I was sitting in my hairdresser’s chair a few weeks ago when several stylists gathered behind me, talking excitedly. They were consulting the Chinese calendar, trying to determine the gender of one of their soon-to-be-born babies. I congratulated the father, and he told me that they were keeping the baby a surprise until birth… but it was still fun to guess. I, now being the absolute dinosaur that I am, agreed that a surprise gender reveal is so fun. We did that with our youngest and would absolutely do it again in a heartbeat. I then felt the need to revise my statement to explain that I had, in fact, already had a boy and a girl, so the third was easier. Surprises are hard for a control freak like me. I only wish I could do it all over again, and I would truly keep them all a surprise. Looking back now, my main regret was that I was so uptight in the early stages of motherhood; I wish I’d just let go a little more. By the time the third came along, I was forced to be more chill. And I found myself having more fun in the process. 

If I could travel back in a Delorean, and tell the younger, stressed-out, control-freak me to do anything differently, {at the risk of being slapped} I would actually tell myself to calm down. Take a deep breath. Enjoy the moment because everything is going to unfold exactly as it’s supposed to. No one cares if your baby is in the perfect outfit for the first few months, because you’ll be at home covered in spittle and probably pumping yourself like a degraded dairy cow. Or if your nursery isn’t completely put together, oh-so perfectly. Because they’re going to sleep in the bassinet for half a year anyway. Or, stressing over if they’re meeting those milestones of crawling, walking, and talking alongside their baby cohorts when some {insecure} parent declares their baby is the most advanced and brilliant and gifted for their age, because {news flash} every child develops differently. The list of all the things I chose to fret over is hilarious to me now. Cue Taylor Swift’s “You Need to Calm Down.”

If I could give myself the perfect piece of advice, it would all come down to this: It won’t be perfect. But it’s going to be a fantastic ride. 

Then, lying in bed later that week, absolutely exhausted after moving our oldest out of his first apartment following his first year of college, and slightly resenting the past me once again for being so uptight about everything, I realized I can still apply that strategy now. If parenting is viewed as bookends, {it never ends, the relationship just changes}, and I’m now on the other side, this is my chance to take it down a notch. I suddenly have two sophomores: one in college and one in high school. The middle is beginning her senior year, so the ACT, applications, visits, stress, and pressure to find a roommate… have all begun. Again. HOLD ME.

I said it before, and I’ll say it again: I just got off that white-knuckled roller coaster ride. WE HaVe tO dO ThIs AgAiN? This past year was an exercise in letting go and transitioning to something new with our oldest in his first year of college. What if instead of stressing over everything, I just throw my hands up in the air, offer some gentle guidance, and enjoy the ride?

On another note, it’s going to be a long year because she’s already started milking it. I really can’t blame her for that. If I don’t do something with her that she’s requested, it’s “You’re really going to miss me next year…” and I have to say, it’s working. She’s right. Clever girl. If I can do something differently, it will be less when it comes to all that fussy stuff. And it will be more of what really matters. If I want her to be less stressed, then I have to be less stressed. We are the ultimate emotional funnels straight to them, after all.

I adore having my kids at home. Summer is the absolute best, but our days have always been numbered. I can feel this time slipping through my fingers as our schedules become scattered, or if they want to bring a significant other on vacation, shifting the dynamic once again. It’s always back to that lifelong struggle of living in the moment, all while trying to keep our heads above water. In a perfect world, we would only focus on the present, and no one would have to work or worry. The irony is never lost on me. 

Letting go is hard. This stage is an interesting one because, ultimately, it changes the family dynamics each time one prepares to leave that nest. I once thought adults had their crap together, and then I became one. We’re surrounded by a culture of overreaction and stress, which is worn as a badge of honor. Applying to ten out-of-state Ivy League colleges is touted as a strength if accomplished by their junior year. And cheating on the ACT is a thing for a reason, because our culture is absolutely exhausting. Is it just me, or do all these parents need more hobbies?

At the end of my life, I know I won’t look back and note every single stellar accomplishment that my children and I have checked off that list. It won’t matter. What will matter is our relationship, the time we had, and the sweet memories we made together. 

If this is a bookend in parenting, I know that looking back, I’ll wish I worried less. I always note this, every year, once I lose my battle with the messy mama bird on my porch, {who has the heart to rip down a half-constructed nest?} and I watch those babies hatch, grow, and then ultimately fly. It’s a poignant reminder that if we’re doing it right, this is what they’re supposed to do. The least I can do is make things a little less intense while I offer my guidance. 

Suddenly, my second baby is a senior.
It’s time to take a deep breath and let her fly.
It won’t be perfect.
But it’s going to be a fantastic ride.