Year after year, there’s always a mom who captures my eye at graduation. 

She’s beaming, her smile so wide the pride seems to radiate from her, like sunlight spilling through the clouds on an overcast day. This is as it should be, and yet, my spidey senses tingle, sniffing out the hot mess roiling just beneath the surface. 

She’s trying her best to hold it together, and she’s doing a beautiful job of faking it. What she really wants, however, is to grab her baby off of that dais, and run far, far away. 

I see her. I’ve been her. I’ve got a message for her. 

It’s OK not to be OK. 

Sometimes, it’s what your kids need most. 

It’s a lesson I learned halfway through my daughter’s first year of college. 

Reading through posts in the Facebook group for parents of kids attending the school, I saw countless messages warning that kids are too busy on parents’ weekend to spend time with Mom and Dad, that they’re too overloaded with homework and have too many projects to accommodate a visit, that they really don’t want us there because they’ve got better things to do with their time. 

I wanted nothing more than to run to the university, and wrap my daughter in my arms for the entire weekend, but I took those messages at face value. Worried about being an overbearing parent and putting too much pressure on my child during the stress of the first semester at school, I floated the idea of skipping parents’ weekend. Fortunately, it was an idea quashed by both my husband and daughter. I went, and we had a wonderful time getting familiar with our daughter’s new life and friends. 

When I left the campus, the sadness of goodbye was still there, but I’d gained a sense of calm too. This is truly where they were supposed to be. 

Months later, I’d learn from my daughter that my suggestion of skipping the weekend was a gut punch. I thought I was making it easier on them by hiding my emotions. They thought it meant I didn’t care. 

It’s been two years since I first dropped my baby off at college. 

We’re spending this summer apart for the first time as they fulfill a college requirement to work in their chosen field for three months. 

I still cry every single time we part, but I’ve learned it’s OK. 

I don’t need to pretend I have it all together to show them that I’m proud of all they have accomplished. They hear it in my words every time we FaceTime and each time I respond to a text message about a project conquered or a new cooking skill acquired. 

More importantly, they know just how much I care.