If you happened to see a figure some 26 years ago hiding in the bushes looking into the window of my daughter’s first day of nursery school, it was me. That was my first ‘letting go’ and I was reassured that she was not wailing as some children were, but happily playing at the sand table. Some might have called me crazy (which I could have been) but I took great joy in parenting this child and only wanted her to feel loved and safe.
I am reminded of a special moment with my dad who gave me my love of horses. Whenever we would take summer road trips, he would always take me to a riding barn for a few lessons and a trail ride because no facility existed close to our home. Mom told me years later that on one outing, I was on the last horse as the group went out on the trails. He swiftly grabbed and saddled up a mount – as he was anxious that I might get overlooked at the end, and so he followed the group to keep an eye on me. He thoughtfully stayed back just far enough away so that I wouldn’t know he was there. I think, in retrospect, that became my approach to parenting: Don’t hover but always be there to catch.
Luckily, I got over the peeping mom period as my daughter grew into a confident girl and played by most of the rules as a teenager. Then college came, and well, you know how that goes. Tears that ran unannounced from both of us were soothed by multiple fun trips to Bed Bath & Beyond. I made sure she had a first aid kit, birth control and gave all the lectures about not walking back to the dorm alone at night and not drinking from red cups already filled. I felt she was safe along the well-lit paths until her first off campus apartment with her besties across from a run-down cemetery. All my fears went into overdrive with visions of zombies rising from the graves a la Thriller or creepy men lurking to grab her (I think zombies would have been safer, I mean at least they could dance). She survived and, better than that, she thrived.
I know I’m a genetic worrier (you didn’t know my mom!), but I think her knowing she could call me anytime day or night or even to talk as she walked home in the dark made her feel she could take risks knowing she could always reach me. I had determined myself to not project my own fears onto her.
College is a huge step for both parents and children. Some kids rebel and let loose, drink too much, or skip classes as they try out their freshly minted wings. Others hit the books and join clubs but, from what I’ve observed, most find their place somewhere in the middle. If I had to name one thing that makes the college years easier it would be having a strong history of communication. Problems, concerns and even intimacy issues can be openly talked about as well as listening to the endless complaints about boring teachers or obnoxious friends. Listening to everything without judgment keeps the door open for when one has parental wisdom to impart or aims to guide a situation that is beyond their scope.
My daughter is now long graduated, finishing pandemic-delayed graduate school, and preparing to be married. The lessons learned about the balance between autonomy and closeness developed during the college years now serve us well. They have helped maintain our great friendship as she still comes to me when she has concerns or just needs to know how long to boil an egg. I figure we have done pretty well – at least on my end. You’ll have to ask her how she thinks we did. Better yet, don’t ask!
