![\"\"](\"http:\/\/southoldlocal.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/09\/Nigro_hed_badge_500.jpg\" "\\"Nigro_hed_badge_500\\"\/"){kind=icon}
<\/a><\/div>\nThe five stages of letting my child go away. Far away. Like, multiple states away. Where I can\u2019t be there to console, rescue, and\/or feed him in a reasonable amount of time.<\/p>\n
I\u2019ve always loved to travel. I love seeing and experiencing new places and have always taken every opportunity to go just about anywhere. And I was never picky about who chaperoned or how I got there. I was happy to hitch a ride with one of my numerous aunts and uncles, even offering childcare in return for room and board \u2014 one of the benefits of having 4,108 cousins. Someone was always looking to get away from one or two for a few minutes or days. I traveled with friend\u2019s families and even got excited for school trips. To this day, I rarely miss an opportunity to get out there and explore.<\/p>\n
I always say my biggest regret was not studying abroad in college and have spent years repeating that to my no-longer-listening children. Take the chance! Go after the opportunity! At no other point in your life will you be able to spend months immersing yourself in another culture! I mean, unless one of them is the next Bill Gates (and listen, I love my kids and they\u2019re pretty great, but no one\u2019s sneaking out of bed to build computers in my garage, so I\u2019m thinking it\u2019s not going to happen), the likelihood of having the disposable income to vacation for half a year in another country is low.<\/p>\n
It all sounded like such great advice. And then I was dropping off my first born, in the wee hours of the morning, so he could board an airplane without me, and I nearly threw up. When I finally had him back in my house , FIVE WHOLE DAYS later, I had to endure merciless ridicule as he and his father laughed at my relief. It was expected from my son. After all, I, too, was a teenager once. I, too, felt invincible. I, too, thought my parents ridiculous (and a little sad) when they worried about me.<\/p>\n But my husband? Et tu, Brute?<\/em> We\u2019re in this together. Didn\u2019t he also feel like someone had carved out a chunk of his amygdala? Didn\u2019t he also consider that planes can crash? Didn\u2019t he also notice that the boy-smell was dissipating from our child\u2019s room? Like he had never been there? Like he was being erased from our lives??<\/p>\n OK, maybe he didn\u2019t notice that last part. But I was truly shocked by his lax attitude. I considered his bizarre betrayal and came to the conclusion that only one of two things were possible; either he doesn\u2019t love our child as much as I do, or, moms just feel these things differently. I mean, the kid was literally attached to me for nine months. That\u2019s when I realized that I had just been through the five stages of mother\/child separation. It may not be a scientific thing, but I can attest that it is as real as, well, scientific stuff.<\/p>\n Stage one: This is the part when I first found out the trip was happening. It was a great honor. He and his classmates had won a statewide contest. This qualified them to move forward, to compete again, at an international level. The pride! The joy! I was overcome with all of it. This is the most dangerous stage. This is when I say things like, \u201cHow great!\u201d and, \u201cLet me help fundraise!\u201d There is a lot of enthusiasm. The trip is far off and still a little unreal. I get wrapped up in the idea of it but don\u2019t actually consider the implications \u2014 like airplanes.<\/p>\n Stage two: This stage comes 48 to 72 hours prior to departure. Final checklists and itineraries are sent home. I begin to think of many, many questions that I have for the teacher. But, the pre-packing shopping trip is in sight and anticipation of spending some quality time in the travel-sized toiletries section distracts me. I beeline it to the aisle. \u201cThe world is your oyster! Pick any of the tiny, oddly fun, boxes, bottles and containers that your heart desires!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI just need shampoo and soap. Maybe toothpaste if we don\u2019t have any from the dentist.\u201d \u201cUmm. What? You don\u2019t want to look through all these bins?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cUmm. What? You don\u2019t want to look through all these bins?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOh. (I pause and stare at him. He looks back at me, baffled by my emotional investment in travel-sized products.) Ok. Which shampoo?\u201d \u201cWhichever one will get my hair clean.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI see. What about conditioner? Do you need conditioner.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAre you sure you want just soap? Maybe you want some body wash?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo.\u201d \u201cLittle packs of tissues? Mouthwash? A brush that folds into itself with a mirror for a handle?!?\u201d<\/p>\n At that point, he had walked away. He may have left the store entirely. So I filled my sad-basket with one tiny shampoo, one bar of soap, and one tube of toothpaste. (Yes, of course, I had ones at home from the dentist, but he had already robbed me of so much joy, I deserved that freaking Colgate.)<\/p>\n Stage three: This stage covers the 24 hours prior to departure. I am slightly panicky. Multiple emails to the teacher are written and then deleted. I realize there is no dress code, no article of clothing that will identify this group in particular, nothing to separate them from the thousands of other teenagers roaming free. I consider having him tattooed. I also consider hiding him in the basement until after the flight leaves. Instead, I go spend a small fortune on school name clothing. God forbid they lose him in the airport, at least someone will know where he\u2019s from. Never mind that everyone in the entire country has cell phones and also that my child will be old enough to drive in a few short weeks so should probably be trusted to be at least somewhat responsible for his own well-being. What if he gets amnesia? Then what??<\/p>\n I tell him to pack his bag three times. He waits until nine hours before I am to drop him off. I am hovering like a neurotic hummingbird on cocaine. Then I look through, disapprove, and repack the whole thing. When bedtime comes, I tell him to set his alarm but don\u2019t trust that he will, or that if he does, it won\u2019t work, or if it works, that he will sleep through it. I set my alarm and check it three times before I turn off the light.<\/p>\n Too few hours later, his alarm does go off and he does get up and I am staring at the ceiling contemplating the terrible decision I have made. And yet, I also know this is what I\u2019ve spent the last decade and a half preparing him to do. Go forth. See the world. Be amazing. Jesus. I\u2019m a moron. When he hops out of the car less than an hour later, with an unusual pep in the step for pre-4 a.m., I don\u2019t cry. I\u2019m not one of those moms. Instead, I try not to dry-heave. Unfortunately, I am one of those moms.<\/p>\n Stage four: This stage covers the time he is away \u2014 the many, many days he is either on an airplane or in another state. The first day is the worst. I require check-ins at each airport and then visual evidence that he has landed alive. I promise that I will be less crazy for the rest of the trip. And as far as he knew, I was. I restrained myself to one \u201cgood morning\u201d text per day. I didn\u2019t even react when the only response was the tiny \u201cread at 7:23 a.m.\u201d along the bottom of the screen. I didn\u2019t email the teacher for updates. I didn\u2019t ask for a video chat. I didn\u2019t call the hotel in the middle of the night to make sure he was in the room.<\/p>\n I consoled myself by corresponding with the other moms. We would piece together the days by comparing communications.<\/p>\n \u201cDid you get anything today?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI texted this morning, but no response.\u201d \u201cI heard from another mom that they\u2019re tired.\u201d<\/p>\n I was really very proud of myself for not requiring more frequent communication and\/or a daily journal.<\/p>\n Stage five: The last stage is the most complex. This is the homecoming. I\u2019m jittery and nervous. I suppose that also may have been the three espressos I had before breakfast. I check the clock every 11 minutes and my texts increase exponentially. I know when the plane left. I know when it touched down. I know when they are leaving the airport. I get to the school early. I try (and fail) not to jump out of the car as soon as the bus pulls in. But I don\u2019t hug him or even squeal. I simply say, \u201cHey!\u201d like the cool mom that I am not and put his bags in the car.<\/p>\n So imagine my surprise when, as I was driving him home to his cleaned room and warmed lunch, he commented, \u201cWhat are you going to do when I go to college?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat do you mean? I was so good! I only texted once per morning! For the love of God, I didn\u2019t even say good-night!\u201d \u201cYeah, I know. But there was an uncomfortable level of emoji usage.\u201d<\/p>\n I guess that means I will not be invited to stay in his dorm room? Whatever. He made it home alive. My adrenaline has settled to pre-departure levels and I only needed two days to recover from the extended manic state. Now I have more than two years to prepare for college. It\u2019s good to know we have so many quality universities in the tri-state, no-plane-needed, area.<\/p>\n By then, I\u2019ll have stockpiled kegs of nerve tonic. Herbalmusings.com<\/a> shared a great recipe (with a fitting name):<\/p>\n Mom\u2019s Last Nerve Tonic a Mountain Rose Herbs<\/p>\n Recipe Ingredients: Directions: You can make your own individual herb tinctures and mix them according to the ratio above, or blend pre-made tinctures in a glass dropper bottle. Take 3 droppers up to three times a day. Mountain Rose Herbs explains how each of these herbs works and also sells the tinctures. Check out their blog<\/a> on nervines and adaptogens.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n
2 parts organic Milky Oat Tops tincture
1 part organic Skullcap tincture
1 part organic Holy Basil tincture