Denise Snodell: The lives of parents are still tied to school

Every January, there’s a collective sigh in coffee shops, on Facebook, across phone signals, around office breakrooms, along walking trails. You’ll hear this sigh any place parents of college students might dwell. It’s an Eeyore kind of an exhale. We’re all gloomy and pouty. The kids have returned to campus for too many more months. Poof. They are gone. Again.

The winter semester break blows in a certain kind of cold, crazy mind game. For a fast month, families pick up as if nothing had ever changed. The kids have never been away. We are “us” again. The old team. Even our washing machines hum in perpetual spin cycles, like they used to do in the days of forever.

Part of me never considers that my guys are going to haul out of here again. I suspend time. I relish in tripping over their shoes and duffel bags and device chargers. Flotsam love. Who knew? A grin washes over my face when I squint at my beside clock at 2 a.m., 3 a.m., whenever they slink through the front door after catching up with their high school besties. Every one of these young men, including my sons, appears taller, hairier and more confident.

But now, in this second half of January, we parents of coeds have reverted back to buying quarts of milk instead of gallons. Once again, the dishwasher seems to take forever to fill. Why do we even have a dishwasher, or, for that matter, why is that basketball goal still flanking the driveway? The netting is turning mossy and black. What are the odds my husband and I will challenge each other to a pickup game? Yet it stands there, like a tall soldier, waiting.

Indoors, at least, I have done something about the oversized wall calendar with the big squares. It’s gone. Finally, finally this year I remembered to purchase a smaller version. No more Scout meetings, saxophone lessons, school conferences, orthodontic appointments or science Olympiads to jot down. Just scattered scribbles of this and that, haircut reminders, the occasional party, my husband’s moving target dental checkups. And yet, there’s still white space.

Here’s the upside: We’re all going to be OK. I’m more than a week ahead of most parents who might still be all droopy, chomping on thistles. Both of my boys had obligations at their respective campuses 10 days before their official breaks ended. They gathered up their scattered things and bolted early. Guess what — I’m fine.

The first week brings the loudest quiet. But then you realize, time must not stand still. What parent on earth wants an endless cacophony of Mario Brothers “music” rising up from the basement? How many meet-the-teacher nights can one human endure? Who wants to spend an eternity buying project poster board at midnight?

Not one of us. We want to wave at our kids from the end of the driveway as they head off to the next semester. We want to watch them round the corner at the end of the street, and think to ourselves, “Look at that perfect full stop and automatic use of a turn signal. I taught him how to do that. Go get ’em, kid!”

As the car disappears, we parents will turn to each other with glassy eyes. We’ll blink a few times. We’ll look up at that basketball hoop, then at each other, and say, “Wanna play?” 　　

This story was originally published January 26, 2016 at 4:14 PM with the headline "Denise Snodell: The lives of parents are still tied to school."