Watching your teen pack for freshman year of college
My oldest, Steven, is packing for his freshman year of college.
That is, he is supposed to be packing for college.
We leave in less than 24 hours. His room and desk area have been torn apart for days, and it doesn’t seem to bother him. For the past day or two, he has spent more time than usual sitting in the dark playing a video game.
“I know I have to pack,” he tells me. “It’s under control! It’s my life! Don’t you think I want to be ready?”
Then the killer: “If you would stop bugging me, maybe I’d do it!”
I am trying to be tolerant and not get into a battle with him. My sister warned me that one of the ways teens deal with this separation is by being meaner than usual during their final days. After all, it’s easier to be thinking “I’m finally out of there!” instead of “I miss my family.”
Steven finally started to move when he asked if he could spend much of his last day with his girlfriend. I told him yes, he could go, but under two conditions. First of all, he joins us for a last family dinner. Second, he can’t go visiting until the van is actually packed.
Somehow that was the magic he needed to be motivated. It’s as if Mary Poppins appeared, or is it Samantha from Bewitched?
Whoever it was, the van is suddenly almost packed.
We leave tomorrow morning. It really shouldn’t be a big deal. After all, we haven’t seen Steven much in the last year since he now has his license, a girlfriend, and a summer job. Also, he’ll be less than two hours away, and is coming home for a long weekend almost immediately.
Yet this is symbolic and bittersweet in so many ways. First of all, I have just gotten over
the emotions of watching him graduate. In addition, my only other child got her driver's license this week, and will be going away herself a year from now.
All summer, “Is This the Little Boy I Carried? Is This the Little Boy at Play?” from Fiddler on the Roof has been going through my head.
My sister posted some of the lyrics from a Crosby, Stills and Nash song that went through her head last week as she brought her daughter to college.
Teach Your Children Well
la la la
You, who are on the road
Must have a code
That you can live by.
la la la (yes, I admit that I am crying as I type this)
And so, become yourself
Because the past
Is just a goodbye.
la la la
Don’t you ever ask them why
If they told you, you would cry
So just look at them and sigh
And know they love you.
Goodbye and good luck to a wonderful son who has so much going for him!
See: