the drop-off: move-in day

Move-In Day. This was it. The first day of college orientation.
It was also Miles’s birthday.
“Do you want me to get a cake?”
“No, Mom, NO. I don't really want people to know it's my birthday.”
“Oh, okay. But ...”
“No.”
I guess that was clear enough, even for me.
We loaded up the car and drove the four miles to campus, and were greeted by a couple of cheerful students who directed us to park and register before unloading the car. We followed instructions, sort of, parked and took the scenic route to the registration building. As we made our way there, we passed trios that looked like us – a father, a mother, and a young adult/kid, looking slightly embarrassed. The weather was glorious. At least we could all talk about how nice the weather was as we – like our son – met a bunch of people for the first time who we suddenly had a lot in common with.

There was no registration line. We just walked on up and registered. The only glitch was with some fees that for some reason didn’t get pulled from the monthly installments that I was sure we made – believe me, there is no doubt when those tuition payments get automatically drawn out of your bank account – and I was a bit taken aback when the woman behind the table addressed my son and had him sign a document stating he would bring a check over to the office within a week’s time. Wow. This is really happening. Now, instead of wondering if I had forgotten to pay something on time, I could start wondering if my son had forgotten to pay something on time! This is getting real. Somehow, it felt like my life had just gotten more stressful, even though it should have had the opposite effect.

We decided to attend a faculty talk that was part of the parents’ “orientation” program. It was nice to run into a few other parents we had met in the Bay Area, and we sat next to each other like our own little club. The speakers were all very reassuring, and I started to feel ... reassured. This felt like the right school for Miles. He had chosen it, and it had, literally, chosen him. The talk went on with different administrators describing how they interact with the kids and what their areas of expertise were. They all gave different messages that basically amounted to the same thing: Leave your child alone, Don’t call the school, Don’t email the school, No you aren’t on the school emails but your child will be, Don’t call the professors, Do have your child call or email the professors, When you leave the school today, say good-bye. And leave.

Even with the bluntness that was underneath all the nice reassuring presentations, I felt okay with it all. Then, a woman raised her hand and started to ask a question. She was pretty much already in tears and could barely get her question out. She was doing exactly what I had imagined I would be doing: bordering on being a blubbering mess. And yet, I was sitting there, not crying, feeling ... strangely happy. This was my son’s time, and I was happier for him than I was sad for myself. Realizing this made me even happier.

After the talk, we found our son again and took one last look at his room. Time was ticking away, counting down to 4 pm when we would say our farewells. As I stepped into the hallway, a young woman stopped me and asked me if I was Miles's mom, and what kind of cake Miles liked, chocolate? She told me they knew it was his birthday, and they were going to get a cake and celebrate with him later. And, she was also allergic to nuts, so she would make sure it was nut-free. With that, I got to feel even more reassured. I was loving this college more and more by the minute!

We assessed his room again, and decided to make one last run to Bed Bath & Beyond to get a trash can, some over-the-door hooks, and maybe a full-length mirror. We said good-bye for now and hopped into the rental car and down Lancaster Avenue again. Careening around Bed Bath & Beyond, we grabbed a few options for hooks, one trash can, and no mirror. None of them fit the sleek modern lines of his room, so ironically, I decided against getting one.

As I drove around like a reality show contestant trying to beat a deadline, I made a mental note of the things a mom would notice: there’s the CVS, there’s the bank, there’s the Wawa Market, there’s the Chipotle. All within a two mile radius of campus. This gave me some peace of mind, since, let’s face it – my kid could get most of his needs taken care of at CVS, the bank, Wawa, and Chipotle.

It was surreal to think that eighteen years to the day, I was in labor, getting ready to bring this baby boy into the world. And, now, I was just worried about how close he would be to CVS, the bank, Wawa and Chipotle.

Driving back to campus this time, it was all feeling more bittersweet. This was the last time we’d see him. And we were running late, so we had barely enough time to get our latest purchases into his room before the parents’ reception and dinner, and the students’ orientation kick-off remarks. I rushed around, embarrassing him, since I had to walk past his small orientation group that was gathered in the common room on his hall. And, finally, it was time. Good-bye, I love you, good-bye, study hard, I love you! Good-bye.

And, amazingly, I still didn’t cry.

the drop-off: getting ready

The day had finally arrived. My son was leaving for college. And, unlike when I went to college on the opposite coast – his parents were coming along with him for “move-in day.” It would be a first for all three of us.

Packing was no small feat. I was determined to let him do it himself, just as I had done. Back in the 80’s when I was a kid, I had to rely on myself ... and my very prepared and understanding Eagle Scout boyfriend with his mom’s old Datsun wagon and good ol’ UPS on Western Avenue to ship my stuff across the country.

My son would have two personal couriers with him. I figured the least he could do was pack everything himself.

My husband, of course, as prone to fantasy as he is about his sports teams, is more realistic than me when it comes to real life. Plus, he used to be a teenaged boy. So he casually (at first) asked to see Miles’s luggage. Then, I heard him gently suggesting things to our son. Ultimately, he just decided it was necessary to jump in and re-pack everything, going through my son’s room with him and asking do-you-need-this-how-about-that and eventually emerging with the necessities of life for a college freshman. Of course, the first thing to figure out was how to pack the Klipsch with the subwoofer. Of course. And how to pack his posters so they wouldn’t get munched.

Things he didn’t need or want, which I would have considered basic necessities:
mirror
hairbrush

Apparently, my son doesn’t need such frivolous things. And that’s not necessarily a bad thing. I stayed up most of the night, doing more laundry, just in case. This would be the last time I would be doing his laundry for a few months, so I didn’t mind. Plus, I probably wouldn’t have slept very well, anyway. While I waited for the washing machine and dryer to do the actual washing and drying, I searched the internet for a picture of Pikachu and Ash, Pokemon Getto Daze playing over and over in my head.

Miles said his good-byes to his sister and the dog, and then we made our way to San Francisco International Airport early the next morning and got checked in. I fell asleep as soon as I found my seat on the plane, and, as if in a time machine, we seemed to instantaneously land in Philadelphia. The rest of the day was a blur of luggage, rental car, Siri’s voice telling me where to go, and driving to the hotel, from the hotel, to Bed Bath & Beyond, to Target, to Chik-Fil-A, and back to the hotel again. Anything that he hadn’t packed that he thought he needed, we bought. This included a laundry bag, laundry detergent, shampoo, body wash (so he wouldn’t have to deal with carrying around a bar of soap), a pillow, towels, a trash can, ibuprofen and scissors.

Still no mirror or hairbrush.