Here's the latest Smartmom from the Brooklyn Paper.

Like Smartmom herself, quite a few Park Slope moms are getting ready
to send their first child to college or on a gap year next fall. It’s a
major transition and one that is likely to bring tears to their eyes.

“It’s the end of all the fun we had together as a family,” one friend told Smartmom the other day. “The end of all that.”

Smartmom listened with empathy, but for the life of her, she
couldn’t remember the last time that she and her crew actually had fun
as a family. Who has the time or energy for family Scrabble games or
sing-a-longs by the Casio piano?

Smartmom and family do co-exist in an interesting way — and there’s
nothing like a Monday night spent watching “House,” “Gossip Girl” and
“Heroes” to make them all feel bonded and close.

But it doesn’t make her sad that Teen Spirit is about to graduate
high school because she knows that he is ready to move on. And so is
she.

Still, Smartmom wondered if she was only going to miss the laughter,
the fun, the good times — or was she going to miss the stress and the
agitation; the meltdowns and fights.

At the thought of all those less-than-pleasant moments, Smartmom
began to feel an emotional pang that spread across her chest like
heartburn (no, she wasn’t having a coronary, just a little heartbreak).
And then she understood what was going on.

Smartmom was having an empty-nest attack. She’d heard about them.
They can hit you when you least expect and cause tears and heart
palpitations out of the blue. One friend started crying so hard
listening to the “Pinocchio” song in the car, she had to pull over. For
another, the breakdown came in Little Things Toy Store. Still another
got emotional at the smell of Pino’s Pizzeria.

Smartmom didn’t think it would happen to her, but there it was:
stark emotional pain at the thought of losing her first born to
adulthood. She felt pierced by the sting of mortality: where did the
time go? Who is that tall handsome man in the living room?

Then, like some mild form of post traumatic stress disorder,
Smartmom experienced a rapid montage of flashbacks: she remembered all
the times that she shut herself in her bedroom to avoid the high-volume
sound of Teen Spirit’s musical improvisations; all the times she felt
barraged by the large group of friends he brought home for a sleepover;
all the Saturday nights at 4 am when Teen Spirit forgot his key and she
or Hepcat had to get out of bed to open the front door.

These hallucinations were vivid and sensorial: she could practically
smell the cigarettes on his jean jacket; see his eyes roll when she
expressed her opinions; and feel manipulated when he acted so sweetly
when he needed spending money.

The more she thought about it, the more she realized just how much
she was going to miss Teen Spirit’s high school years. Who was she
going to worry about? Who would she observe and analyze endlessly? How
would she fill all that vacant anxiety time? She’s been his mother for
18 years — how was she going to survive without him?

The more she remembered, the worse she felt. Like her friends, she
was getting emotional at the drop of a hat. While one part of her
welcomes this major transition and is curious about what kind of life
Teen Spirit is going to invent for himself, another part of her is
scared to death that he’ll decide to live far away and won’t write,
visit or call.

Perhaps the hardest part is learning to accept that he’s going to be
on his own and she won’t have any control anymore. More than anything,
this transition is about letting go and taking a leap of faith that
everything will work out.

All this reminded Smartmom of another friend, the mother of twins,
who sent her girls off to college last fall. For months, she was an
emotional wreck about life without her girls. She was scared, nervous
and unsure of who she would be without them. She didn’t have a picture
of what her life would be like after they left.

But off they went. Things were hard at first. But after a while, her
friend got used to life in her empty nest. She enjoyed hearing about
the experiences that her two daughters were having at different liberal
arts colleges in New England. But she also enjoyed the extra pockets of
time she had to devote to her creative work and her husband. She
regained a bit of herself in the process.

That sounds nice, but Smartmom isn’t there yet. For the time being,
she knows she has to brace herself for frequent empty-nest attacks.
It’s anyone’s guess what will bring them on: tripping over one of Teen
Spirit’s shoes left in the hallway; a big mess in the kitchen after he
makes a snack; another fight about that English paper that’s due.

Come to think of it, she’ll probably have one on Mother’s Day — her
last one with her boy before he goes off and starts his life.