How To Drop Off Your College-Bounder Without Embarrassing Him (too much)

Think it's easy dropping that first kid off to college?

Ha! Here's a few tips on what to do and NOT do....

Here's your Biggest and most important tip:

Bring tissues.

 Lots and LOTS of tissues. But don't use them in front of said darling. Of course you knew it wasn't going to be easy. After all, you did your homework, got all those neat things at your favorite collegiate-scam-I-mean-well-priced accoutrement store, did the check-list thing and even sneaked in some money to her when you thought the other parental unit wasn't looking.

Don't worry. He did it too. Win-win for the kid!

Anyway, Emily's trip from Long Island to Ithaca was a looong five-hour car ride. Now, I love being with my family unit. But I'm not overly fond of long car trips.

Okay, I hate them and knew that I wasn't going to be one of those "every-other-weekend-we'll-come-visit-cuz-it's-ONLY-five-hours!" parent.

Now, my husband, a regular Eagle Scout (hey, I have pictures to prove it) loooves long car rides. I say Goddess bless all those types, and welcome to the long haul. Have fun!

So I was prepared to pack plenty of tissues since I KNEW I would not be one of those constantly visitng  parents.

Em and I purchased all the cool dorm style crap they sell and advertised incessantly on the tube the month prior, and we set up her infinitesimally-sized closet-space room quite nicely. Matching sheets, check, sheet sets, check, and so on. Too bad we could barely squeeze her essentials under the bed in those long under-the-bed storage plastic bins they also sell at those all-purpose stores.

Her bed looked like a toddler's crib without the bars and I wondered what the hell the purpose was in selling "college-length extra-long" sheet sets? Then the almighty dollar sign flashed in front of me and I figured it out. Another way to cash in on the nervously spending college-bound parents who didn't know what to buy and leave out.

The second kid is MUCH easier, trust me on that.

So we stored her stuff, barely able to squeeze past one another AND close the door. This poor child o' mine had to SHARE this crawl-space with a stranger? Sheesh. Talk about instant bonding or instant loathing. Crash course in "getting to know your stranger who shares your room" time. Made me almost glad I went to a commuter college. Although, that could explain my problem with sleepovers to this day. That's for me and my therapist. Sorry to digress.

It was going as planned, we unpacked, she was acting all nervous, as expected, and I started to feel the familiar welling up sensations and inevitable lumpy throat. "Time to hit the road" we all agreed.

We said some quick goodbyes, after a rushed visit to the college store where we bought more stuff--a sweatshirt, extra whatevers, just to prolong the visit a wee more. It was a cool campus and kinda hard to leave. We kept thinking, "How could we possibly be old enough to have a kid in college?" Yeah, yeah, yeah. Nothing like a little self-delusion to set your mind right.

Another tip: when you get home and come to your senses (and stop crying), and you like to write, why not contact the editor of the Alumni Magazine if you like, and see if they'd be game for an essay on "My First Child Is Going to College --Wah"! It's a great way for your kid to get some cred on campus. Well, probably will be made fun of, but hey, tough love! Worked for me. And I even scored another column when Em graduated--so now I have a couple of nice features about Em being a frosh (campus lingo for "freshman"--like you didn't know) and a bona fide Grad story!

So. Time to hit the loooong way home. Do your proper, civilized goodbyes, and promise to head up anytime there's a call for it. Or at least "promise" that one representative of the family will. (Usually not me.)

Than allow yourself one backward glance before the eye-swelling becomes contagious and get the hell out of there, waving and grinning like the idiots you feel you are. Yes, we all go through it and somehow come through intact. And most importantly, so do they.

Now, safely ensconced in the sanctuary of your car, start playing all the sentimental CDs you brought, whip out the Mega-Sized Box O' Tissues and blow your nose and cry your eyes out while singing or stammering through the college-bounder's favorite Raffi songs.

It made me feel much, much better. I mean, you'll feel much, much better.

And if you have another one at home, try not to smother him too much all at once. You have a couple years, perhaps, to be a better parent, really focus on his needs and start planning what you'll be doing with all the extra room.

On second thought, don't plan too much. Next stage is called "Boomerang Babies." And from that, I know far too much.

Happy Trails!