When my youngest son, Jake, graduated from college, it marked the end of my days as the hands-on “mom” who handled everything from managing allowances to reminding him about appointments. Those years of making sure he got his car washed, wrote thank-you notes, and even ordered contact lenses were officially behind me.
Like any parent, I had countless moments that shaped Jake into the man he is today. I can still picture him at 18 months with his first pair of glasses, wearing a patch to preschool for a year, and undergoing surgeries to address his lazy eye. Then there was the day he started kindergarten at 5, making friends he still keeps in touch with. Fast forward to age 8, when he walked to school by himself for the first time, and at 14, when he hit a triple in his last little league game. I remember him at 15, saying goodbye to his beloved grandfather, and at 17, when he joined the varsity football team only to be sidelined by a stress fracture, cutting short what could’ve been his best sports season yet.
And there he was, almost 22 and close to graduation, with a job in hand that he absolutely loves. Honestly, if someone had told me four years earlier that he’d end up here, I might have doubted it. It wasn’t that he lacked talent or motivation; he just seemed a bit unfocused at the time. The day we dropped him off at college, watching my 6’2” son walk into his dorm, I felt a wave of concern wash over me. I knew it wouldn’t be a cakewalk. The academics were tough, the social scene was tricky, and the heat of the desert was relentless. Living in a dorm with a less-than-ideal roommate? That would send any mother into a tailspin.
My husband and I tried to anticipate every potential issue Jake might face, hovering like concerned helicopter parents throughout his life. Then came junior year, when he returned home to attend community college for a semester. After a period of soul-searching, he made the wisest decision yet: he decided to return to the university he had previously left. That’s when we finally made a smart move ourselves.
We stepped back. While we were always available for calls and never stopped worrying, we gave him the space to navigate his own path. It was like adjusting the focus on a pair of binoculars; suddenly, everything became clearer—not just for him, but for us as well.
As parents of older children, especially those who seem a bit lost, it’s vital we learn to trust them. We need to encourage them to carve out their own paths and let them learn from mistakes without rushing in to fix everything. By allowing them to discover what they’re passionate about, we help them grow stronger and more independent. The greatest gift we can offer is the freedom to forge their own way.
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In summary, letting our kids take charge of their lives is not just essential; it’s liberating for everyone involved.