As the senior year of my youngest child unfolds, I find myself reflecting on the bittersweet journey of parenting. This is the third segment of a yearlong series where I share my experiences as a stay-at-home mom navigating my daughter’s last year of high school and the college application process. It’s also about my personal transition towards an empty nest and contemplating my next steps as my primary role as a caregiver draws to a close.
Three years ago, when my youngest daughter, Lily, was gearing up to start high school, a friend of mine was preparing to send her last child off to college. I remember constantly asking her, “How does it feel?” My inquiries were fueled by jealousy, fear, hope, and disbelief—I simply couldn’t fathom that my own little girl would one day leave for college. At that time, she was just 14, and I was still grappling with the challenges of my older daughter’s turbulent high school years. Even though my first child was heading off to college, I felt as if I was stuck in a time loop with Lily, convinced that senior year would never arrive.
“It’s hard to believe,” my friend replied, “and it’s going to be strange.” For the first time in over two decades, she and her husband would find themselves alone in their home, with all three of their children in college simultaneously.
I began to sign off our emails with my name and the countdown of years and months left until Lily would depart for college. “Three years, 18 months,” I recall typing in one email. Then, “two years, 11 months.” I wasn’t trying to rush time, but I guess I was subconsciously preparing myself for the inevitable reality that she would leave.
Yesterday, as I baked a batch of red velvet cookies—her current favorite—I realized that my cookie-baking days for her are numbered. What will it feel like when I no longer mix batter for her cookies twice a week or whip up her beloved double-chocolate breakfast muffins every Sunday?
Of course, I can still send her cookies when she goes off to college. I can envision boxes filled with treats, carefully labeled with a P.O. Box number in bold black marker, racing to the post office to ensure they arrive fresh. She will share them with her roommate and friends, regaling them with tales of how her mom has always baked for her, making her the most popular girl in the dorm. But I know it won’t be the same, and this realization is a significant part of my journey through her senior year.
I’ve always been a creature of habit, preferring predictability in everything from restaurant choices to daily routes. The uncertainty of this senior year is challenging my comfort zone. Lily has applied to ten colleges—a balanced mix of targets, reaches, and safety options—and she claims she would be happy at any of them. That’s the crux of it: her happiness.
Next year, I might be sending cookies across the country or just to a neighboring state. Maybe I’ll be close enough to deliver them right to her dorm. The lack of certainty is unsettling for me, but it’s a reality I must face. Unpredictability is a big part of senior year—for both the student and the parents.
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In summary, as I approach the end of my daughter’s high school journey, I find myself cherishing the small moments like baking cookies while also grappling with the inevitable changes that lie ahead. The uncertainty of this transition year challenges my comfort zone, but it also reminds me of the joy that comes with watching my child grow and embrace new opportunities.