that's life Sending the kids back to school

THREE RIVERS AREA — Oh, what a difference a few years make.

It seems like only yesterday that it was the night before kindergarten for my firstborn, and after I tore myself away from hugging him after I tucked him into bed, I got in the shower and cried. OK, sobbed.

The day before he went off to his sophomore year of college this year, I asked him if he needed anything. The only thing he could think of was detergent. So, I grabbed detergent and some shampoo for him at the store and checked out. I saw a friend shopping with her college-age son, cart full of stuff.

The night before he moved into his on-campus apartment, about my bedtime, he started getting ready.

He crammed his sheets in a backpack and grabbed a few clothes out of his closet. As he put his toiletries in a Walmart sack, he paused in the hallway and said to me, "This might be the last time I ever live at home."

"Where are you going to live next summer?" I asked, not believing him.

"In an apartment," he said.

"What do you mean in an apartment?" I asked.

"What do you mean, what do I mean?" (Communicating with men is hard enough, with sons it can sometimes be impossible.)

I asked how he would be able to afford it, and he said he'd get a job.

I mentioned going with him to his apartment, and he informed me I was not invited the first day. I could come "later."

I think "later" means when none of his roommates are home for me to interrogate. I mean talk to.

I informed him that I have my own vehicle, and I will come whenever I want to.

It was a different situation with my 16-year-old going back to school this year, too.

It's a new campus, and now he can drive himself.

He said he didn't need school supplies until his teachers told him what to buy. So, I rummaged in his older brother's closet, found a package of unopened notebook paper and threwit on his bed. Done.

When I got up for work, he was already awake - and had been for an hour. He said he couldn't sleep.

I left at 6 a.m. with him playing a video game. I only felt like a slightly horrible mother as I yelled, "Have a good day at school" and left.

I thought back to his first day of kindergarten. I got a call near the end of the day from the counselor, who told me he wasn't following the rules.

Already? How many rules could there be that he could already have broken?

For one thing, the teacher asked the children to draw a picture of themselves. Scott got a red crayon and drew a spiral across the page.

When the teacher told him that no, she wanted a picture of him, he looked up at her and said: "It's a roller coaster - I'm on it."

I figured it was going to be a loooong year.

I came home from work last week and found my college-age son had come back for morestuff - the ugly coffee table he'd used in the dorm room was gone, which I'll admit, made me happy.

At a wedding shower last weekend, I was saying how I was going to have to readjust and get sad all over again with him leaving. My brother said, "Wait a minute, I thought you didn't like him being home with all his stuff."

One wise woman in the group said, "She's just a mother."

Yep. We hang on tight when we can, but we also have to know when to let go.