Letting Go...

Saturday was a difficult day for me. Matt and Cindy are both enrolled in college classes this fall, and I knew that their first Philosophy paper was due Saturday night--along with a big test over the first unit--and I was worried because when I spoke to them on Friday, they still hadn't finished either. I avoided giving them a lecture on the consequences of procrastination, instead encouraging them to call me for help--regardless of what time it was or how close to the deadline they finished.

So Saturday rolled around, and I tried not to think about it. I puttered through my day, took the dog for a walk. Watched a movie with my husband. Tried not to watch the clock. I finally broke down and called around 3pm (my time), and Matt assured me that they had everything under control, that they would call if they needed me.

They never called.

I went to bed Saturday night, my mind racing in big loops that had me staring at the dark ceiling until close to 2am. Matt finally called the next day: they had both finished their papers and tests and turned them in on time, and had both earned perfectly respectable grades (I suppose it's easy to grade assignments really quickly when you don't write a SINGLE comment, but simply post a score...but that's a whole other rant.) I read Matt's paper, and was really impressed with the quality of his ideas about choosing "The Middle Path" and with his structure, style, and tone; it was just a bit short of the minimum length requirement, which is what prevented him from earning an "A."

And Matt was thrilled. Proud. He'd done it all on his own, and he'd succeeded. When he asked for his dad so he could tell him all about it was when the realization hit me...

It was better for him if he could do it for himself and get a decent grade than it would have been to have my help and received a perfect grade. This was perhaps my greatest downfall as a parent--that I had trouble letting go, letting them succeed or fail on their own. After all, I reasoned, with my help, I could ensure their success. What I didn't realize was that in their minds, it then became my success, and actually undermined their confidence in their own ability to succeed on their own.

What's frustrating is that I'm coming to this conclusion now, when they're 19 and (almost) 22. You know that old cliche about hindsight being 20/20? So true. Four years after he grew up and left home, and four months after the birth of his first child, I'm finally learning the importance of letting go...