When they were little, I did everything I could to keep my children safe. Cabinet locks, straps to keep the dresser from falling on them, bike helmets, mouthguards, outlet covers. The list of things we do to keep our kids from harm is long.
Now, as they move out of my home, my nest of protection, the list is still long, but it is varied and often intangible. The things I need to keep them safe from are primarily out of my reach. My brain knows that. My heart is slow to catch up.
I cried after I dropped my oldest son off
After moving my oldest into his dorm room for the first time, 900 miles away, I sat in my empty van and cried in the parking structure for 20 minutes. At the time, I felt like I was missing a part of my soul. His wouldn’t be a face I saw daily. I didn’t know how I would cope.
The first summer he did not come home was long and I often thought about what he would be doing. When the inevitable girl appeared in his life, I was happy for him. When that girl shattered his confidence and left him struggling with emotions he didn’t know how to deal with, I was worried.
I tried to protect him from afar, even sending campus police to his apartment for a wellness check. I was terrified of the thoughts he shared with me. I had no safety net near by to place below him, to catch him when he fell.
My son bounced back from a relationship break up
Resilience is the superpower of the young. My son bounced back with gusto and I admired his “grown up” skills. I am proud of him. He knows when to put on the outlet covers to keep himself safe.
My second son is the kid most able to leave my home and not need me for protection. He’s always been able to take care of himself. After we kept him from serious injury his entire childhood, he is well equipped to handle himself.
My second son didn’t really need me
The morning he left for college, 1000 miles away, I was a mess. He laughed at me and hugged me. And then he was gone. He just graduated from that college and is now 1300 miles from me for medical school.
The things he needs are physical things: insurance cards, car insurance documents, a new iPad. He won’t be home for a while. He has his own outlet covers but he probably won’t need them, they are there “just in case”.
My middle son had medical issues and needed some support
The middle child. My most congenial kid. The one that I worry about the most physically. He has some medical issues that are potentially serious. When he announced that his college of choice was a brief hour from our home, that breath I’d been holding since his junior year of high school was let loose.
He’s a natural leader, the concern he shows for others makes me proud. In the house he shares with five friends, I’m fairly confident the stash of outlet covers he has is to share. He knows where his safe zone is. He can be back to me in an hour. I can still help guide him to safety but he is more than capable of doing it himself. I’m just assurance that he’s doing it right.
I’ve been reckless with the safety protocol for my youngest children
My youngest, twins, are about to start their senior year of high school. I admit to being reckless with my safety protocol for them. The guilt I experience when I think of all that I should’ve done is huge, but it is like a shadow at the back of my brain. They’ve seen it all. They are as different from each other as possible. One loquacious and a strong sense of who she is and one reserved, determined and quiet, not willing to let his emotions show. My outlet covers are still in place in our home. They just know not to put their fingers in the outlet.
Soon, my husband and I will be alone in this house we built for our family. We will sell it and take the memories with us. We will move somewhere warm and smaller near an ocean and hope our children will come visit.
I will always, ALWAYS be thinking of their safety. I don’t know what else to do, I’ve done it for the past 24 years.
I have people fooled that I’m okay with my kids leaving home
I have people fooled. They think I am fine with the dwindling size of my household. I play a good game. They don’t know that at least once a week I have a good cry about my babies not being babies.
Parenting is hard work. It’s not for the weak. I’m positive I’m still not doing it well. We’ve raised our kids to not need us. No one gave me the handbook on me not needing them.
I have a house full of outlet covers, all of which are not needed anymore, but still there. In case of what, I’m not sure, but they are for me. They are my reminder that I have five kids out there that I think of every minute of the day and hope that they are living the life they want and are happy. That I kept them in my arms safely and gave them to the world with all the resources they need so that one day, they will put the outlet covers on for the safety of those they choose to love and raise.
That’s all I can ask for.
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