My son, my baby boy, is moving on campus today. For the past two years, he has lived thousands of miles from me, but with relatives of one sort and another. No animosity. He just grew up and wanted to move away. I don’t blame him; I want to move, too. So I’m not sad, the way some moms are when their child goes off to college. Mostly, I’m excited for him. I love fresh starts, and this is a big one. He’s entering as a junior, having finished his AA at a community college while he waited for residency status. He’s planning a double major, in history and education, planning to teach. He is a great kid.
I am still a mom, though, so I’m worried.
What if his roommates are mean?
What if they are alcoholics?
What if they are loud, mean alcoholics?
Okay, that is all I could think of, so maybe I’m not as worried as I thought I was. He’s moving into an on-campus apartment, so he will have his own teeny tiny bedroom. Even if his roommates are awful, he can always close the door.
But will he? He is my most sociable child, but he has a bad track record with friends, ie he chooses to befriend people who in no way act like his friends. He chooses manipulative users and gets hurt.
Because I am his mom – I blame myself. I must have failed to teach him some vital friend-recognizing skill. Right? Could my sons have a fault that was not caused by me or their dad? Is it my bad genes or my lackluster parenting that caused him to become the most gullible person on earth? Pick one. I do.
I read a book about dealing with manipulative people recently, and I was thinking of sending him a copy. I’m not sure he’d read it, though. Maybe I should summarize it in a youtube video set to music. He might watch that. Would that be overbearing?
I wish I was there. I wish I was making his bed one last time; reminding him to work hard, eat right, get plenty of sleep; organizing his closet; giving him a great big hug because this day is huge. But I’m not there. So I’ll text him and cry a little and pray that his roommates are quiet, kind, teetotallers.