Aug 31, 2018 3 min read

It’s not necessarily a good thing that my long-overdue purchase of a new smartphone coincided with my daughter starting college. What better way to stay in constant yet unnecessary contact with a newly adult young one than through the genius of an iPhone?

The answer to that, as she warned me more than once, is that I shouldn’t be staying in constant contact. As the big day of her freshman move-in approached, she was already asking me to back off – going so far as to request that I not go with her that day.

“But that would be like my not going to your wedding,” I said, holding back tears.

“See, what did I tell you,” she said. “If you come, you will cry, and then I’ll cry.” And obviously, we can’t have that sort of thing on the first day of her official adult life.

With texting and FaceTime and all the other ways to keep track, it’s tempting to shout across the miles every 20 minutes. Did you eat? Are you sleeping? How was class today? Feeling well? If I were to succumb to my twitchy finger, she would be getting a leaky-faucet drip of mothering all day long. And isn’t one of the main advantages of college life to finally escape that?

And so I promised her – and myself – that I would check in just once each evening. If she needed something, she would call.

Turns out I am a liar, and also an over-motherer. Those first few days were the hardest for me. Classes would not start until after the weekend, and a big, anxious question mark perched itself over my head. Midway through day two, I caved and texted. Her answer was a breezy, short, “Yep.”

Isn’t it funny how we raise these children to be independent, to fledge and make their way without us. And then, when they do dare to fly off, we run after them with a big butterfly net … and I realize I mixed my metaphors there.

I don’t remember any phone calls in either direction when I was a college freshman. To make or receive a call required a quarter, or a charge on the dorm phone bill. Still, it wouldn’t have occurred to me to check in to report my emotional status every few hours, or even every day. I was too busy being important and fabulous to bother.

Much is said about how smartphones are damaging our kids by, among other things, taking away their ability to communicate in person or through letters. I think smartphones are bad for parents, too. They’re turning us into wimps.

And so, I’ve backed off, limiting myself to one text per night. But, oh, how I look forward to that. One short text from her satisfies a whole day of wondering how she’s doing.

So far, she always responds. Sometimes it’s a word or two, and sometimes it’s a heart emoji. Last night, eight days into her new life, there was this text:

“I like it here, Mommy. Thank you.”

It felt like I was opening a handwritten letter home.

Beth Dolinar can be reached at cootiej@aol.com.