Dropping your kid off at school = hell.

I just got back. Here’s what you need to know.

Photo by Victoria Heath on Unsplash

Not gonna sugarcoat it. I have one child. And he’s gone. And I feel 100% great about his decision, but logic doesn’t make it hurt any less. It’s like your worst breakup ever but you can’t even relax into the anger of chucking all their stuff and making a “fuck you” mix. It’s like someone took all your guts and tossed them on the sidewalk and told you to calmly drive away. IT. SUCKS. So while it’s still fresh (I HAD TO TAKE HIM ON MY F*ING BIRTHDAY, WTAF.), I figured the least I could do is offer my tips.

1. Wear cheerful, comforting clothing. If you’ve contemplated, say, a Pangaia sweatsuit or one of those loungewear looks Dorit sports on RHOBH, now’s the time. Also, wear a hands-free bag of some sort so you can have the sh*t you need while busying yourself hanging up their stuff, making a bed, etc.
2. Prepare for your child to say something that hurts. For example “Can you guys go?” or “I don’t want to have dinner with you.” Right before this happened to me, my husband turned to me in the elevator line and said, “Be prepared. I bet he says something really harsh. It’s normal.” Knowing it in advance helped me steel for the punch and recover faster.
3. It’s unreasonable to expect not to cry. It IS possible not to cry in the brief moment when you help them unpack, etc. Keep that short and sweet. Lingering makes it worse. I just unpacked him, and then it was like, what am I still doing here that’s helpful for anyone? So we hugged and left.
4. I also let him know in advance that I’d cry at some point. I said that obviously this is a big change and if he happened to see tears, please know that it doesn’t change the fact that this is 100% what I want him to be doing. And that with every day it would get easier for me and that I was making fun plans with his stepdad. I didn’t want him to feel burdened, but I did want to be authentic and show him what real life change is about, and that sometimes it hurts.
5. Go home as fast as you can. It’s painful to be in their college town and not together. I wished we were leaving sooner, and all night in my hotel I thought “he’s in this same town and not with me.” It was not a good night. On that point, bring a book you’ll want to read cover to cover. It’s possible you’ll be up all night. I read White Fur and loved it.
6. One helpful thing to tell yourself came from my friend who suffers from anxiety around flying. From her therapist who suggested, with every scary act (buckling up, etc) to tell yourself, “This is what it takes to go where I want to go and have amazing experiences.” I told myself, “This is what it takes for Jack to go where he wants to go and have the amazing experiences he’s supposed to be having.”
7. Bring a blanket. It’s FREAKING freezing on airplanes and there are no blankets handed out because of Covid. At the time when you most need comfort, the return flight, you don’t want to feel like someone tossed you in a meat locker. Also, bring socks.
8. Get a few power songs in your head. See, these sad songs will invade your head and the next thing you know you’ll find yourself humming, say “All by mysellllllf, don’t wanna be…” So you want a handful of your own power songs at the ready to replace the sad tracks. I kept taking a deep breath and singing “I get knocked down, but I get up again…” You’re welcome.
9. If you can, take the next day off, but not completely off. I was not ready for client calls, still too fresh, too teary. But having nothing on the calendar leaves too much time for seeing his old things and weeping. I had a list of stuff to get done.
10. If you need me, I’m here at rachel@honorcodecreative.com — I’ll be stroking my cat Monkey, going on pizza dates with my hubs, eating chocolate covered coffee beans, trying to stop shopping online, and watching Bravo — with intermittent weeping and plenty of time to respond if you are too.