What I Would Tell Her: Parenting Reflections on the Drive to College
Carly Andrews, Executive Director for The Alliance for Early Childhood
The days are long, but the years are short. The familiar adage is taking on new meaning this summer, as we get ready to take our daughter to college. We’ve been purchasing sheet sets and towels, squeezing in a roadtrip around work obligations and an 18-year-old’s busy social life, and feeling the full weight of how time passes. It goes so fast.
Moments like these invite reflection, and, sometimes, a rush of what-ifs. It’s natural to wonder if you did enough, were present enough, or made the most of the time you had. And while those questions can help us chart our course, I find myself thinking less about what I would change, and more about what I’d want my younger self to know, the one just starting out on this parenting journey.
If I could sit beside that younger version of myself – the one pacing the room with a crying baby, or quietly celebrating when I could walk by her classroom without her tears (I was the head of school there) – I wouldn’t offer advice so much as reassurance. I’d tell her she’s doing enough: Love shows up in all kinds of messy, imperfect ways. The things that feel ordinary – the bath routines, the bedtime stories, the messy recipes we made together – are the moments our relationship is built upon.
All the things we did in those early years – answering her cries in the middle of the night, holding her close, and making the food that she loved at every stage – were our way of saying: you belong in this world and your needs matter. All the advice from well-meaning friends and relatives, and the countless “sleep experts”, mattered far less than learning to trust our own inner-knowing.
The things that took me away from her – a job I loved, responsibilities in the community – were also part of the life she watched me build: one centered on connection, service, and love. I look back now and wish for more time. I know I spent too many hours at work – and, yes, I would change some of that. But I also honor the five or ten minutes we spent together doing something we both loved. Those small pockets of presence, those moments of connection, mattered more than all the quantity of hours I thought I needed to give.
As we drive her to college and help her settle into this next chapter, I’m trying to honor all that has come before – with patience, with compassion for the parent I was, and with a quiet commitment to showing up. Time is still unrelenting, but I know it’s the small moments of connection and presence that shape a relationship – and make a life.
