Alright, grab your coffee (or wine, no judgment here), because we need to talk about the absurdly hilarious yet totally gut-wrenching moment when your child goes off to college. It’s like watching them bungee jump—except you’re the one who’s tied to the cord.

Let me kick this off with a tale that perfectly sums up what life is like when your kid thinks they’re a grown-up, but reality is out here serving them a slice of humble pie...with a side of Texas-sized roach.

The Day Rufus the Roach Met My Son

So, my son is now living his dream at Texas A&M University-Corpus Christi (TAMUCC). Campus on the beach? Check. Palm trees? Check. Ocean breeze? Check. Humidity so thick you can wear it like a blanket? Oh, double-check. Now, TAMUCC didn’t exactly advertise this next part, but here’s a fun fact: Palm trees are like five-star hotels for flying cockroaches. And some Texans, bless their hearts, call them water bugs—as if that’s going to make them sound more like a charming poolside companion than Satan’s house pet. As a fellow Texan, I call them the Superman roaches—if Superman was a creepy, flying nightmare in desperate need of a restraining order.

Now, my son isn’t exactly what you’d call rugged. He’s more “theatre kid meets germaphobe,” and the type who treats shared drinks like they’re biohazard material. “Eww, germs!” is basically his catchphrase. Anyway, back to the story. Yesterday morning, I got a call from him, and he recounts the horror that befell him that morning.

Picture this: It’s a regular college day. He wakes up, casually scrolls through TikTok (as one does when avoiding responsibility), and heads to the bathroom to brush his teeth. He’s living his best, carefree freshman life. But as he’s walking away from the sink, something in the mirror catches his eye.

Wait. Is that—something—on his back? Surely not.

Oh, but it is.

As a creative writer who’s binged more true crime than is probably healthy, here’s how the scene unfolds in my mind: cue dim lighting and suspenseful music. My precious germophobic offspring spins around like he’s in an exorcism, trying to get a look at whatever horror is clinging to his shirt. It’s like a slow-motion thriller, but what he finally sees is enough to send him straight into cardiac arrest: a FOUR-INCH FLYING ROACH, a.k.a. Rufus the Roach (I name him because I'm paying his rent), comfortably lounging on his back like it’s catching some rays at the TAMUCC beach.

I’m on the phone, trying to sound calm while tears of laughter stream down my face. Years of stepping on legos barefoot in the dead of night, of listening to him whine about my mom germs when I offer him my cup to drink, of all the ridiculous, irrational things he’s been scared of— JUNE BUGS—  and this is how the universe pays me back? A giant flying cockroach on his back? Chef’s kiss.

After some top-tier maternal guidance (aka me Googling “how to kill a flying cockroach from 400 miles away”), we devise a plan involving bug spray, sticky traps, and an electric fly swatter that’s probably banned in 15 countries. He manages to dislodge poor Rufus, who is probably just trying to major in Beach Studies, and peace is restored. But I’m still cackling at the image of my son—grown-ish and supposedly capable of surviving without me—losing his mind over Rufus the Roach.

So, You Sent Your Kid to College—Now What?

That whole cockroach saga got me thinking: What happens to us moms when our kids go off to college? Sure, they’re having bug-related existential crises, but what about us? It’s not like we suddenly just kick back and become empty-nesters sipping margaritas by the pool. (Okay, maybe we do that sometimes, but mostly we’re panic-Googling, “How often is it okay to call your college kid without annoying them?”)

This transition is wild. For 18 years, we’ve been their everything—chauffeur, chef, emotional support animal—and now, we’re supposed to just let go? Yeah, sure, sounds totally reasonable.

But the truth is, this whole phase is more of a mental ninja challenge than we expect. So, what can we do to survive—and maybe even thrive—when we’re no longer packing lunches and reminding them to wear deodorant?

How to Stay Connected Without Being THAT Mom

Step one in the Great College Transition: Don’t be a helicopter mom. Or at least, don’t be an obvious one. We don’t need our kids rolling their eyes every time our number pops up on their phone.

- Establish communication rituals: Agree on a time or day when you’ll chat. Sunday nights? Perfect. You get to hear about their week, and they get to prove they’re still alive and somewhat functioning as adults.

- Get creative with care packages: Show them love through snacks, laundry detergent, and random “I saw this and thought of you” goodies. They’ll appreciate it more than they’ll admit (and bonus points if you throw in bug spray).

- Social media stalk responsibly: Sure, follow them on Instagram, but for the love of Rufus, do not comment on everything. Give them space to live their life without Mom emoji-bombing their posts.

Encouraging Friendships (and Letting Them Make Mistakes)

It’s tempting to want to be their life coach, therapist (especially when you are one), and best friend all rolled into one, but the best thing we can do for them is encourage them to figure it out on their own.

- Get involved, but don’t overdo it: Ask about their roommate, but don’t schedule a family FaceTime with them. Encourage them to join clubs, meet people, and (gasp) talk to strangers (I see you fellow Gen Xers).

- Let them mess up: They’ll forget to do laundry. They’ll run out of meal swipes. They’ll maybe even wear dirty socks because, well, they’re “saving time.” Resist the urge to swoop in like a superhero mom. They’ll learn—and the lessons stick better when they do.

Coping with Letting Go (While Secretly Keeping a Tab Open)

Let’s be real, letting go feels like jumping out of a plane without a parachute sometimes. But here’s the thing: We’ve already taught them how to fly. Now, it’s their turn to test those wings.

- Find a hobby, Mom!: Yes, I’m serious. Pick up that thing you used to love doing before kids, or try something completely new. Salsa dancing? Pottery class? You do you.

- Reconnect with yourself (and your people): Your kid isn’t the only one starting a new chapter—you are, too. Hang out with old friends, plan date nights, or enjoy the rare quiet (-er if you still have some younger tax write-offs) in the house.

And, for the record, it’s okay to cry a little. Just don’t let your tears drown the cockroaches.

So there you have it, fellow moms of college-bound kids. We’ve launched them into the world (literally, in some cases, with the force of a flying roach). We’ve done our part. Now it’s time to sit back, enjoy the ride—and maybe stock up on bug spray.

About the author

Chelsea Jackson Garcia is a Licensed Professional Counselor (LPC) in Texas and an NBCC National Certified Counselor. She owns SHAW Psychotherapy, an inclusive private practice in Waco, TX, specializing in adolescents and women.

Disclaimer: The information presented and contained is for entertainment value only (Just remember, laughter is great, but therapy is even better) and should not be construed as mental health service or medical care.