Is DampRid on your move-in list?
8.10.2023
We’ve reached that time of year—when the silence in my house is emblematic of what’s ahead and I don’t really like it. Sure my husband and I have begrudgingly adjusted to missing our son at home. After all, it’s been a few years since he left for college and typically takes up residency in another state during school breaks. His boisterous storytelling, humor and constant chatter left a void our younger daughter was less interested in filling. Like many high school girls, she only wants our attention when SHE is in the mood to hang out or eat a home-cooked meal. We savor those moments because we relish being in her presence. While my husband and I joke that she is preparing us for life as empty nesters, there is a big difference between faintly hearing her laughter from behind a closed door and the reality of knowing she’s left for college and all that remains behind the closed door is the endless piles of treasures she refuses to throw out.
As I clean out my pantry, the site of the brown lunch bags make me teary. Knowing they will no longer serve a purpose in our lives, I start to get nostalgic, possibly even yearn for the days of lunch making duty. While school lunches were never my forte, it will feel odd not to worry about meeting Dylan’s culinary expectations on any given day. In fairness, my efforts did result in moments of greatness spread amongst many hodgepodge attempts. Inevitably I received a sarcastic text from her at 11:10 am on the dot critiquing the contents. Secretly, Dylan’s snarky banter made me laugh (most of the time), but I enjoyed our midday connection. I could also count on a “What’s for dinner?” text at some point from school. While I hated the pressure to deliver a mouth-watering protein, a worthy side, interestingly prepared vegetables, and a freshly chopped salad, again, I appreciated feeling connected. From time to time I may have lamented about these thankless responsibilities, but now that no one will need me to orchestrate their daily meals, I wish I could go back in time and truly capitalize on each opportunity. Oh the guilt. What kind of Jewish mother am I?
As I head into our final week of a full house, the first floor of my house looks like an Amazon distribution center. Reminiscent of the first summer both my son and daughter went to sleep away camp, I have areas designated for her stuff and his stuff. These “staging areas” (as my mother has perfectly dubbed any pile of items that are being collected to later be moved to another location) continue to grow and grow with each daily delivery. Access to Amazon 24 hours a day really elevates the efficiency of any college prep game. Like so many of us, I’ve tried to anticipate everything my children will possibly need—as if there are no stores in Madison and Durham. And just when I think I’ve nailed it, I spoke to a friend who asked me if her son needs a DampRid cloth in his freshman room. I don’t dispute the cleverness of this product line in specific instances, but that seems a bit over the top for a dorm room, even by my standards. Nothing says neurotic mother like a DampRid cloth left hanging as you wave goodbye. All joking aside, the innocent question posed to me did illustrate a much bigger issue. We obsess over making life SO comfortable for our children, anticipating their every need and waiting in the wings with a solution (not all of us, but many). Preparing to send our kids off to college, or sleepaway camp for the first time, or their first apartment isn’t really about the hangers and the bedding, or even the DampRid cloth, it’s about our discomfort with really letting go. We convince ourselves that if we “think” of everything it will be a smooth transition for them and for us. Intellectually, we know better, but it’s so easy to fall victim to the thinking. Like the Dyson air purifier I put in my son’s freshman room. It didn’t prevent him from getting Covid—possibly because he never turned it on, but that’s a technicality, isn’t it—but I had been convinced that failure to purchase this very expensive contraption would leave my son unnecessarily subjected to particles that could harm him—gasp!
AND SO IT GOES…remember we do most of this stuff for us, not really for them. These are huge transitions for everyone, and if an extra Tide stick or perfectly coordinated desk accessories make us feel in control for the moment, so be it! And if that’s not your mindset, and you more comfortably subscribe to a minimalist philosophy or the belief that your child will figure it out for themselves when they arrive on campus, that works too! They all do! It’s a balance for sure, and admittedly, I tend to live more comfortably in the overzealous camp. Imagine the challenge I am facing as my oldest child decided he doesn’t need our help this year. He’s ready to fly, even if I would prefer to watch him soar from a perfectly made apartment room bed. It took a loving best friend to tell me to back off and let him do it alone. She reiterated a point that I know, even if I am not ready to embrace it, whatever he does for himself is actually better than anything I will do for him. While very true, it’s not easy for me to embrace. Sadly, I will pack up my staging area and send him on his way solo. This redefinition of roles is unsettling. Change is scary and an empty nest will be a whole new phase. It’s not easy for any type-A mothers (let alone Jewish too) to willingly let go, but I do believe a little mildew odor in a dorm room might actually be a good thing (then they will really appreciate home 😉). Luckily, our daughter still needs us this year! I will savor every minute of move-in knowing that her desire to have us present is fleeting too…For now we are all in with her…and I can’t wait! But, I’ll be leaving the DampRid at home! Good luck and stay strong! Xoxo
Pro tip for newbies:
While Duane Reade and Walgreens exist everywhere, there’s nothing better than knowing you left your child with any medicine they may need right under their bed. Fevers, coughs and allergic reactions don’t always occur during convenient hours. Walk the drugstore aisles now and fill up the cart with anything you think they may need. Compile a medicine box, even label the items for what they treat if you’re so inclined. I think Amazon may sell a prefabricated version of this too. Either way, just do it! Trust me, you will feel better knowing there’s a little dose of mothering available just when they may need it most.