Letting Them Go

Christine — Thu, 03 Apr 2008 06:02:29 +0000

It’s late and I’m tired, but I can’t go to bed. In two hours (at 2:30am) I will be dropping my baby (who has somehow morphed in to this sometimes mouthy, but still lovable thirteen-year-old boy) off at school so he can ride a bus to Chicago and then board a plane to Washington D.C. for a class trip. He and his 8th grade classmates are going to Washington D.C. to see some of the things they’ve been learning about this year in their American History class. They will be exploring the White House and the National Archives, sitting at Lincoln’s feet at the Lincoln Memorial and hanging out at museums and Arlington Cemetery. He’ll be sharing a hotel room with three friends with a couple college students and teachers roaming the floor to make sure they stay out trouble. He’s so excited. I’m a basketcase.

I’m sort of an over-protective mom. I like to know where my kids are all the time. The teenagers tend to frown on this. They would like to have their own space. I know they need their independence. I know to be a responsible mother I have to give them their independence to prepare them for their future. But it’s hard to let go. Last night I was hugging him before bed and I literally didn’t want to let go. He said, “Um. Ok Mom. You can let go now.” And tonight (or, um, this morning I guess) I have to let him go 1,000 miles away from home. Without me. Hold me.

For me (at least so far…knock on wood) this has been the hardest part of teenagerhood; the letting go. Will he make good decisions? Will he follow the rules? Will he stick with his group? Will he remember to put on clean socks? Will he eat something besides chocolate for lunch? I guess I’ll find out on Sunday when he comes home.

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Letting Them Go

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Letting Them Go