Watching her take her first steps for the second time.
Kendall wasn’t very interested in “toddling” around. She crawled for several months and then, without much warning, she stood up…and off she went. It was nothing short of bewildering to my first-time mom brain. One minute she’s crawling around — comfortably close to the floor, if I’m being honest, in the event her tiny hand slipped out from under her — and the next she’s up, terrifyingly mobile, and much more likely to take a fall. Every piece of furniture suddenly seemed like an obstacle guaranteed to trip her up. The floor might as well have been covered in hidden patches of slippery oil and thumbtacks, for all the worry it induced. It was terrifying, this walking thing.
Not for her, mind you. She was fine. More than, actually. She loved her newfound mobility. I was the one who watched her every step like it might be the last she took before falling and hitting her head on something. My family joked I was going to develop a permanent muscle spasm from reaching out to steady her every time she looked like she might stumble. Did I cover every corner of every table in pieces of a pool noodle secured with tape? Well, no. But I won’t pretend I wasn’t tempted.
I mention these first steps because I think it’s something many people can empathize with. First steps are usually scarier for the caregiver who watches them than for the tiny human who takes them. And that’s because we know what can go wrong, whereas they are just blithely marching about, blissfully unaware of the danger posed by a sock that has bunched up at their toes and could catch on a table leg and…well, you probably remember those scenarios rushing through your head.
In most cases, it all turned out fine. Over the years, caregivers become less certain disaster looms around every corner. We begin helping our kids to be independent, to make good decisions, to take accountability for their mistakes. Somewhere along the way the kid gloves come off, and we go from raising children to shaping young adults.
Then comes the second set of first steps. The ones that lead away from home and onto a college campus. Even in the case of commuter students living at home, those first steps are just as momentous for their loved ones. Because those are also the first steps toward full, independent adulthood.
Having lived through both sets of first steps, I can say unequivocally the anxiety and touch of sadness that accompany them are a little heartbreaking. But those feelings also have a positive side, in that they function like a barometer for the situation. In the same way you relax after you stop seeing the slightly askew table, the recently waxed floor, and the slippery rug as accidents waiting to happen, you find yourself exhaling gratefully when you know your child has chosen the right college.
For us, that was Georgetown. Kendall applied to several schools in the Commonwealth, and she was accepted. She received generous scholarships from each of them. And similarly to how she crawled tentatively before suddenly standing firm and walking confidently, she weighed her options carefully and then decided — firmly and confidently — on Georgetown. And it was all down to the way she was treated by everyone she encountered. Starting with one very important person who played a pivotal role in her — and our — decision to embrace GC the way they embraced us.
But I’ll let Kendall tell that story. Keep an eye out for her first blog post — just as soon as finals wrap up!
