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BG left for her third year of college today.  Quite a difference from the first year when all five of us went along with three U-Hauls worth of Bed Bath & Beyond crap.  Yes, I drank the Kool-Aid.  If BB&B was selling it, my daughter thought she needed it.  This year we “shopped” the closets and pantry of our house and I still feel like I spent a small fortune.

Another trend with kids going off to college that’s even more disturbing than the BB&B phenomenon is the monumental expressions of blubbering grief I’ve observed.   I’m not talking about shedding a few tears when you leave them at their dorm with an unknown roommate covered in piercings in areas you never knew could be pierced.  I’m talking about Xanax needing, step up the therapy to twice a day, stuck under the bedroom covers weeping for weeks before their kids leave and weeks after.  What is up with that?  Is the crying really about their kids or the fact that nobody is whisking us away for four years of fun and maybe a bit of studying?

I love my daughter.  I have never shed one tear in the three times we have brought her to college.  Not one.  After all we have been preparing for them to go to college since they were born, right?  We want them to be independent and happy, right? We want them to move the hell out after they graduate so we can finally have our lives back and hope to scrape a few pennies together to retire.  RIGHT?

Am I a monster?  The problem, my husband tells me, is that our helicoptering, psycho  over-caring generation has wiped their kid’s asses for 17 years and there ain’t no stopping them now.   What keeps them up at night is whether or not little Johnny (who is now 6’ and 200 pounds) will be able to find his pencil box on the first day of class and doesn’t mix up his pillow sham with his pillow case.  Hubby trusts that we’ve raised BG well and have faith in her so there is no need to weep.  She’s living the life – what’s there to cry about?  Most parents have no time for that kind of rational thinking.

Let me think of abused puppies and maybe I can generate a few tears.  Knowing I have been avoiding her room all summer and now it’s time to clean it will definitely lead to some sobbing.

I’m going to save my inconsolable crying for these dreaded words, “I’m moving home after graduation.”

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