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Years ago, when I was dealing with the stress of this delicate balance, worried that I wasn’t meeting the girls’ needs, but also that I wasn’t perhaps working up to my potential in my career of choice, I was given a great gift by author Judith Viorst. During an interview she told me that while those years of struggling to simultaneously be all to your children and your career seem like such a long time when you’re dealing with the resulting emotional and physical stress, it all passes quickly. Suddenly you have 30-plus years to concentrate on your career while your kids go off to live their lives. How right she was. Though I do have some regrets about my work-family life balance over the past 22 years, both of my daughters are pursuing career paths they’re hoping will enable them to also fit in a family, so my example couldn’t have been too awful.
In 2001 I wrote to my readers: And so, it was once again the passing of time that was impacting me, as well as facing the unknown. Sometimes you just have to grieve before you can embrace change. That’s what I did that summer.
That’s what I’m doing this summer as well as I prepare to send Laura off to college. But the difference is that I know now that each new stage brings with it great joy. I’ve never been a parent who looked back on a time in my girls’ lives and wished its return because I’ve been so immersed in whatever stage they’re in at the moment. At summer’s end, though our day-to-day schedules won’t involve afterschool snacks—and I no longer even have to know what the homework assignments are—my girls and I will still have a strong bond. Danielle and I were in touch nearly every day while she was in college, whether through a simple “I love you” text or long teary conversations about boyfriend issues. The difference is that our relationship has shifted to one of adults. She’s the driver of her own life; I’m merely the passenger who occasionally hands out welcome—and unwelcome—directions. The same is now true for Laura. It’s that letting go, whether it’s to send them onto the school bus or to leave them behind in their dorm room that’s the painful part.
When Danielle came home from her first day of kindergarten she announced: “I have so much to tell I don’t know where to start.” Laura said: “I had such a good time I never want to come home again.” There were never any adjustment issues for them, thankfully. My great joy today is that they still come home with stories that may be vastly different than those six-year-old comments were, but they’re all the more poignant because now they’re from poised and confident young women.
Maybe I should take a moment between my tears to congratulate myself on a job well done. After all, isn’t this launch into the real world what we spend 18 years preparing our children for? Now please pass the tissues.