I’ve been seeing a lot of posts in the Grown and Flown Parents group from parents who are desperately worried about their kids adjusting to school. The posts are angsty and full of recriminations.
Does my child call too little or too often? Is it coddling to let them come home for the weekend? Should we make them “tough” it out? Should we jump in if we think they are struggling? Are we going to ruin our child if we get involved?
For our generation of parents, for a myriad of reasons, since the moment our children were conceived, parenting has been something of a competitive sport. And the judgements of other parents have often been swift and harsh, leaving us tossing and turning in a sea of self-doubt.
First “they” tried to convince us that if our fetus wasn’t exposed to classical music in utero, they would be steps behind their peers. Then, if our child was not exclusively breastfed, they would surely lose precious IQ points, they would certainly suffer from an inferior immune system or they would absolutely fail to bond appropriately. And on and on it went throughout childhood and into the teen years.
If they didn’t start soccer by age 4, they would never master it. If they didn’t play on travel teams, they had no athletic future. If they didn’t take AP classes, they wouldn’t get into a competitive college. If they didn’t find their passion in high school, that would present a problem.
Even now that the children are fledglings, the comparisons abound, and so do the feelings of inadequacy surrounded by the sneaking sensation that you are not doing this as well as you ought, or as well as your fellow parents. Our current worry is that we are not doing the college separation correctly, that we are not separating successfully.
As my mother kindly reminded me the other day, I was one of those college freshmen who called home constantly and cried through almost every one of those phone calls. I missed my home, my friends and my parents. I have no idea how my parents felt about my sadness. We never discussed it-except for my dad saying that he was happy they had given me a childhood whose end was worth crying over.
My folks stayed in their lane. I knew they were there if I needed them. I was welcome to come home whenever I wanted. Time passed and life, as it does, took its course. We all adjusted. Despite my somewhat rough start, I somehow managed to become a fully functioning, well-adjusted (by some standards) adult. If you ask my 86-year-old mother, she’ll tell you she doesn’t see or hear from me as often as she would like.
The right way to separate from your child is the way that works for you
Some kids call every five minutes and some not at all. Some need their space, and some need that continuing connection with mom and dad. As with any other developmental stage, the staggering majority of us get there, but in our own sweet time. Your timetable is as unique as you and your child.
You will not ruin your children if you talk to them all the time or if you let them come home for a weekend. Nor should you think that the kids who don’t communicate are setting the precedent for the relationship you will have with them going forward.
As when they were infants, whether you held them all day or not, whether you nursed or bottle-fed, attachment parented or not, THEY ALL GREW UP.
College is not real life. It is a unique inflection point, a moment in time, a sometimes-difficult transition, harder for some than for others. We all have different ways of coping with change. There is no right way, no wrong way, no better way, no worse way; there is only the way that works for you.
When my first son was born, I had an old-time pediatrician who had been in practice for about 50 years. When I wept in his office while cuddling my 3-week-old, telling him of my breastfeeding woes, he said something I have never forgotten.
“A happy mother is the most important gift you can give your child.” I took that advice to heart then and I still do. Rest assured that eventually we will all find our way, parents and kids alike. Trust your instincts, and the process. And, you do you.
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