Precious Peanut Goes to College

It’s a buzz-phrase at our house, a morality tale of what NOT to do.  Do NOT write something embarrassing – such as “Precious Peanut Goes to College” – on your rear window when you take your kid to move-in day.

I took my kid in August.  I didn’t write anything on my window, spill food on myself, or fall down.  We didn’t wrangle over how to set up her half of the room.  I didn’t wrangle with her roommate’s parents, either! 

I over-think things, and so far I’ve thought of LOTS of emotional trap doors and pitfalls possibly awaiting me, so if they arose, I could recognize them and plow forward without falling in.  For example...
...I thought of the possibility that when she left it might be like losing her Dad all over again.  But it wasn’t.  It was entirely different.  See, this is all good.  So far.

And yes, I know there’s a vine-covered snare in my future, and one day soon I’ll find myself dangling upside down muttering “didn’t see that coming.” 

But for now, she likes the roommate, likes the hall mates, likes the food, likes her classes, and got her dream job in the library.  And her dorm looks like something out of Hogsmeade.  She’s happy; I’m happy.

The thing I had my antennae in a twist over  -  the four-hour solo drive home on I-70, I-270, I-71, and I-275 with corresponding exiting and merging without my navigator - was logistical, not emotional.  And it went fine.

Before she left I read an editorial by a father about how hard it was to let his kid go, the empty room, etc.  It was well said, but I had to wonder, “are you just now thinking of these things?”

I’ve been letting her go – or at least loosening my grip – for years.


Contributed by Elaine Jack, Assistant Editor, Today's Family magazine.