I am not good at letting go.  I (think) I have come a long way from my old control freak days but I’m sure if Amanda, my coworker, is reading this now, she is rolling on the floor in disbelief.  Yes, I was worse.

The fact that my children are not in therapy or on high doses of medication is a miracle.   Chip, at least, has wine.

As you know, Amelia is a Freshman.  Amelia is good student, person, friend, sister and daughter. She has it together and is on the right track.  Funny how I can type that yet deep down in my Italian mother soul, I think she can’t do things for herself.  She has given me no reason to the contrary and maybe I am just hanging on. Poor Jack, he is still here and carries the full burden of my focus.

It’s this time of the semester that students make their schedules for the next year/semester.  Jack escaped somewhat unscathed, although I did have a few suggestions for his schedule.  Amelia, is carrying some battle scars.

With what began as a discussion about her classes, transformed into what you needed and who you needed to be to get into medical school, and that morphed into, “Please tell me you’re not going to get married for a while! I wished you didn’t have a boyfriend right now.”  THAT went over big. The child became the parent and she calmly said. “Mom, I don’t know what pants I am going to wear today.”

Now Nick, who I call ‘skates’ since he is a hockey player, is a very nice and kind guy who has looked out for Amelia and outside of one small lapse in judgement (no he didn’t cheat) is really an OK pick.  But, Amelia, listen to your mother…no distractions, right?

I had a boyfriend from home my freshman and sophomore years much to the dismay of my mother.  I got a similar speech every semester and when the relationship ended, she was somewhat relived even though I told her I was not getting married. Poor John Murray, if you are out there and reading this, I’m sorry.

So Amelia, you do you and I will try not to do me so much and together you will shine and I will really try to keep in check.  I am not ready for you to grow up yet.  I get teary walking by your room, even after all these months. I miss hugging you.  I am so proud of you.  You are a one of a kind in every sense of the word.

Now remember, I will probably put your father in an early grave, poor bas&#rd so don’t forget me. Hilton Head, not nursing home!

Ti amo mia bella figlia.

(Image courtesy of Pinterest)