Parenting books are stupid. Just going to put that out there. With all of their good advice on surviving their raising with the intent to (hopefully) not raise complete heathens scarred for life that turn around and raise more scarred heathens, they leave out the biggest part, the hardest part. Your job as a parent is to let go. Every day until it culminates into the Grand Event. The ultimate letting go when they leave your home and move into their own place.

Today was that day. While I had this idea in my head that we would all go together, various boxes in tow, and walk into his new place… their new place… and stand in the room to just take it all in for a moment. A little bit of sadness and a little bit of “you did it mama and daddy”.

I would think back to the day a 17 and 18 year old brought home a bitty 8 pound 8 ounce baby boy without a clue in the world as to what we were doing but knowing nobody else really knew what they were doing either. We are all winging it with this on the job training gig.

I would think back to all the moments that should have slowly been preparing me for this moment. The last time he would sleep in our bed before moving to his own bed and then into his own room. The last time he needed me to rub his back after a bad dream. The last cup of milk I had to pour for him before he could pour his own. The last baseball game before he decided he didn’t want to do that anymore. The last time I had to argue with him over doing his math before he took over his own schooling. The last time I had to drive him to work before he drove himself. The last time he had to ask for permission for staying out late. The last time he would ramble on about all of the days happenings. The last breakfast I made him before he got married, admittedly clinging to the last little string, they weren’t moving out for a few months. The last time all of our children slept under the same roof.

The difference would be clear in my head. For most of the letting go, you don’t realize it had happened until it was done, maybe weeks or even months had passed before the realization hits. There are only a few times in life when you are keenly aware, in the moment, that this is the last time before a new normal begins to take shape. If you were aware, you would want to hold onto that moment and all it contained for just a little bit longer.

I would think forward to all that was to come. When he would want me to help him figure out some new adult problem he wasn’t sure about. Or weighing the pros and cons of some big decision. Or the inevitable less than ideal choice we all make, we’d have to bite our tongues and then figure out if we step in or let the pieces fall where they will. Or when he gazes at his own newborn and wonders how he’s going to do this. And reminding him that he was made for this. That he was fearfully and wonderfully made for such a time as this, keep God at your center and rest in Him.

I would remind myself that I had more time with my child than most parents could ever dream. I was with him 24/7 for most of his first 18 years. Being a homeschooling home centered family facilitated that. I would think of the things I wish I could have done better or earlier and pray that God stepped in and covered the gaps. I would think about the last 2 years how he was still in and out all the time when he could have moved out at any time. And how even after he was married 5 months ago, I still got to be involved in a tangible daily way.

I would look around and say this place is lovely and it wouldn’t take long for them to make it a home. And then take my box to the appropriate room and begin to busy myself, a distraction from the tears, and wonder where is this part in any parenting book?

But that’s not how it happened. And I have to be ok with that because good job mama and daddy, you raised an independent adult who is ready to take on the world. Letting go.

For right now, I am allowing myself to feel the sadness. The happy can come in the morning. And that’s ok. Good job mama and daddy, you made it.