Going New Zealand

I had dinner with a friend recently whose youngest child just went away to college. Many of my friends are now experiencing, some for the first time, the empty next phenom. I myself had this experience far too early in my child’s life (but that’s a whole ‘nother story).

I think all parents, at one time or another, but usually on those Tuesday nights when you had to work late, your kid has a ball game in fifteen minutes, there is absolutely not one clean towel in the house, you’re frantically searching for a missing cleat, everybody is generally starving, and ohmygod where the HELL are your car keys you just had them a second ago, and your kid picks this moment to announce he has a science project due TOMORROW, all parents (or all Mommies at least) resort to that same magic thought:

When he/she/they grow up and go away to college? I’m gonna sleep all day every Saturday. I’m gonna soak in an uninterrupted bubble bath every single night. I’m gonna take control of the remote? And never let it go…etc.

And while that’s a really nice concept? It just doesn’t work that way in real life.

Unless, of course, you’re a Dad.

Because Dads are different. I call it the New Zealand Effect.

I know a Dad (who shall remain nameless) who put their child on a plane to New Zealand and, because I was with said Dad for the entire eight days their child was out of the country, I know. This Dad? This Dad did not spend one second of his time worrying/obsessing/freaking out about their child’s extremely remote whereabouts.

Instead, this Dad went calmly about his business for the duration of the trip and then proceeded to forget what time this child’s return plane was landing, prompting said child to borrow a friend’s cell phone and remind this Dad, “Hello? It’s me, your child? At the airport?” Of course, this Dad (without a second’s guilt mind you—CHUCKLING about it, even) jumped in his car and went and picked up the child.

And life went on as normal.

A Mom in this situation?

Well, a Mom would spend the duration of the flight (which she would learn immediately including flight number) convinced she was keeping the aircraft aloft with just her thoughts. She would need a phone call upon touchdown, a regular check-in call…etc.

A Mom would know and be able to immediately calculate (even though she normally sucks at math) the time differential between the US and New Zealand and thus always be able to envision her child at any given moment and what they should be doing i.e., waking, lunching, flossing (as if!).

A Mom would know what time the return flight was taking off (in New Zealand and US time), and would be aware of the exact times and durations of any connecting flights and or layovers. A Mom would again keep the craft aloft with her superior mental powers, and if necessary, be more than happy to join those guys that signal airplanes with the orange-coned flashlights on the tarmac in guiding her child’s plane safely to the proper gate.

Unfortunately, these handy Mommy skills that kick in some time during the third trimester and are oh so necessary for the next eighteen years or so are utterly useless when your little darling strikes out on his or her own.

Basically, literally over night in many cases, a Mommy has to go New Zealand (Daddy-style).

And it’s a whole lot harder than it sounds.

The freight train of evolutionary instinct that is Motherhood just doesn’t stop on a dime. Oh no. You gotta apply the air brake and then the thing screeches on down the track for miles afterward.

The good news? The good news is that, when your child’s plane comes in for a landing and you don’t know about it? They’ll call.

Eventually, you learn to negotiate a new sort of relationship. And come to know your child as a friend which is probably the most rewarding of all stages of parenthood.

Occasionally, you’ll have to reach back into your uber-Mommy skill set. They’ll actually need you to guide them to the gate with your orange flashlight. Which, as a well prepared Mommy, you always keep handy on a nearby shelf. Because you knew this would happen sooner or later.

More and more often though, your child learns to stand on his or her own.

And so do you.