Okay, okay, I get it. Mr. Philately has put ice on the bump on my head and I have spent the day picking up the odd bits of �fear about not enough sleep,� �fear of her being taken advantage of,� and �fear that she is unhappy,� and put them back in their places. I even used the opportunity to try to install a new organizational system so the flotsam and jetsam will stay in place (and we all know how much I love to organize). I have closed the door to my closet of anxieties and secured it with a padlock. I have done it so well that I haven�t even though to obsess on whether I�ll remember the combination because I AM a mother. I�ll remember the combination---and I�ll be tempted to unlock the door someday too. But if Kat is lucky, I�ll wait a few weeks.

Sending a child off somewhere is not particularly new to me. I�ve sent my children to camp before and I�ve sent them off to spend a week with various relatives. I�ve lived through having my children with my parents out of town AND their being in a car accident without missing too many heartbeats. So I thought this transition would go smoothly. I�ve prided myself on my ability to let go fairly well. I was kidding myself. Letting go is hard.

And this time is different. Before, I felt as though I was loaning my child somewhere else. This time, she�s establishing herself as an adult and my role is changing. �Mom� has to be redefined. And I promise, Kat, I�m working on it. But I�m new at this one and you�ll have to be patient---with both of us.

But, if I have to miss the mark sometimes, and do my learning in public, I could do worse. I could do worse than the loving support that came with Doug�s wisdom. I could do far worse than the relatively gentle upbraiding I received (especially as gentle is not one of the first words that comes to mind when I think of my older daughter.) I could do worse than having managed to teach my child to push back, gently, respectfully, when a push back is needed. And I could do worse than having her do it so eloquently.

Really, when all is said and done, what more could a mother and writer hope for?

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