Cutting the cord isn’t easy, no matter what age the babies are

This month is a time for change. With the storms of August, most of us are beset with traumatic changes in our lives. We look back on this month as a time when we lost our control, turned our charges over to someone else’s care, and trusted that we wouldn’t make fools of ourselves sending them on their way.

August saw our babies start pre-school. Our babies enter junior high. Our babies start summer marching band, two-a-day football practices, and cross-country track… and that’s before regular classes start every day about eight o’clock. In August, some of us send our babies to state universities and military posts and firsttime jobs. Those times in our lives make us gasp.

Although our charges don’t want to be called babies, they are. We love them. We’ve taught them all we could. We’ve seen that they are healthy and happy and prepared for the worst, but we pray that they can avoid the worst, and with God’s help and a kind word from someone new, they will want to go back for day number two.

When Number One child went off to kindergarten, we thought she understood “school.” Both of her parents were teachers, and she had spent her fair share of time with chalk in hand, red grading pens, and Big Chief tablets. When she came home that first day, she was full of stories about the new kids, her teacher whom she loved, and the playground. We thought we had nailed it, until that night when I tucked her into bed. “Now we’ll have to go to sleep quickly so you can get up early and get ready for school in the morning.” She jumped up in bed, threw off the cover and screamed, “I have to go back?” I guess in her mind kindergarten was a oneday affair.

When my friend took her daughter to her first day in sixth grade, it was almost as traumatic. Back in the early 1980s the town was divided into separate elementary zones. So, one third of all sixth graders were new kids who saw each other for the first time when they arrived that first August morning for junior high. The line of cars depositing kids snaked around the block, with one goal: to get them out of the car with the least effort. Everything was fine until Jennifer didn’t see anyone she knew. Then she attached herself to the inside of the car like old superglue. My friend tried nudging, begging, and ended up making the block three times before Jennifer recognized someone from fifth grade. Then she was out the door, across the playground, leaving the door open and her mother wiping tears.

High school isn’t so traumatic for most kids, but it is a big change. There are parking lots, boys with whiskers, girls with long legs and short skirts, and teachers who don’t know our babies like we do. Sending them off that first day is hard on the parents. Although not the first cord-cutting, it’s still a time for change and we cling to the comfort of past experiences.

No matter when we face change, we face it with a lump in our throats. Maybe the kids are going to do fine, but those of us turning over the controls to someone else may need a Kleenex and a stiff drink.