The Let Them Theory

I don't know what it is about proms, but boy are they stressful. I went through four of them with our two daughters, so I figured our son Oakley's would be a breeze. I was wrong.

Our daughters had obsessed about every detail for months: dresses, dates, promposals, hairstyles, spray tans, makeup, corsages, bus rentals, post-prom parties. It was never-ending, and I was so glad when their proms were finally over.

Our son, on the other hand, wasn't sure he and his friends were even going to go. Despite my prodding, he communicated zero details or plans with us. (I know everyone with a son, a brother, or a boyfriend is nodding along with me right now.)

And then, of course, the week of the prom, Oakley decided he wanted to go. Everything was a last-minute scramble-the tuxedo, the specific sneakers he wanted to wear, the logistics. Even finding his date, something our daughters agonized over for months, was left for 48 hours before the big event.

When prom finally arrived, miraculously, we had the tux, the tennis shoes, the date, and the location of the pre-prom photos figured out. Somehow we had also been talked into hosting the post-prom party. Whew!

Right before we were racing out the door, my husband, Chris, fixed Oak's bowtie one last time. Our daughter Kendall, who was home from college, looked at her brother and said, "You look SO good, Oakley."

I stood there and took in the moment. What a handsome young man he had grown into. I couldn't believe how fast 18 years had flown by. I also couldn't believe that Kendall was almost done with college, and our daughter Sawyer had already graduated and was now working at a large technology firm in Boston.

As I stood there in the kitchen, I allowed this fact to wash over me: Time was passing, and I wished it would slow down. That's the cruel fact about time. It's going to keep passing, whether you slow down or not. The time that you have with the people that you love is like a melting ice cube.

One minute, it's there... The next, it's gone.

And here's the sad truth: You and I, we can't stop the ice cube from melting. The only thing we can do is make the most of the time that we have with the people that we love while we have it. In moments like this, when I really stop and pause, I always feel a little sad.

I don't know about you, but I feel like I am racing through life and not allowing myself to truly enjoy it. And I get so worked up about things that don't matter that I ruin the brief moments I have with those I love.

Did I really have to get so stressed out about the last-minute scramble and take it out on Oakley? No.

I'm sure you can relate, even if you don't have a child going to the prom. Maybe you've let comments from your family ruin an entire holiday together, or been so consumed with work or school that you cancel yet another plan with your friends. You can waste years of your life being distracted by meaningless things or late nights at work. It's easy to get yourself so stressed out about life that you forget the entire point is to live it.

As I stood there in the kitchen watching Chris fix Oakley's bowtie, I just tried to take it all in. I took a deep breath, walked up to Oak, and gave him a hug. I looked at him and said, "You look so handsome."

"Thanks, Mom." And then he saw what time it was and said, "Dude, we gotta go!"

And just like that, the moment was gone, and time was moving again. Life is funny like that. One minute you are tearing up about the passing of time and how old the kids have gotten, the next minute you're racing around trying to find your keys and getting annoyed that someone left their dishes in the sink, AGAIN.

On the way out the door, I opened the fridge and grabbed the beautiful corsage I had made from the local flower shop for Oakley's date. He took one look at it and said, "Mom, she doesn't want a cor-sage. DON'T bring that."

I stared at him. "But it's so beautiful," I said. "Are you sure?"

"I already told you, she said she doesn't want one."

"Well, how about I just bring it with us, and if she wants to wear it she can... and if she doesn't, she doesn't have to?"

He snapped at me, "Mom, please. I don't want you to bring it." I rolled my eyes at our daughter Kendall, looking for some backup. She shook her head at me and said, "Mom, drop it. He's nervous. He doesn't really know the girl he asked. Don't push it."

I'll admit that I was annoyed and maybe even a little hurt. I had spent time scrolling online researching flower trends for prom, and I had ordered his date something really killer AND taken the time to drive down, get it, and pay for it. Here I was trying to do something nice for him, and instead of being grateful, he's barking at me. Plus, it was his first prom-what did he know?

So I stuck the corsage in my purse, and we headed out the door to the place where everyone was taking pre-prom photos. Once we got there, Oakley introduced us to his date, who pulled out a boutonniere for his lapel and asked Chris if he could help her pin it in place. I, of course, couldn't help myself.

I reached into my purse, pulled out that corsage like it was a winning lottery ticket, and said to her: "Oakley said you didn't want something, but I had this made up for you just in case."

Oakley shot me a look, and I immediately wished I had kept my mouth shut. He turned to his date apologetically. "You don't have to wear it."

She looked back and said, "It's okay... I'll wear it." And that's when I noticed she had made her own corsage, which she was already wearing on one of her wrists. Kendall rolled her eyes. Chris shifted. If I could have evaporated in that moment, I would have.

Oakley grabbed the plastic container from me and slid the corsage on the free wrist she had graciously extended. And then Chris pinned the boutonniere on Oakley's tux. We took a couple of photos, and then, out of nowhere, it started to rain. And by rain, I mean... downpour. Rain hadn't been in the forecast, so not one of the 20 kids dressed in black tie, or their parents, had a rain jacket OR an umbrella.

These kids are going to get SOAKED, I thought. But it didn't seem to faze the kids at all. They just kept talking in a group, and that's when I overheard them say, "So, what do you guys want to do for dinner?"

I leaned toward Oakley and whispered, "Oak, you guys don't have a reservation for dinner before the prom?"

"Nope."

I looked at my husband and said, "They don't have a reservation for dinner?!"

He shook his head. "I guess not."

This didn't seem to bother my husband or my son. Boy, did it bother me. How the hell do 20 kids have no reservation or plans to eat before the prom? Our daughters had this handled months in advance.

Oak and his friends kept discussing their options as a group. I looked at them and said, "So what are you guys going to do for dinner?"

Oakley turned toward me and said, in that way that only a teenage boy can, "I think we're going to head out and go to Amigos."

Now, the Amigos Taqueria is this great little taco place in the center of town. . . but it's got maybe four tables. The entire place is the size of a shed. All the moms froze, and even the dads were now questioning this plan. Twenty kids in black tie were planning to head out into this rainstorm with no umbrellas or rain jackets to a fast-food joint that maybe ten of them can squeeze inside of. .. before prom?! I couldn't help myself.

You know that feeling when your body is two steps ahead of you, and you just can't stop yourself from saying something or doing something irrational? In my defense, I wasn't the only parent who intervened. Dozens of parents were now swarming their kids trying to take control of the situation. I broke out my phone and started searching for restaurants that might have a sit-down reservation available for twenty.

Nothing... There was nothing. I could feel Kendall watching me. She just stood there as I yelled out to the other parents, "I can't find a reservation anywhere. I'll look for a pizza place that delivers here."

And that's when she reached out and grabbed my arm, pulled me toward her, and looked me in the eyes.

"Mom, if Oakley and his friends want to go to a taco bar for pre-prom, LET THEM."

"But it's too small for all of them to fit in; they're going to get soaked," I said.

"Mom, LET THEM get soaked."

"But his new sneakers are going to get ruined."

"LET THEM get ruined."

"Kendall, they're brand new!"

"MOM! You're being annoying. LET THEM show up to prom in wet tuxedos and dresses. LET THEM go eat where they want. It's their prom. Not yours. Just drop it."

LET. THEM

The effect was immediate. Something inside of me softened. I could feel the tension disappearing, my mind stopped racing, and the stress of trying to control what was happening evaporated. Why did I need to get involved? Why did I have to manage this situation? Why not worry about what I was going to do for dinner tonight, rather than what they were? Why was I stressing about them at all?

Let. Them. It's their prom, not yours. Stop controlling it or judging it, or managing it, and LET THEM. So that's what I did. As the other parents kept trying to micromanage their kids, I walked up to Oakley and smiled. "What now?" he said. "Here's forty dollars for Amigos," I told him. "Have an awesome prom."

He smiled wide, gave me a huge hug, and said, "Thanks, Mom. We will."

Then I watched as Oak and his date stepped out the door, into the pouring rain. I watched them run through the storm and splash mud up onto her gown and ruin his new sneakers. And I didn't care. In fact, it was kind of cute.

Little did I know, that one moment would fundamentally change my entire approach to life.