The Boys are Back in Town!

Of course most mothers feel attached to their children. And some of those mothers have more trouble cutting the proverbial apron strings than others. It's safe to say I fit this category.

When my oldest son was 3 I signed him up for preschool because I thought it was the right decision for him. But it didn't feel like the right decision for me. I couldn't bear the thought of leaving him in the care of someone else, I'd surely fall apart. So I calmed myself with the decision that I would drop him off and just wait in the parking lot each day. Ultimately I was able to leave the parking lot. I knew I had to let go, and he thrived and I stayed intact.

I never liked the boys riding in other people's cars or sleeping over at friend's houses. Cub scout camp was only barely tolerable for me because their dad went, too. When he was at outdoor school, I would wake up each of the 3 nights my son was gone and imagine him getting lost in the woods trying to find the bathroom. The first time the boys went to a movie without an adult I arrived early to pick them up and practically camped outside the the theatre doors to meet them as soon as they emerged. But I let them go, and they, of course, thrived and I still managed to stay intact.

When their dad and I split up I knew I would need to face the inevitable travel without me. The first summer of our separation my husband decided to take them on a 12 day road trip to visit Grandma in California. The boys were thrilled at the prospect but for me he might as well have sent them down into an abandoned mine shaft. 1500 miles of driving -- each way! Perhaps letting them go unattended into a rest stop restroom! Staying in earthquake country! With a woman who was most certainly never a fan of me! No amount of fruit picking could assuage my anxiety.

But 12 days passed and they returned, tan and beaming and full of tales they will have to recount forever. They definitely thrived. And there was I, still somehow intact.

This summer their dad proposed another road trip with a slight twist, they would drive there and, gasp, fly home! I'm not a flying fan for me, let alone for my children. At least while driving I could call or text them and know they were ok. But last night they traveled home. On a plane. At departure time I checked the airline website. Five minutes into departure I checked the flight status again. And so it went until they landed.

They are both here with me now. Tanned and beaming and full of tales they will recount forever. And they continue to thrive and I am admittedly still intact.

The thing about cutting apron strings is that while you let go of a little fabric, the apron itself is still intact. I realize that raising children is about gradually letting them go so that when they are adults they can not only stand alone, but thrive. If you give them the opportunity to be independent, to explore on their own, but always be there with open arms when they return, the relationship you forged with them since birth will ultimately remain intact.