Kevin leaves for college on Saturday and that simple fact has caused me to turn into a broody mother hen.

I’m trying to be good and not pass on my fears to him, or project any sense of nervousness about it because he’s dealing with his own issues of packing and planning, of instilling a healthy fear into his siblings about touching his stuff while he’s away, and of wondering how he’ll manage academics with college wrestling.

He’s already made it clear to me that he’s not going to school to learn, but to wrestle- a thought that festers in the wee hours of the morning. And in the afternoon. And the evening.

We send him away with high hopes for a successful future but what if he takes his new found freedom and turns into a complete idiot?

What if he doesn’t make the cut on the wrestling team?

What if someone slips him a Ruffie?

What if his car breaks down during a blizzard?

What if he can’t get his printer to work and I can’t walk him through it over the phone?

What if he goes to bed hungry?

What if he oversleeps?

What if he drops out and becomes a permanent basement dweller?

What if he gets a job near school and doesn’t come home next summer?

What if he meets a girl, falls in love and gets married without telling us?

What if aliens abduct him?

What if aliens abduct me and there’s no one to tell him to look both ways when crossing the busy school parking lot?

There is an infinite amount of what-ifs to consider. This isn’t a dress rehearsal. It’s the real deal. But I don’t know how to make peace with not being able to make sure he made it home before I go to sleep, or to wonder if he’s okay when I haven’t talked to him for days. I’ll try to decipher his Facebook statuses the best I can, but I won’t really know what’s happening in his life or be able to monitor his choices as I have the past 19 years. I liked it much better when I had to help him pull up his pants and clap for him after he pooped in the potty.

My mother is quick to remind me that being a teenager is the death of a child and the birth of an adult- which would explain the mental contractions taking place in my head right now.

Screw this natural “adult birth”.

I WANT A BRAIN EPIDURAL RIGHT NOW!