There are certain milestones in motherhood that nobody adequately prepares you for.
- The first day of kindergarten.
- The first time they drive away alone.
- Graduation.
And then there is college drop-off, where you spend approximately three months shopping, organizing, making lists, buying things you did not know humans needed, and pretending you are completely fine.
Then you drive away from a dorm parking lot crying into a Starbucks cup while your child is upstairs thinking:
Finally. Welcome to college move-in day.
Also known as the day your child begins an exciting new chapter of life while you begin wondering why nobody warned you that an empty bedroom could feel so freaking loud.
First, We Must Buy Everything Target Has Ever Sold
Preparing a child for college begins innocently enough.
- Sheets.
- Towels.
- A laundry basket.
- Maybe a desk lamp.
Then suddenly you’re standing in Target with two shopping carts containing a mattress topper, storage bins, Command hooks, a tiny vacuum, shower shoes, six decorative pillows, extension cords, snacks, a fan, a Brita pitcher and something called a “bedside caddy.”
The total flashes on the screen. You briefly wonder whether purchasing a small condominium near campus would have been cheaper.
And somehow, despite spending enough money to furnish a small beachfront condo, you will still forget something. Probably the thing they need first.
Welcome to the Dorm Room Decorating Competition
Move-in day arrives. You walk into a room approximately the size of your laundry room and think:
Thousands of dollars a month for THIS?
There are two beds, two desks, two closets and lighting that makes everyone look like they are being questioned by the FBI.
But fear not. Because Mom has arrived. Within three hours, we are transforming Cell Block B into something worthy of Instagram.
The comforter goes on. The rug goes down. Pictures get hung. Pillows are arranged. The mini fridge is stocked.
Someone’s dad is sweating profusely while attempting to loft a bed using an Allen wrench and language not approved by the university. By the time you’re done, the room looks adorable.
Take pictures. Take LOTS of pictures.
Because this is the last time you will ever see this room clean.
Within approximately 48 hours, there will be wet towels on the floor, half-empty coffee cups on the desk, laundry forming its own ecosystem and a bowl containing something nobody is brave enough to identify.
That beautiful dorm-room photo? Frame it. It is historical documentation.
While You’re Fluffing Pillows, Do the Boring Parent Stuff Too
Yes, the room needs to look cute. But before you leave, make sure your child knows a few things that have absolutely nothing to do with throw pillows.
Find the nearest hospital or urgent care. Locate a convenient drugstore or pharmacy. Find the closest grocery store.
Figure out whether the school has a campus shuttle or bus system, where it goes and how late it runs. Make sure they know where campus health services are.
Find out where they can get help if they lose their student ID, lock themselves out of the dorm or discover at 11:47 p.m. that they have absolutely no idea how to use a washing machine.
Also, make sure important phone numbers are actually stored in their phone.
Because “I’ll just Google it” is not necessarily the strategy you want them using during an emergency.
And while we’re discussing preparation…
JOIN THE COLLEGE PARENT FACEBOOK GROUP
I cannot stress this enough. If your child’s college or university has an official or unofficial parent Facebook group, join it. Immediately.
These groups can be incredibly helpful for move-in information, campus questions, recommendations and those weird little things you’re afraid to call the university and ask. College parent communities are already heavily sharing move-in advice and dorm information this season.
But let me prepare you. There will also be drama. Ohhhh, there will be drama.
Someone will ask: “Does anyone know if Johnson Hall has microwaves?” Twenty-seven helpful parents will answer.
Then someone will somehow turn the microwave discussion into a debate about meal plans, parking permits, tuition, politics and why their child deserves a better dorm assignment.
Another parent will post: “My son hasn’t texted me since yesterday. Should I call his RA?”
Ma’am. Your son is fine. Your son is probably eating pizza at 1 a.m. with six people whose last names he does not yet know.
Give him a minute. The parent Facebook group will become your source for important announcements, restaurant recommendations, airport transportation, football tickets and neighborhood warnings.
It will also become your favorite reality show. Proceed accordingly.
Your Kid Is Ready for This Even If You Aren’t
Here’s where college drop-off gets complicated. Your child is excited. And they should be. They have spent years getting to this moment. For them, college represents independence. New friends. New experiences.
No parent asking, “Where are you going?” as they walk toward the front door. They are ready to build a life that belongs a little more to them.
Meanwhile, you’re standing there thinking:
But who is going to remind you to take your allergy medicine?
The answer is nobody. And that’s kind of the point. We spend 18 years teaching them how to eventually need us less. Then they start needing us less and we’re like:
EXCUSE ME. THAT WAS NOT THE AGREEMENT.
But Excited Kids Can Still Get Homesick
Here’s something parents sometimes forget. Your child can be thrilled to go to college and still miss home. Both things can be true.
They might love their roommate, their classes and their newfound freedom and still suddenly miss their dog, their bed, your cooking or just the feeling of knowing exactly where they belong.
Homesickness doesn’t mean they made the wrong decision. It doesn’t mean college isn’t working. Sometimes it just means home was a pretty good place to grow up.
And although every parental instinct may scream:
I WILL COME GET YOU RIGHT NOW. I AM ALREADY IN THE CAR.
Sometimes what they need is simply: “I know. The beginning is hard. Give yourself some time.” And maybe a care package. Because apparently nothing says unconditional maternal love, like shipping somebody $38 worth of snacks they could have purchased themselves.
Then Comes The Goodbye
Eventually, the beds are made. The Target bags are empty. The roommate has arrived. You’ve asked approximately nine times whether they have their keys. There is nothing left to organize. And you know what that means.
It’s time to go. This is the moment you’ve been avoiding all day. You hug them. Maybe they hug you a little longer than usual. Maybe they don’t. Maybe they’re excited and distracted because people are waiting for them.
And suddenly you realize that while you’re experiencing one of the biggest emotional moments of your life… they have somewhere to be.
Which is exactly what you wanted. And exactly what hurts. You walk toward the car. Do NOT turn around.
You will turn around. There they are.
Your baby.
Except they’re not babies anymore.
They’re standing in front of a college dorm, ready to start figuring out who they are without you standing ten feet away reminding them to take a jacket. And your heart somehow manages to break and swell with pride at exactly the same time.
Parenthood is rude like that.
And Then You Get in the Car
The doors close. Nobody speaks for approximately 45 seconds. Then one parent says something brilliant like: “Well…that sucked.” And the tears come. Maybe immediately. Maybe five miles down the road. Maybe when you get home and notice their shoes aren’t by the door. Maybe when you instinctively start making enough dinner for everyone.
Maybe when you walk past their bedroom and realize nothing in that room is moving.
This transition can bring parents a strange combination of sadness, grief, pride, loneliness, relief and even excitement about what’s ahead. That emotional tug-of-war is a very real part of becoming an empty nester.
You miss them. But also… the bathroom stays cleaner. The grocery bill drops. Nobody steals your charger. You can watch whatever you want on television. And there are suddenly leftovers.
So, let’s not pretend there aren’t benefits.
We’re emotional, not insane.
Don’t Turn Their Bedroom Into a Yoga Studio Yet
There will come a moment approximately 72 hours after drop-off when you look at the empty bedroom and think:
You know what would look great in here?
- A craft room.
- An office.
- A yoga studio.
- A margarita lounge.
- Control yourself.
They are coming back.
Probably sooner than you think.
And when they do, they will bring laundry. Mountains of it. They will walk through the front door, hug you, open the refrigerator and say: “There’s nothing to eat.” And suddenly the nest will feel very full again. Possibly too full.
Something Else Happens When They Leave
For years, so much of your identity may have revolved around raising kids.
- Schedules.
- Practices.
- School.
- Doctor appointments.
- Homework.
- College applications.
- Driving.
- So. Much. Driving.
Then suddenly there’s space.
And at first, space can feel like loss. But eventually, maybe it starts to feel a little like opportunity. What do you want to do now? Travel? Take a class? Start something? Reconnect with your spouse? Reconnect with yourself? Sit silently on the couch eating cheese while nobody asks you for anything?
There are no wrong answers.
Your child starting a new chapter doesn’t mean your story just ended. Maybe you get a new chapter too. Preferably one with better sleep and cocktails.
A Few Things to Do Before You Drive Away
Before you officially leave your newly independent adult to run their own life, make sure you’ve covered a few basics:
- Hospital or urgent care location
- Campus health center
- Closest pharmacy
- Closest grocery store
- Campus shuttle/bus information
- Emergency campus numbers
- Student ID replacement information
- Basic banking and money access
- How prescriptions will be refilled
- Where important health insurance information is stored
- How they’ll get home for breaks
- A plan for what constitutes an actual emergency versus “Mom, how long do chicken nuggets go in the air fryer?”
Then hug them. Tell them you’re proud of them. Tell them they can call you anytime. And then…
Go.
Even though every fiber of your being wants to stay.
The Empty Nest Isn’t Really Empty
Here’s the part nobody tells you. They leave. But the relationship doesn’t. It changes.
They begin calling you because they want to tell you something instead of because you’re standing in the kitchen asking questions.
You’ll hear about roommates. Professors. New friends. Terrible cafeteria food. The class they love. The class they absolutely should have dropped. And one day the phone will ring and they’ll say:
“Mom, can I ask you something?” And there it is. You are still Mom. You just don’t have to pack their lunch anymore.
So yes, cry when you leave the parking lot. Cry all the way home if you need to. Be sad. Be proud. Be excited for them. Miss them terribly. Then pour yourself a margarita and raise your glass.
You did it. You raised a human who was brave enough to leave home. And hopefully smart enough to know where the nearest CVS is.
Cheers to the empty nest. It’s quieter than we expected. A little sadder than we expected. And after we get used to it… possibly not half bad.
Peace, Love & Margaritas
FYI, I am the mom of two men who graduated college and we are all still family. 😊You can do it!
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