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Happiness expert shares blunt advice for empty nesters: Stop smothering your college aged kids

This tough love advice comes from happiness researcher Gretchen Rubin.

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Gretchen Rubin blew some parents' minds by saying they only need calls once a week.

If you’re a parent of a college student, you’re all-too familiar with that strange, bittersweet ache that shows up once the house gets quiet.

Yes, everything stays cleaner for longer. Yes, there’s FINALLY peace in a way you always said you wanted. And yet, in that newly found space…you feel the tug of longing.

Despite being incredibly proud that your child is out there building a life that’s truly their own, it’s impossible not to miss those small, ordinary, yet oh-so precious moments: the casual check-ins, the “what’s for dinner” texts, the sound of them coming home.

You hope that a phone call—or two, or seven—each week might help fill that void. And when those calls get fewer and farther between…torture. Pure torture.

And as it turns out, according to happiness expert and author Gretchen Rubin, that distance can actually be a healthy sign of growth for both parent and child. In fact, in a recent episode of the Laugh Lines podcast, Rubin told hosts Kim and Penn Holderness that when it comes to keeping in touch with your college-aged kids, once a week is plenty.

If hearing this left you aghast, you’re not alone. Many parents, including Kim and Penn, were shook.

“That…was a dagger,” said Penn. Meanwhile, Kim just let out a gut wrenching “AGGGGGH.”

But Rubin’s tough love advice is rooted in compassion and sound reasoning. The first few months away from home can be overwhelming. College students are balancing classes, friendships, self-discovery, and, for the first time, life without a built-in safety net. Sometimes, fewer calls aren’t a sign of disconnection. They’re merely a sign of your kid adjusting to a new life. And pretty well too, if they’re not having to call home every minute of every day.

That said, Rubin added that, “I think if you have a communicative child, that’s wonderful.”

For those times when the calls do happen, Rubin encouraged parents to “keep it positive” and avoid what she calls “interviewing for pain.’” In other words, those well-meaning questions that come from love but land a little heavy.

Examples:

“Are you still fighting with your roommate all the time?”

“Is the food still bad?”

“How's that working out with all those girls sharing one bathroom?”

Rubin explains that these kinds of questions can make kids relive the rough parts instead of focusing on what’s going right. She argues that parents can do more good by guiding the conversations towards small wins, curiosity, and joy.

empty nest, kids in college, parents, parenting, holderness family, gretchen rubin, college, parenting advice It's not an empty nest. It's an open door. Photo credit: Canva

Her wisdom goes even deeper. “Sometimes parents will say, ‘I’m so sad, but they’re so happy. They’re having so much fun.’ But even that,” she said, “is a lot of pressure for a child to feel like, ‘Well, I have to be happy.’ Parents always say, ‘You’re only as happy as your least happy child,’ but I think for some children, ‘I’m only as happy as my least happy parent.’ And managing the happiness of a parent is very, very hard.”

Of course, other parents had mixed feelings about Rubin’s advice. Many admitted that they certainly did not live by that frequency.

“Once a weekkkkkkk. Hell no. I talked to my mom every day basically. I feel like that’s appropriate 😂”

“Once a week? Absolutely not. I’m in my 40’s and I talk to my mom every day.😂”

Still others brought up the fact that sometimes kids will avoid calling just when they need support the most.

“We text once a day. I require 1 FaceTime a week.. I have a son who’s 9 hours away. My first went 13 hours away and called weekly with amazing stories. I found out later when he was hospitalized due to anxiety that all his stories were lies to appease me.”

“Love Gretchen but on this I don’t agree. I’m the oldest. Someone told my mom to not call at all and wait for me to call them. Meanwhile at college, I was waiting for a call hoping someone missed me or was interested in my life at all…. I waited over 3 weeks for someone to call or ask ‘how are you?’ and it broke me…I would say it’s more important to know your child and just ask what they want or need.”

Understanding your child’s individual wants and needs is crucial, but Rubin’s essential message remains pretty universal: our kids shouldn’t have to carry the weight of our emotions while they’re figuring out their own. Letting them go doesn’t mean losing touch. It means trusting that love can hold steady across distance and time.

Whether it’s a once-a-week call, a once-a-month call, or a once-a-day call, remember that it’s more about maintaining a loving connection than about keeping tabs. It’s certainly no easy task, but kids need to know their parents are cheering them on from home, even when they’re too busy becoming themselves.

At the end of the day, parenting is an exercise in radical trust. Both of your child, and of yourself.

You can watch the full episode of the Laugh Lines podcast below:

- YouTube www.youtube.com

I find myself struggling under the weight of change. My heart is simultaneously so full and yet shattered into a thousand pieces.

I am teary all the time. There's a heaviness on my shoulders that I'm not sure will ever go away.


My baby is about to leave the nest.

My high schooler.

Sure, I know what they say. I know this is an exciting time. I know he's better off launching into the world and growing into a responsible adult.

I know I will adapt to him being gone. I know he's not dying. I am extremely proud of what he's become and what he’s going to be. I know he's healthy, competent, and strong. I know that I don't want him living in my basement until he's 40. I know how lucky I am. I know this.

But I cannot seem make my heart understand what my mind knows.

All the many sleepless nights rocking a newborn in the moonlight of a tiny apartment, I dreamed of what he'd become.

Bleary-eyed and exhausted, I soaked it up as best I could. Later, as I wiped peanut butter off sticky fingers after his lunch every day, I fervently longed for when he'd learn to do it himself.

With each tantrum and missed nap, I'd ache for just a few minutes of alone time. When I had a baby girl in the shopping cart and felt frazzled as I struggled to herd two wandering little boys, I groaned and fantasized about doing the shopping without them.

A lot of those days, I found myself wishing for time to move faster. Life with young children was a never-ending glance at the clock on the wall, minutes sometimes ticking by so slowly they felt like hours. If I could just make it until nap time. Or bedtime. Or Friday evening at last.

Watching a child grow up can go by quickly. Image from iStock.

The dirty trick no one tells you is that one day, you will spend every minute wishing for the opposite: watching the clock and willing it to stop.

They never tell you that your heart will hurt and swell at the thought of time moving forward. And move forward it will, at a pace so rapid your head will spin.

You will wish and pray for just a few more months or hours or minutes with these babies. Few people ever warn you that you'll look back and wonder if you appreciated it enough, loved them enough, taught them enough.

I have worked for 18 long years for these exact results, and yet I feel unrealistically angry at my own success.

I have achieved the perfectly predictable end to the story I have spent years writing. I have worked myself out of the job. I knew this was the outcome of the path I was on, but now that I'm here, I want a different one. One where I get to have my cake and eat it, too. One where my son flourishes and grows, yet never leaves my side.

Is that too much to ask of the universe?

And if I can't have that, then I at least want a do-over.

My young man.

I want to hold him one more time in the moonlight of that crappy apartment, smell his sweetness, and lose an entire day with him in my arms.

Watching your children leave the nest can be exciting and scary. Image from iStock.

I want to see those sticky fingers grasp at Cheerios on a tray and rejoice when he can finally pinch one between them and raise it triumphantly to his lips. I want to see that toothless kindergarten grin look for me in the crowd of parents during the painful squeaks of the beginner violin concert and watch his eyes light up when he finds me. I want it so badly that every cell in my body just aches.

But that's the thing about this story: We don't get a different ending.

We get this one. We build our lives around these busy, toddling, energetic, lovable creatures, and they walk right out of it. We are left with a hole in our heart where their daily presence used to be — an ache that will never be filled because the life we had built with them in it is forever changed.

Stevie Nicks brilliantly said it best:

"And can I sail through the changing ocean tides / Can I handle the seasons of my life? / Oh oh I don't know, oh I don't know / Well, I've been afraid of changing / 'Cause I've built my life around you / But time makes you bolder / Even children get older / And I'm getting older too."

I know I'll be OK and find myself eventually on the other side of this long, lonely bridge.

I know it's not the end.

But it's the end of something; it's the end of something pretty spectacular. And I just can't help but wish it wasn't so.