My firstborn kiddo turned 18 a few weeks ago. Legally a man, old enough to vote, old enough to fight for his country (not old enough to have a beer, but old enough to be trained to operate a thousand types of killing machines in service to his country. "The law is passion, free from reason." -Not Aristotle)... and old enough to leave home for college. Today, Eben graduates from high school. A couple of months from now, we'll drop him off at The Ohio State University where he'll begin studies as an Honors Program student in the Computer Science and Engineering Department of the College of Engineering.
Readers, I am so crazy proud of this kid. He's graduating 2nd in his class (by the merest fraction, he would want me to point out... only a thousandth of a point separates my Salutatorian from the Valedictorian). This boy worked his ass off and was offered admission to many competitive universities. Though he initially wanted to attend college a little further away from home, he wisely chose the school that offers a world-class program and a reasonable tuition. For those of you who, like Rick and I, put yourselves through college with student loans... you know what life is like when you graduate with mountains of debt. And it's worse now, because unless it's a state school, tuition is just STUPID. Of course, I understand that it's hard to provide scholarships to deserving students when you have to pay your university president $7 million, or give a $40 million package to a sports coach, but those choices on the part of pricey institutions mean they miss out on my superstar kid. Their loss. OSU is a kick-ass school, we couldn't be more impressed by Eben's maturity and wisdom in his choice, and we're so excited for him.
As all parents who've gone through it know, the college application/admission/decision process is not easy. But in a few short weeks comes the really hard part. I have to take my baby boy to college AND LEAVE HIM THERE. This is a state of affairs that I - and I'm sure countless other mothers of soon-to-be college freshmen - have labeled in my own head (and sometimes out loud to anyone within earshot) as "complete bullshit." An explanation:
This particular child-rearing milestone is, of course, the thing parents work towards. We raise a human child, we guide and teach, we bathe and clothe, we nourish and nurture, all towards this end. To have acquitted ourselves of the task of putting into the world a thoughtful, intelligent, kind, productive, ethical adult whose contributions will, we hope, amount to a better world. Whether our newly-independent adult children are headed to college or headed for other adventures, this is a ferociously pride-filled time for us all.
BUT. It's also another thing. It is absolutely, irrefutably, and horrifyingly The Actual Worst. You see, the humans we raise happen to be the loves of our lives. The idea of dropping off our loves in smelly dorm rooms, or watching them get on a plane, or just drive away towards Life Not At Home, means more than just not seeing them all the time, more than the absence of daily, visible proof of their health and well-being, more than missing their goofy banter with siblings or with the cat. It means heartbreak. And it's crushing. AND WE KNOW, okay? Mothers know this is the whole point, and it really, truly, is what we want, it's the way things are supposed to be. But oh my holy hell, I want to stop time. I want that to be my super power. I want that more than I've ever wanted anything, ever.
Alas... it seems to be impossible to will a time machine into existence. I know, because I'm the most willful person I've ever met and I've tried. So, absent any superpowers, or time machines, or even genie wishes, I'll just have to rely on the old standby available to women everywhere: the ability to "live through this," whatever this is, whatever comes. Superman could take lessons from women on what it means to be made of steel. We let huge foolish tears roll down our faces, and people look and shake their heads, thinking "What a ridiculous old woman. Get it together, lady." And we will -- just give us a minute, and we'll get it together, like nobody else can. And then we'll watch, with hearts at once shattered and glowing, as our nests begin to empty and our baby birds take flight.
To Eben - congratulations to you, my boy. You're more than ready for your next adventures, and I can't wait to watch you spread your wings. Just remember to land at home once in awhile to hug your weepy mama. I will always give you gas money.
