve been. I also wonder if they’ve mastered the art of boiling an egg. Is there a section on the roommate matching forms for these essential skills? Probably not.
This is likely a key reason why students go off to college—to learn not only about academics but also about managing their own lives. I suspect that alongside organic chemistry, keeping track of her belongings and learning how to prepare a simple sandwich will be among the skills she develops while away at school.
Knowing Lily, she’ll likely gravitate toward friends who will take care of these tasks for her. She has an uncanny ability to gather people around her. For the last 18 years, I have been one of her loyal supporters. I can hardly wait for August 22nd to arrive.
It feels like a long-awaited release—like breaking free from a prison or a mental ward where I’ve been confined for years. It truly does.
It’s not that I haven’t tried to instill self-reliance in her; I’ve made efforts, and some have been fruitful. She knows her bank balance down to the last cent, can shower and dress herself, and is punctual. Procrastination irks her, a trait she undoubtedly inherited from me.
However, unlike me but very much like her father, she struggles to make appointments—whether for car maintenance or dermatologist visits—yet somehow manages to schedule regular trips for mani-pedis. Thank goodness she won’t have her car on campus next year. But she must find a dermatologist; we’ve invested years and a small fortune keeping her acne under control. At least if she neglects her skin, her nails will likely look fabulous. I’m sure she’s already checked out the best nail salons in Burlington, VT, on Yelp.
She talks a lot about becoming an independent woman, and I’ve suggested that mastering her laundry skills would be a great first step—along with obtaining her immunization records from the pediatrician.
I suspect she has completed a single load of laundry from start to finish only once in her life. As for the immunization records, I know I’ll have to handle that; they’re as crucial for me as they are for her, given their significance for my impending freedom.
During one of our countless mall outings to gather last-minute items, we shared a meal together. She expressed her frustration with the world’s injustices, hoping to find a way—during or after college—to leverage her skills to make a difference. That’s commendable.
I told her that she might want to start by making a difference in my life, like picking up after herself, cooking her own pasta, or buying her own strawberries. She rolled her eyes, clearly thinking, “Mom, you’re missing the point. I’m trying to save the WORLD here!”
However, I understood. She often critiques me for my housekeeping skills and organizational habits. Seizing the moment, I quoted Gandhi: “Be the change you wish to see in the world.” She looked at me as if I were out of my mind, questioning whether I was belittling Gandhi by using his wisdom to persuade her to do something as mundane as laundry.
I can’t say for certain, not having known Gandhi personally, but I believe he would support my cause. I’m sure he had teenagers, and I bet they rolled their eyes at him too. I challenged her to find me a picture of Gandhi in a dirty or wrinkled sari. I’m still waiting for her to provide that proof.
In an effort to embody the change I wish to see in my own space, I plan to tackle some cleaning and organizing today. After all, I’d like to make Gandhi proud. (Don’t we all?) But first, I need to call the pediatrician’s office and the car dealership to sort out some matters for Lily. Who knows how long that will take?
I’m fairly certain I can hear Gandhi “tsking” at me right now. I definitely know he’s shaking his head. Meanwhile, I just keep repeating “August 22nd, August 22nd, August 22nd!”
In summary, as I count down the days until my daughter’s departure for college, I reflect on both the challenges and joys of motherhood. While I look forward to her independence, I also cherish the moments we have left together. I am reminded that every step she takes toward adulthood is not just a step for her but also a significant moment in my own journey as a parent.