As for our own communal possessions,  Jared and I were very fair as well. As positive divorces go, we are the poster parents. I got the wedding china because he didn’t care, and he got all of the Spanish cookbooks, because I know how much he enjoyed them. Photo albums were a bit more of a challenge, but easily remedied by making doubles. One year for Christmas I made Jared copies of all of our home movies. But what about things that cannot be duplicated? Like the kids’ art work?  Jared and I recently arrived at a very creative solution to what otherwise could have been an uncomfortable and difficult decision for our youngest daughter, Eva.

Eva's Flower

Eva is an extremely talented artist. At the end of last semester, she brought home her art portfolio of work to my house, with the exception of one truly magnificent chalk pastel of a flower that she gave to her father. Jared had the piece framed and asked me if I had seen it. I didn’t know anything about it. One day, when he was dropping Eva off from her weekend at his house, Jared brought it in to show me. I was stunned by its beauty and the exquisite attention to detail. It was so life-like I thought it was a photograph. Eva was beaming with pride while she watched her parents admire her work. It was at that moment that Jared came up with the idea that we would share “Eva’s Flower” by taking turns hanging it in our house, like art collections that are shared by various museums. At the moment it is “on loan” to me where it is prominently displayed in my dining room. Just in time for the holidays.

And that’s a good thing.

I don’t think it is healthy for her or for me to get too involved in what she is going. She’s an adult. I don’t need to know every detail of her life.

I mention this because there is a slew of kids from our town who are attending Sophia’s college and the mom of one of these students approached me at the parent’s orientation to ask for all of my contact information to add to a list she is creating as a support network for kids from the area. At first I thought it was a good idea, sort of, but I was reluctant to participate and I discussed my feelings with Paul. He agreed and  reasoned, “Isn’t it up to the kids at this age to coordinate their own rides home and make their own connections?”

He’s right. Formulating a class list is simply an extension of elementary and middle school  room parenting procedures and, and in my opinion, a bit much. At this point, we need to allow our children to fend for themselves and cultivate their own relationships.

This brings me to my next point, which is helicopter parents who live vicariously through their kids by continuing to micromanage their lives. For example, I once had a chance encounter in a hair salon with a mom who flooded me with details of her daughter’s freshman year in college.  Not only did she orchestrate her daughter’s haircut (if that wasn’t bizarre enough), she overwhelmed me with news of her daughter’s life and her friends. I learned every class her daughter was taking, what grades she got in the classes, who her friends were, where they were from, what her parents did for a living, how they spent their free time and who they were dating. I wanted to scream, “OMG! Get a life, woman!”

I am not the only person who found this peculiar. Sophia was with me and she found it very odd too, which is more significant, because it is our offspring who suffer the most from this method of overbearing parenting.

Let go. Trust that you did a good job and your child has the tools to become a successful, happy and independent adult.

I cannot even begin to describe what an awesome, happy and successful trip we had. I am so proud of her and happy that she is in such a wonderfully enriching and scenically beautiful setting. We all expect that Sophia will thrive very well in her new home.

Although the moments leading up to the actual departure were very emotional for all of us, I have to say once we said our goodbyes, it was not so bad, perhaps because we were well prepared. Sophia is a strong person, very intelligent, dedicated and hardworking and to say she is extremely motivated would be an understatement. In many ways, her father and I have been preparing her for this experience her whole life.

The best part of the trip for me, (and there were many) was the sense of accomplishment and satisfaction her father and I shared together as co-parents in launching our daughter off to college and into adulthood. We reminisced one night over a glass of wine in the hotel lobby and patted each other on the back for doing such a great job, as we also lauded Sophia for turning out so well. Lucky us. Below are some photos I took of the stunning Lewis and Clark campus (voted the second most beautiful college campus according to the Princeton Review) and the many sites we visited while touring Portland.

Eva's plane as it taxies away from the gate on its way to Newark, NJ and then to Madrid, Spain.

Eva left on Friday for a month long Spanish immersion program in Spain. She flew alone from San Francisco to Newark, NJ to Madrid, Spain. Did I mention she went alone? She turned 15, yesterday, the day she arrived in Madrid.

Her father and I had made the decision sereral months ago to send her to Spain this summer because of her increasing love of the culture and language. She has expressed an interest in spending a year abroad her junior year of highschool as a foreign exchange student. We thought a summer month long visit would give her an excellent taste of what to expect in order for her to decide if this is something she really wants and is ready for.

Jared, her dad, Sophia and Cheryl and I took her to the airport on Friday. There were lots of tears. I think I did pretty well considering my extreme anxiety leading up to the big departure. Only Jared and I could take Eva to the gate, so Sophia and Cheryl had to make their tearful goodbyes at security. (Harried travelors have no sympathy for weepy teenagers who are in their way.)

Once at the gate, Jared went over the map of the Newark airport with Eva so she could see how she was to catch her connecting flight. Fortunately it was only three gates away. We reviewed the final check list. Passport, camera, Dramamine, cell phone, money, gum. Check. Then it was time to board. The moment of truth for any parent is the time when you set your child free.  I can now  tell you from my own personal experience… you are never fully prepared.  I watched, clutched with masked anxiety, as my brave, tearful daughter walked down the boarding hallway. Alone. I couldn’t believe that I was letting her do this. (She would later meet up with her tour group in Spain.)

I told Jared I couldn’t leave the terminal until her plane took off. I wanted to see it taxi away from the gate so I could compose myself. And you know what? It really did me good. I needed the closure and the time to collect my thoughts. I likened the feeling to stories I’ve read about astronauts who recall the sense of peace they experience just before takeoff when they surrender to a higher power and know that from now on, their destiny is out of their hands.  I’m not a religious person, so you would never hear me utter the words, “It’s in god’s hands. ” But I do know, it is no longer in my hands. It’s in Eva’s. This is Eva’s experience. Her life. Words cannot fully express the emotions I felt as I watched my daughter’s plane taxi away from the gate. Fear. Apprehension. Anxiety. Sadness. And gratitude. Thankful to my ex for making this all happen.

Later, as I was coming off my philosophical parental high, Eva texted me from her connecting flight to Madrid to tell me she discovered three other kids on her flight to Madrid who were part of her tour group. One was from California and, get this, she had tons of movies, including Justin Beiber’s,  ”Never Say Never!!” Awesome.

That’s when I knew my daughter was going to be OK.

It was such an amazing day, to see your child become an adult. I couldn’t be prouder of her. She graduates next week and in a few weeks will start her job at the boardwalk. Then off to college in the fall. It seems like just yesterday that she was starting kindergarten.

It’s time. Not just for them, but for me too.

As much as I have feared that I would be struggling with this issue, I am happy, surprised and relieved to say that I am not. I’ve had my reminiscent nostalgic moments when I hark back fondly on when my children were adorable and sweet (and I was thinner didn’t need bifocals), but I am also looking forward to getting my life back.

The growth of my children has been a natural progression for me. As they’ve matured, so have I. When they were little, it was all about them. I met their needs, and was by most people’s estimation, a power mom. I was the room parent/fundraising/field trip driving/dance chaperone for as long at they and I could stand it. But even in my super parent hey day, I never really got my sole identity from being a mom. I guess it was because I had a full rich career long before I had children and I remember what that was like. And I want it back.

As I approach life’s half-way mark, (I’ll be 50 in October) I’ve gradually settled in to a time of rediscovery and reinvention.  I went back to school and I got my master’s degree, something I’ve always wanted to do. I returned to my early roots with a new career in theatre and in a few more weeks, I will be launching a new business that I have been developing all year. I continue my writing with this blog as well as JustImaginate and SeaweedArt. And … I’ve started work on a novel.

I wonder why this transition to  children-not-living-at-home has been so easy for me and I have to say it is probably because I have been slowly getting used to if for years. I can still feel the palpable loneliness I experienced as a newly single mom and my kids were spending the weekend at Dad’s. The silence was deafening. I filled the void with my writing, my art, a new business and classes at the local community college. Similarly, my darling husband Paul and I have had a lot of kid free weekends and our relationship has grown and flourished as a result of our private couple time.

I am confident that when my children are ready to leave home, I will be ready to see them go. I may throw myself across the bed and sob, but I’ll get over it.

When Eva and Sophia were little I dressed them alike. Now that they are older they would not be caught dead wearing the same thing. Ditto for Cheryl who wouldn’t dream of buying an article of clothing one of her siblings already has. It has to be different. Which really isn’t a problem since each of my girls has a unique style (although they do tend to borrow and share their wardrobe).

These days, I no longer select any clothes for them. Just when I think I’ve got their taste down, it changes. I just can’t keep up so I don’t even try.

This year’s event will be fairly low key. We are going to spend the day in Carmel with  lunch at the Hog’s Breath Inn (which I believe is still owned by Clint Eastwood)  and  the afternoon at the beach. Paul said he would cook us dinner when we got home. Lovely. My sister Jill is coming with us. She and I like to toss flowers into the ocean to honor our mother who passed away 7 years ago. (She never made us do chores either. And she always raved about the running eggs we made her for breakfast.)

Once it was agreed and a date was set for a weekend in July, Cheryl and Eva got busy planning their trip. They pulled out all of our camping books to decide on a destination and made notes and lists in a designated “camping notebook”. The supplies included two tents: one for them and one for Paul, just in case he snores (or eats too many beans, if you know what I mean.)  It was a joy to watch their excitement. And a delight for me to know that my daughter Eva would beg her stepfather to take her somewhere and feel comfortable and safe with him.

Later I told Paul, “These girls are so excited you’d think you had given them the moon. You’ve given them something to live for.”