Learning to let go

“Did you get in?” “Have you heard yet?” “Will you apply anywhere else?” Those are the questions high school seniors have been asking each other as college acceptance and rejection notices roll in. Some news is good, some is bad, and in some cases, there’s no news at all. These are emotional times for our students, and while they will end up where they’re supposed to go, it doesn’t make the process of getting there any easier. But it does make all of us stronger.

Witnessing our own son go through the college acceptance process last year was excruciating, especially as a music school applicant who had to pass through tough screening steps before even getting his final decision letters. One day he’d learn that he didn’t make it through the first-round screening, and the next day a school would invite him in for an audition. Looking back, while it wasn’t easy being on the rollercoaster ride of our son’s rejections and acceptances, the whole process provided tough but valuable lessons on overcoming obstacles, and bouncing back from disappointment or mistakes.

It was during this college admissions process that I realized that there’s plenty of parenting information out there on how to build your child’s self-esteem, but very little about when to let go and actually let your child fail. Sports and school experiences didn’t help. We still have a shelf lined with elementary school trophies handed out just for playing the game, and a folder filled with school papers covered with “Nice Job!” (even though our child’s handwriting was illegible).

When our children were toddlers, I used to pride myself on how I’d give them the freedom they needed to just be kids. My husband, on the other hand, would be the over-protective one. We’d go to the playground together and he’d follow their every step, and react to every minor bump and bruise (which invariably made our kids cry), while I’d choose to just sit and wait. I’d be on the edge of the park bench just hoping that our children would simply pick themselves up after a minor tumble and continue playing.

Ironically, when our boys hit middle school, my husband and I both became “helicopter parents”. With boys who struggled with organization and focus, I’d spend countless hours helping our sons clean out their backpacks (including six-month old Pop Tarts), while my husband monitored homework and studying for tests. At one point, our oldest son’s guidance counselor at Blake said, “Don’t be afraid to let him fail. Kids need to learn how to bounce back on their own.” At the time, the advice was hard to accept, however several years later as we watched our son ride the emotional college admissions rollercoaster, I realized the guidance counselor was right. But I still had a tough time letting go.

Months later while we were preparing to send our son off to college, I was finding it especially difficult to give him space. Our son wasn’t able to get into the dorms, so he was forced to live in an off-campus apartment with upperclassmen. I worried endlessly asking myself: “Would he be able to fend for himself? How would he cope without someone telling him what to do? Would he make smart choices?

Two weeks after dropping him off at school, our son was doing just fine, but I wasn’t. One day I drove into Boston just to make sure he had a rain jacket (mind you, after three days straight of torrential rain). I was trying to avoid being seen as a hovering mom, so I put the jacket in a FedEx box and personally dropped it off on his doorstep so that it would look like a bona-fide delivery (all the time trying to make sure I wouldn’t be seen).

A month later, when our son’s laptop was stolen, my husband had to convince me to not drive in again to “save” our son. Unlike those early playground days, I was now the one hovering, while my husband was the parent standing back waiting to see if our son could bounce back on his own.

Looking back at the high school-to-college transition process, I now realize my son wasn’t the only one growing up and changing – he was forcing me to change too, and for the better. Over the recent winter break, as my self-assured and independent son sat across the kitchen table sharing his thoughts and aspirations with me, I soaked up his every word and was thankful at how far we both had come. And when I dropped him off back at school, I didn’t look back.

Carving out family time

As the youngest of six children with a six-year age gap between me and my brother, I was bereft when he headed off to college. How would I survive the next six years without any siblings at home? I eventually got used to being a short-term only child, but I still found myself looking forward to the holidays, long weekends and summer vacations that would bring my brothers and sisters home, and we’d all be together as a family.

Fortunately, what helped me survive this “only-child” period was living next door to the O’Connell family, which also had six children, including several around my age. So even though I was home alone during my middle school and high school years, I still had plenty of company.

The O’Connells weren’t just your average neighbors – they became my second family. We shared a long, narrow driveway that became the location for endless games of kick ball and softball (and broken windows), plus biking, jump rope and hop scotch. We also had access to two garages that were transformed into classrooms, club houses, dress-up rooms and hideouts. We could walk into each other’s houses without knocking, and our parents supported each other with meals, babysitting, carpools, and cups of flour.

Our houses were so close together that from my bedroom window I could see into the O’Connell’s kitchen, and hear the sounds of laughter (and sisters fighting) through their windows. Those windows also served as portals for the creative message centers we’d create. Suspended above the driveway and threaded through an eye screw attached to a window at each house would be a continuous loop of clothesline. On it we’d attach and send “secret” messages. (Remarkably, none of our parents were ever worried about us falling out onto the driveway.)

The O’Connells treasured family time, and I was sometimes invited to join in the fun. We’d play board games, have tea and listen to jazz, or pile into their station wagon to go to a drive-in movie. Even as teenagers, I don’t remember any of the O’Connell kids complaining about family time – everyone seemed to look forward to it. The only family event that I couldn’t attend was the Sunday “Daddy Dinner Night.” On these weekly occasions, Mr. O’Connell was in charge of making the big meal.

During our driveway games, I’d learn about the menu, including his famous desserts. But once the dinner bell rang, a mass exodus of O’Connell kids ensued and I’d be left alone on the driveway with my mouth watering wishing I could be with them.

Today, with a son who is home from college on winter break, I’m soaking in every moment of our own family being together. Surprisingly, I’m not even fazed by his messy bedroom; crazy 2 a.m. to 1 p.m. sleep schedule; or endless quest for food. I know he’ll be heading back to school in just a few weeks, so I want to enjoy the time he’s home with us. Our family dinner table is once again set for five, and that feels great.

I often think about how I wish we had created more family-time traditions like the O’Connells. For many years we were eating together every night, but as the kids got older and their activities and school demands took over, trying to coordinate family dinners became an enormous challenge.

And while I can never replicate all the years the O’Connells dedicated to establishing their wonderful family rituals, I can try to carve out some quality family time with our own kids while they’re still home.

I’m not fooled into believing it’ll be easy, especially with teenagers who prefer friend time over family time. But we’ve already had one fun family night out since my son has been home, so I’m encouraged. I just need to make sure to give our kids advanced notice, and engage them in the planning. We certainly can’t have Mom digging in her heels at 4 p.m. saying, “Okay guys, tonight is family night.” I tried that once. It didn’t work.

Looking into the future, I know it will only get more difficult to pull everyone together as a family. But right now, memories of my childhood are motivating me to make it a priority. While the O’Connell kids and I have long moved away from the old neighborhood, our parents, childhood homes, and beloved driveway are still there serving as wonderful reminders about how incredibly fortunate I was to have grown up with a double dose of family time.