College Bound?
Move-In Day: A Love Story (with Tears, Tension Rods, and Waffle Fries
Short answer: Yes.
Long answer: Yes, but know when to back away from the color-coded calendar and put down the tension rod.
Your student may welcome your help… until you start staging their succulents like it’s a Pottery Barn shoot. Think: HGTV meets emotional hostage negotiation. They’re grateful. They’re overwhelmed. And they’d like you to stop measuring the “vibe.”
Pro tip: If they start calling you “roommate,” it’s time to exit, stage left.
How Much Help Is Too Much Help?
If you find yourself labeling their snack bins or using the phrase “We’ll organize your sock drawer later,” you’ve crossed the line.
This is their space now — even if half of it is crammed under a lofted bed and smells like instant ramen. Your role? Helpful Sherpa. Not overzealous set designer. Offer, support, then step aside. You’re not being abandoned — you’re being gently demoted to emotional support human.
Bonus litmus test: If the RA starts making eye contact like they’re trapped in a hostage scenario, retreat.
What Are Freshmen Bringing These Days?
Three ring lights, a weighted blanket, a blender they’ll use once for protein sludge, and a collapsible ottoman “for storage” that’ll just hold laundry.
Welcome to the “Checklist of Doom.”
The good news? They’ll mostly use:
- Sweatpants
- Phone charger
- The same three mugs (one for coffee, one for soup, one mysteriously for Q-tips)
MVPs:
âś… Shower flip-flops
âś… Fridge caddy
❌ Fondue pot (unless they’re majoring in ’70s dinner parties)
First-Day Feelings (For Parents)
You’re not weak. You’re human. And yes, you will cry in a fast food parking lot.
We see you. Sitting behind the Student Union, sobbing into waffle fries and trying to play it cool while texting “Just checking in… everything ok?” fourteen times.
Let it out. Cry in the car. Call a friend. Eat the second Chick-fil-A sandwich you said was “for later.” This is big. You raised a college kid. You earned those tears — and the fries.
The Parent Move-In Day Survival Kit
- Tissues (for eyes, nose, or dramatic goodbye waves)
- Wine (for post-goodbye decompression, not mid-hallway hydration)
- Group chat with other parents (for memes, mild panic, emotional triage)
- Spotify playlist: “They Still Love You (Probably)”
Bonus points for packing your sense of humor. You’ll need it by hour two of “no AC but yes beanbag.”
How to Say Goodbye (Without Clinging to Their Leg Like a Toddler at Drop-Off)
Here’s your script:
“Love you. So proud. Call if you need anything. Including a replacement shower curtain because this one is aggressively mushrooms.”
Then go. Clean exit. Don’t hover. Don’t tidy. Don’t ask if they need backup pillows. You’ve got this.
Bottom Line:
You’re not just leaving your kid at college — you’re launching them into a new world. One where they’ll stumble, grow, and probably forget to do laundry until the scent reminds them.
You’ll always be their parent. But now you’re the off-site support team. With snacks. And wisdom. And a sixth sense for when “I’m fine” means “Please send socks.”
So go ahead. Cry if you need to. Laugh while you’re at it. And maybe… call. Just not every 20 minutes.