As an only child, our daughter has had our undivided attention for the last (nearly) 2 decades, and the last two years, helping her through her final school years, have been like the icing on the cake of what all three of us have put in. Particularly her. She worked her ass off, and that work paid off.
Last week was A-Level Results Day, and in the modern era, some of the stress is alleviated on the day itself. Kids these days can find out - directly from their chosen first choice University - exactly whether they got in or not. Collecting the results themselves from school (along with the utter cringe of watching the 'popular' girls doing that annoying 'leap in the air' thing for photographers) was a lot less stressful, but we were delighted to be able to thank her form tutor for the amount of assistance she'd offered her daughter over those two years. She was brand new to the school in Sixth Form, so was immediately thrown into a situation of unfamiliarity, which her form tutor steered her through admirably.
She made friends, there were ups and downs, there were so many moments where - as a family - the tension bubbled to the surface so I don't want anyone to think it was all plain sailing. It was anything but, and my own ill health and her grandma's ill health had an impact on our kiddo's mindset, yet she still got exactly the results she needed to get her first place University.
The whole day was like a weird hallucination. Once that pressure of those two years was lifted (and the worst pressure that surfaced during the last couple of days before results day began to dissipate) we were all left with a strange lightness of mood. Strange because it felt like we'd missed that for two years, and the sheer and utter relief of not having to spend all day on the phone to try and secure her a place through clearings was palpable. Man, if you could bottle that, it'd be amazing.
There was, of course, never any doubt she'd get a great set of results. None at all, even though our daughter did her very best to convince us that she'd 'tanked' her exams.
There's also no doubt that she has the mindset to be a student. She's extremely passionate about her chosen subject, and I have no doubt in my mind that she'll excel in that subject. We're still worried about her, what parent wouldn't be when their daughter - who has been so close, and (I guess) wrapped up in a protective bubble for most of her life will now be moving to an entirely new city to start her studies.
What I've taken away from this whole experience is that parenting takes effort, and if it's not an effort you're willing to make, that will come out in the way your children grow up. We've always been engaged parents, we've always looked for every opportunity to enrich our daughter's life and you may argue that it's easy to do with an only child, but it is no easier with one than it is with more than one. It takes effort, and you will never convince me otherwise.
The other thing I've taken away from this is what it could have been like if I'd had that kind of support. My mum did her best, but with the most limited resources and there are no means of winding back the clock to find out 'what if' - and to be honest, the life I have now is far richer and more satisfying than I could ever have imagined, and a lot of that is down to her and the way she worked her ass off to support my sister and I as kids, before she met the right guy who also saw parenting as a commitment rather than just the contribution of biological matter.
My wife was luckier, and thanks to her parents we've been lucky enough to be able to put our daughter through private school, and again - without a doubt - that has had a huge bearing on how well supported she has been throughout her school time. I will never forget my in-laws for providing their grand-daughter that opportunity, and I will always be immensely grateful for what they've done.
So now begins the weird part of life described as "Empty Nest Syndrome" where my wife and I have to learn to live with each other and do things together again. We have little over a month, and I'm wondering what it's going to be like when the house is quiet, and we haven't got the shrill wail of my daughter experiencing some sort of teenage trauma (usually as a result of inheriting my terrible anxiety) to cope with. We will live, but we will miss her (I'm tearing up writing this).
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