Pecked to Death by College

My oldest kid just turned 18, is a senior in high school, and about to head off to college.

If you believe the stereotypes, I should be carrying tissues and weeping openly about how my baby is all grown up and leaving me. The truth is, I have never been much of a crier when it comes to my kids moving on to the next big thing. Sure, I cry like a baby when I am proud of them or when they perform anything on stage, but during their big life events, such as going to kindergarten or getting a driver’s license? Dry as a bone. I wasn’t heartbroken over “the last bath” or the “last book at bedtime.” I was honestly excited that they were finally doing that shit for themselves so I could go downstairs and eat some chocolate and watch a show.

Right now, however, I am being bombarded with a thousand small reminders that our lives are going to be markedly different soon. That kid is leaving for college, and it’s happening this calendar year. It’s like getting pecked to death by ducks, but I am getting pecked to death by pending adulthood. And the little stuff? Yeah, it’s little, but this is the stuff they didn’t prepare me for.

For example, the day my kid turned 18, I knew that I would no longer have access to their medical records without their permission. Fine. No sweat. I went to the health center at college when I turned 18 to get birth control pills, and it was a pleasure to not have my parents know that.

However, I didn’t think about what that would mean for, say, filling out forms for an upcoming school trip. Do I sign them? Does the kid? Who fills out the thing that says they are allowed to take medicine on the trip? Who does the doctor email that to? Who gets it notarized? I know my kiddo is a grown-ass person who is perfectly capable of filling out their own forms, but after years of knowing their medical history by heart and being the person to fill out permission slips, I am, very suddenly, no longer responsible for that. And pretty much never will be again, even though it has been one of my primary functions for almost two decades. I just didn’t really think about that. And now I have to feel feelings about it on a random Tuesday.

Another example: My kid went to the dentist this week. Checked themselves out of school, drove themselves there, had their own insurance card and everything. Great. Awesome. So mature. But, we didn’t know when to schedule their next dentist appointment because they would be at college. Do we want to go to the dentist at college or go to this dentist during the breaks? When are the breaks? When do they send out the class schedule or finals schedule or whatever? Wait … where WILL you be this time next year?

For the first time ever, I have literally no idea about my kid’s future schedule or whereabouts. Again, I didn’t really think about that, and I sure as hell didn’t think it would come up thanks to a teeth cleaning.

The last time I remember having this feeling — this seismic shift based on a little dumb thing you weren’t expecting — was pregnancy. So many things happen, and while the humans around you try to prepare you as best they can, the little things are what blow your mind. They told me at the doctor that I was pregnant, but they didn’t tell me that the first person I would tell out loud was the cashier at Barnes & Noble after checking out with $200 of baby name books. They told me my belly was measuring right at my due date, but they didn’t tell me that in the quiet space after you first wake up, your husband can put his mouth to that belly and talk, and the baby inside you will wake up and kick. They told me about what to expect during labor, but they didn’t tell me that after delivery, my feet might stay a size bigger, and I would have to throw out all of my shoes and rebuy them.
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Those are all cool experiences in retrospect, but in the moment, you just aren’t ready for them. They surprise you and they change you in both silly and serious ways.

That’s the lesson, of course. The big stuff in life? Eh, you knew that was coming. The real change happens on a random Tuesday. Congratulations on your new paradigm, pal. Your job now is to weather all the little duck pecks that feel like they could kill you and learn to embrace them and think on them fondly instead.

Right. Easy. Awesome. No sweat.
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I guess there is a bright side to all this change, though. When my kiddo goes to college, I won’t need to throw away and rebuy all my shoes. Good thing, because I won’t have the money after books and tuition anyway.