It should have been a perfect moment. The night before, I rehearsed every word—though, truthfully, it was more like the early hours of the morning at 2:19 a.m. I envisioned myself standing before my oldest child as if I were a saint, arms gently outstretched, head tilted ever so slightly. I imagined pulling him close, smoothing his hair, and meeting his trusting gaze. I would smile serenely and declare, “My wonderful baby boy, we are so proud of you and confident in all you will achieve this year. We love you dearly!”
Then, I envisioned a brief but meaningful embrace, enough to capture the moment, and I would whisper, “Goodbye, my son!” With that, I would turn resolutely toward our minivan, walking away with steadfast legs—no glancing back, channeling my inner Margaret Thatcher. It would be a dignified farewell.
But on Wednesday, when the time came for the actual drop-off, things went quite differently. As my son led us to the car, I knew it was time to say goodbye. I aimed to impart a calm confidence. Instead, I blurted out: “Use single-ply toilet paper; double-ply clogs. Get enough sleep to avoid feeling down. Make sure to smile back so you look happy to be here. And never put your cups mouth-side down on the counter—germs everywhere! Wash your hands, as I’ve seen too many people who don’t bother.”
He tried to step back, perhaps gasping for air as I clung to his neck like a lifebuoy. Did that stop my verbal barrage? Absolutely not. I continued with the same urgency I had when we first left him with a babysitter almost two decades ago.
“Don’t lend money,” I insisted, gripping his shirt tighter. “Always look over your shoulder when walking home alone at night, and don’t wear earbuds—you need to be aware of your surroundings. Eat protein; it wards off the blues. And please shower regularly—it’s a game-changer. A fresh shirt helps too, so let me know if you need some!”
Before I knew it, I was enveloping him in a desperate hug, reminiscent of when he would cling to me in his small bathtub as a baby.
I couldn’t stop. My voice muffled against his chest, I kept going: “Read food labels, and make sure to take those vitamins in your plastic bin. Change your toothbrush when it’s frayed. Drink plenty of water. Don’t forget to pack a hat—earmuffs don’t count—and an umbrella, since rain can strike unexpectedly in Wisconsin. Move every hour to keep your energy up. If you think you need to see a health professional, don’t hesitate—just go!”
I fought back tears, insisting on my mission, while the real message I had planned was slipping away. It was now or never for the final farewell. I squared my shoulders and took a step back to deliver my rehearsed words of wisdom. Instead, a crackly voice, more awkward than intended, escaped me.
Suddenly, it all came rushing out: tears flowed like a river. I lunged back toward my son, soaking his shirt as I hung onto him once more. I tried to gather my composure, but the moment overwhelmed me, and I croaked out some incoherent sounds.
“Mom,” he asked, genuinely confused, “Why are you crying?” His simplicity only made things harder. I squeezed my eyes shut, burying my face in his neck, holding onto his shoulders tightly. I needed him to understand that I could no longer be there to ensure he followed all my advice. I needed him to listen to every bit of guidance I had thrown at him, which I believed would keep him safe and happy.
I had cared for him his entire life, but now, it was his responsibility to look out for himself. He had to make sure he returned home every night, without earbuds, of course.
This beautiful boy, the one we are so proud of, is going to do amazing things. And if only there were a way for him to translate my frantic instructions about hygiene and proper attire into something clearer, it would boil down to one simple truth: “Your mother loves you more than words can express.”
If you’re looking for more parenting advice, you might enjoy reading about at-home insemination kits on this blog post or exploring family planning insights at this authority on family planning. For excellent resources on pregnancy, check out Healthline’s pregnancy section.
In summary, the experience of dropping off a child at college can be filled with emotions and unexpected moments. While you might plan a heartfelt farewell, reality often takes over, leading to a flurry of advice and heartfelt tears. Ultimately, it’s a bittersweet transition that signifies both pride and the need for independence.