Back to school is quite different for me this year. Sure, each year has come with its own changes. There was the era of hunting down a precise quantity of an exact pack of a specific brand of crayon. There was the age of waiting as debate raged as to which pencil case would best represent a seventh grader. And there was the time I nearly lost my mind when the 60 page college-ruled, spiral-bound notebooks on prominent display at the front of the office supply store cost $2 each while the 50 page college-ruled, spiral-bound notebooks hidden in the back of the office supply store cost only 30 cents.
But this year we prepare to send our oldest child off to their first year of college. By the time you read this they’ll hopefully be settled, but at present I’m hanging on to the last vestiges of blissful denial as each trip to Target adds more and more to the pile in our “college corner.” The “college corner” isn’t just filling up with traditional school supplies; it’s life things. It’s bedsheets, towels, laundry detergent, and even small appliances.
I don’t feel like a parent of an adult. I don’t feel like the grizzled parenting veteran, but I’m way closer to my kids being grown-ups than I am to them being babies. The other night I was chatting with parents of younger kids, and I felt so far removed from that time. When I was in the thick of it, I had a good sense of the common developmental differences between a 4-year-old and a 5-year-old, but now I pretty much group children into babies, kids, and teens.
My kid growing up and leaving for college feels like that Hemingway quote about going bankrupt: “Two ways. Gradually and then suddenly.” There’s a hard line where my kid won’t be living here anymore, but it’s not as if high schoolers are around all the time anyway. My wife Kat and I have gradually been finding ourselves with more and more dinners where it’s just us and one of the kids or even just the two of us.
So, we’ve been gradually getting used to our kids being around less, but I know there will be a world of difference between a kid who’s out living their life and a kid who’s out living their life somewhere else. Even if they aren’t here for dinner or to watch a show in the evening, they’re always still there in the morning. Even though I gripe about the clutter or having to clean up their messes, a dirty dish is proof of life. I won’t miss their messes, but I’m going to miss them.
Parents more veteran than I have warned about just how quiet the house gets when a kid departs for college (and how loud it gets when they return for their first fall break). My brother told me to expect taking on new projects (his is a puppy named Charlie). Besides a deep cleaning of my kid’s room, repairing some cracks in the wall, and putting up a fresh coat of paint, I don’t know that we have any hard plans.
A project I hope I take up is building the habit of a regular phone call with them. Interacting with my kid isn’t going to be as easy as knocking on their bedroom door or them coming downstairs. Hearing their voice is going to require deliberate action. We’re going to have to call each other on the actual phone. We’re going to have to save up things to remember to say to each other. I’ll be able to communicate with them more easily than at any other point in human history, but I’ll still have to do it. For the first time, for real, they won’t be here.
They’ll have their own people, their own places. They’ll go on their own adventures, and get into their own troubles. Of course, they’ve been doing this to some extent throughout high school – heck, their entire life – but this is different. My house will always be their home, but it won’t be where they live.
But this is how it works. My kids will grow up, and I wouldn’t trade it for anything. I got to meet them as adorable babies. I got to play pretend with them as such fun kids. They continue to blow me away by being amazing teens. I’m so proud of them, and I know they’re both going to be outstanding adults who I can’t wait to spend time with.
