To offer some background, I am a single parent whose failures have built in me enough confidence to fit on the tip of a fine point pen. Not exactly someone from whom you’d expect to take advice! However, my greatest accomplishment and the source of virtually all my pride comes from having single-handedly raised two very strong, smart and savvy young people who are very different from myself. It is from that visceral place of trust in them and delight at having raised them that I feel even slightly qualified to offer the following advice.
When your high school senior dreams of a distant college, a most unique university mascot and scholarship opportunities tinted in hues of garnet and black, let them. When they scoff at your suggestions of an in-state college far closer and more practical, let them. When they visit their grandparents after USC’s open house, wearing a baseball cap embroidered “Cocks,” let them. My son knew in his core that despite — or maybe even because of — his mother’s wishes to keep him close, he would willingly be beckoned from the shores of a Great Lake, escorted beyond the Mason-Dixon Line, lulled by a Carolinian moon and embraced by the 803 — a cocky little town that measures a person’s moral fiber by their taste in BBQ and belief in the SEC. Let them.
When your child, just one day into campus life, blocks you on Twitter, don’t just let them, thank them. It’s better this way.
When your college freshman tells you they won’t be home for Thanksgiving, that they’re going to their buddy’s home, but they’ll be home for Christmas, let them. It may — no, it will — require a well-practiced voice masquerading in positivity and encouragement, but let them. Christmas is not so far away.
When your child experiences setbacks with roommates, RAs, fraternities and FAFSAs, but they reassure you they’ll handle it, let them. This, parents, is the bittersweet dance of letting go and sooner than we’re ready. We all take a spin on the dance floor.
When your child resorts to eating ramen noodles and buttered bread for a week because they lost their wallet, again, let them. It won’t be easy, and the next time they visit you’ll grill them a steak to compensate for it, but let them.
When you attend your first big USC sporting event, and your child drags you to the student tailgate section, let them. When they hand you the cheapest form of alcohol and instruct you to “take a pull," let them. When they drag you onto a U-Haul for a few chords of a Darius Rucker song, let them. When they put a picture of you sporting the Gamecock talon on Instagram, roll your eyeballs and let them. Okay, clearly, this scenario is far too specific to my personal experience, but when they are ready to redefine their relationship with you and introduce you to aspects of their own life and lifestyle, let them. Even if their way is not your way, stifle as much criticism as you can and let them.
When you prepare to leave and they hug you goodbye a little longer than normal, let them. Stuff a few bucks in their pocket, take faith they’ll spend it well, and pray they’ll take good care of themselves. When they say goodbye and their farewell is filled with conflicted feelings of anticipation for your departure and longing for your comforting presence, know that it’s okay and let them.
When you spot them in the rearview mirror, take heart in knowing that every day they are becoming a truer version of themselves. Maybe it would have happened in Happy Valley, Morgantown, Annapolis or Ann Arbor, but they are making it happen right here in Cola. Know that you’ve done well, and just let them.