As if one wasn’t bad enough…
I have now launched my second kid off to college. This time it’s my daughter.
Just thinking about Faith not upstairs asleep in her room chokes me up. (it’s 5:03 am and she’s probably snoring logs right about now in Arizona)
My Faith…My joy. My tenderness. The beauty that brightens my every day. The girl with the cat like fierceness that commands attention. This child, my middle child, my greatest struggle as a parent and also the greatest joy, the kid I don’t worry about because I know she’ll kick ass and take names. This strong, independent, sensitive, charming sass of a woman, the invader of my heart and hijacker of emotions left my nest.
NO….yes….NO!!!!
I’m so happy for her (but so sad for me)
And the familiar ache, the one I just spent two years nursing back to wholeness after my son left for college is tugging at me again.
A friend called the other night and we commiserated about losing our children to college and growing up. In the blink of an eye, our crazy busy homes are so EMPTY.
I try to cheer her up but I’m wallowing too. I’m the “lucky one” she says, because I still have one kid left. And while that’s true, there is an emptiness in the home I can’t get back. It’s like one of those LOL Dolls. Try to put that shit back together after a kid has unwrapped it.
YOU JUST CANT!
Life is like that too. You don’t realize how many layers of love and struggle and sacred joy there are until you finally get to the prized toy and then the journey of unwrapping is over. But you can’t re-wrap an LOL Doll and you certainly can’t recreate the mystical journey of raising a child.
The irony of parenting is real
The honest truth is that my darling daughter was a pain in the ass for a few years as a teenager. (I’m sure I wasn’t always parent of the year either) And then like a butterfly she transformed into a breathtaking and kind young woman. Here’s the suck part. She’s so cool now I don’t want her to leave. If you had asked me this same question when she was 14, I might have paid someone to take her off my hands.
A few weeks ago we did a bunch of lasts before she leaves home. We jumped into the car and headed to Starbucks. Then we drove to church, checked in Kolby in kid’s ministry and headed down to the worship center. Kolby chastised me for trying to hold her hand as she entered the 4th grade room with her. Not this one too!!! Can someone still be my baby?
Faith sashayed beside me, looking like a model in her black boho hat, animal print skirt and black tank tied just above her perfect belly button. Her new flower tattoo on the wrist caught my eye. All grown up but still my little girl. And for the last time before she tackled ASU she leaned in to me close and held my arm during the service.
Pinch me! I kept glancing over at her trying to freeze the moment and capture just one more second of her beauty.
I wanted to stay right there and ENJOY her adorableness forever but the reality of her leaving trailed me around like my dog Zeus in the morning when he’s hungry. Yapping and nipping at my heels.
Intense joy and excruciating pain all in one breath. Exulting and weeping inside. So conflicted!
And I reminded myself that..It’s OK to hurt when my babies grow up and leave for college!
It simply means I love them.
So even though this isn’t my first rodeo, it still aches like a mother. And I say that literally because motherhood hurts, dang it! It’s so good and it’s so hard. It feels like with each child I birthed another heart I wear on my sleeve that can swell up with love, get trampled and carry a truckload of anxiety, jubilation, guilt and concern.
Last weekend I drove her up to her new apartment in Tempe and moved her in. It’s an urban oasis of concrete, wood, modern and rustic with a resort pool, dog grooming facilities, clubhouse and a Starbucks on the bottom floor. Wait, what?
Only my daughter finagles a way to not live in the dorms her freshman year. But that’s my Faith. She determines what she wants and goes after it like a tornado. Somehow she leveraged her beer budget to live out her champagne dreams.
In all truth, I have to give her props for accepting nothing but the best. I might also be a wee bit jealous at her tenacity. I want this girl’s mojo and I really want the Starbucks!
I cried my eyes out when I said goodbye. And the next day. And the next day. A week in and I’m starting to recover but it’s the little things that put me over the edge. One less plate at dinner, less laundry to fold, no more waking up in the middle of the night to make sure she’s home safe. No more trips to Starbucks together and church on Sunday’s. No more hugs and train wrecked bedrooms. She’s got her own Starbucks now and she has to pick up her own messes.
Today I Facetimed her and watched as she cuddled up on the cushy white pointelle bedspread I bought for her new bed. The good news is she seems totally content and capable despite the 116 temperature outside in Tempe. The bad news is, she doesn’t seem to miss me as much as I miss her.
But I hope late at night when it’s get’s still (and real quiet) and her thoughts get to loud to sleep that these blankets will comfort her and remind her just a little bit of home where her mama can’t sleep too because she’s thinking and aching about her beautiful girl who grew up to fast.
So for all the mama’s saying goodbye this week to their grown up babies, I want to give you a high five. We did it! Now go and honor those feelings, and grab a box of tissues, a girlfriend and a glass of wine. It’s an excruciatingly long time to parent’s weekend!
The most important thing that parents can teach their children is how to get along without them.” ~ Frank A. Clark
