I'm reading the letter from the college, deciding if I can scrape up the money for the summer class, between her sophomore and junior year. She'll get to see a cadaver, talk to a surgeon, get college credit. And if she passes, get a small scholarship to help with her time at that college.
I blink, and I'm back in our walk-up apartment, showing her how to use the Mac, laughing with our friends about how true the 'rule of threes' is.( The third curriculum you try is the one that works.) I'm discussing homeschooling curriculums with friends , taking group tours to apple orchards, trying to teach her right from wrong.
And then I'm back in the here and now, and she's saying "Mom? Did you hear me? Can I go to my boyfriends' house for a couple hours?" I want to scream ," Of course not!! You're only a child!!!" But she's not. She's a beautiful, almost-grown woman, with morals, a drivers' license, a boyfriend, a life of her own.
I'm proud of her. We're proud of her. Of both of our children. But I really, really, really, want to lock them in the basement. For like, ever. Because, even though a life means I've done my job as a parent the right way, I want to fail. Because failing means they stay with me.
So I'm torn. But not really.
I smile, and say,"Of course, you can go to your boyfriends house. You know the curfew, see you then." And I know I will. Because she's just that responsible. So I kiss her goodbye, and fill out the class form and re-do the budget to make room for the summer class. I hope she's as successful as she plans on being. Because that means I did something right, and that she'll be happy.
Good luck, kiddoes. I love you both.
