Barbara Wood's On the Home Front: One kid down, two more to go Barbara Wood's On the Home Front: One kid down, two more to go (October 20, 2004)

Six weeks ago, a day I had thought would never come, came. My daughter Caitlin moved out, off to college in San Diego.

Suddenly I had only two children whose schedules I needed to juggle, whose dietary quirks I needed to keep in mind, whose friends I might find in my kitchen. At back-to-school night we could visit all the teachers, and one fewer person would be wearing my husband's socks.

Because Caitlin can be outspoken, demanding and something of a pain, and was mean to the dog, I had been sort of looking forward to her empty bedroom. We could stop stocking organic peanut butter, low-carb yogurt, and all tofu products. My son could take a shower without danger of a cascade of hair products falling on him, and no one would stockpile wet towels on the living room floor.

Which doesn't explain why, on the drive to San Diego, in a car we had borrowed to hold all of Caitlin's belongings, I confronted a young couple with a baby in a fast food restaurant. "You'd better enjoy that baby," I said to them, close to bursting into tears. "Because next thing you know, they go off to college!"

They gathered up the baby and left soon after.

But now that Caitlin is gone, except for the dog being happier, I miss her more than I had imagined.

I've even decided I must have brought her up "right" because it seems that she was actually a help to me. She did her own laundry, cooked most of her own food, and even cleaned the bathroom she shared with her brother. She took her younger sister clothes shopping, dressed her for school dances, and ran errands for me when I was busy.

Now, I just have that empty room.

Sometimes I suspect I am the only one who does miss Caitlin. One night, after watching a sad movie soon after learning that my cousin has breast cancer, I started crying. I told my younger daughter that I was missing Caitlin.

"Mom," the younger one said dismissively, "there's nothing miss-able about Caitlin!"

But I did miss her. I missed having someone else around to talk to as an adult, who would also snuggle up with me and share my sadness. I think Caitlin is doing well at school, although it is kind of hard to tell from our sporadic conversations. She never calls, but sometimes she sends e-mails.

When I question her, she says she gets along with her roommate, is finding food she will eat, likes most of her classes and hasn't yet visited Tijuana. She hates her women's studies class, thinks the cafeteria food is bad, and hasn't found a job yet.

She asks me for all the family gossip -- has her brother gotten his drivers' permit yet, how her sister's soccer games have gone, how all the relatives are, what the chickens have been up to. The other day she even admitted she sometimes misses us.

And in a month, we'll see her again, when she comes home for Thanksgiving.

I can't wait.

Barbara Wood lives in Woodside in an old house with two red-headed teenagers, a work-at-home husband, one full-time and one half-time dog, nine chickens and a fish. Her column runs the third week of the month.

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