Dear families visiting their college kids on Halloween weekend,

My first and only question to you is why? I understand that you miss your kids and you want to see them and it’s Parent’s Weekend -- but it’s Halloween weekend, too. A normal weekend in college is crazy. Add 40,000 half-naked, belligerent college kids running around looking for the cheapest place to get the most shots and you’ll never look at your perfect son or daughter the same way ever again.

Friday.

You just got into town and you are so excited to see your son/daughter. You’re going to see their apartment/dorm and meet their roommates and all their friends. You may even take everyone out for lunch at a restaurant you know they only recommended because you and your wallet are in town.

After lunch and the meet and greet, you go back to their apartment/dorm and mom mode immediately turns on. Once the room is spotless, mom mode turns down enough notches to figure out the night’s game plan. Frat hopping? Bars? Fancy restaurant with exotic drinks? You leave your son/daughter to get dressed and for you to go check into your hotel and settle down for a little while.

Once it’s dinner time, you’re anxious to have your kid back in arms reach where you can ask all the questions you want about their life, what’s new, and who’s dating who. They text you, they’re ready. You go pick them up. You go to the fancy restaurant with exotic drinks. Everyone has a couple drinks and fills their stomachs with some pretty fantastic food. The night is winding up and you offer a nice movie to watch as a family -- like old times. But your son/daughter has something else in mind. They want to show you what it’s like being a millennial in college and, if we gon' do it ,we gon' do it big.

You give in to your son/daughter and to the bars you go. You see a long line of girls wearing the same crop tops and shorts that could pass off as underwear. You shake it off and would look the other way if you could, but the view the other way is just as disturbing. You take a deep breath and decide it’ll be fine because they aren’t your kids. Your kid leans in close and yells something in your ear that sounded like bathroom so you wait by the bar, or the table you were standing next to, for him/her to get back. Five minutes go by; ten; fifteen; half an hour. You go searching and wish you hadn’t when you find what they call a bathroom. It’s dirty. It smells like it hasn’t been cleaned since the bar opened. Sweaty kids are laughing and falling all over the place.

You make the executive decision that it’s time to go home so you text your kid, go outside the bar, and wait. When they finally come out, you convince them it’s time to go home and that tomorrow you can come back, but jet lag is really hitting you. They’re reluctant at first, but once you offer them pizza (or pokey sticks) they’re like putty in your hands. Everyone gets home safely, you shower away the regrets of the college bar, and go to bed excited for breakfast with your family.

Saturday.

The birds are chirping and all is well in the world of a parent on parent’s weekend, Halloween edition. Except that it’s Halloween weekend and it’s Saturday. You call your son/daughter and expect a lovely cheerful voice, but they’re still half asleep (and possibly still drunk) when they answer the phone, and grumpy doesn’t even begin to describe their tone because you had the nerve to call before noon.

Breakfast turns to brunch turns to lunch, turns to something at 3:30 p.m. at Chick-fil-A because nobody could decide what they wanted. By the time it’s over, pre-banding has begun and pre-games are well underway. Your son/daughter will bring you to get pre-banded at the same nasty bar you were suffocating in the night before, and try to decide if they want to bring you to an actual pre-game or a little something in their apartment/dorm.

They decide on taking the whole family to a fraternity house because that’s where all the fun happens. You don’t necessarily know how you feel about it, at first, but if this is what you have to go through to spend some time with your son/daughter, then you’re willing to put on your happy face and give a night out another try. When you get to the pre-game, it seems dead on the outside -- nobody is around, there’s no music or food -- but once you walk through the front doors it’s like a scene from a movie. There are burgers and hot dogs, more drinks and drink options than there are people, the music is blaring what one drunk male called “trap music,” and the girls are wearing the same crop tops and shorts that could pass off as underwear.

Everyone seems to be enjoying themselves and just when it starts to get fun, shouting emerges over the music. At first you can’t figure out what they’re saying, but once the music turns off it becomes clear that the busses are here and it is time to go. Everyone is rushing the doors in hopes of getting a seat on the bus that leads to more alcohol and girls with less clothing on. The bus comes to a nauseating stop and the bar from last night honestly doesn’t look the same. There are more people and less clothing and lots of ears -- bunny ears, cat ears, it’s Halloween weekend; you can’t judge -- and the bathroom is even more disgusting than the night before.

You bite your tongue and hold back your motherly urges because it is your last night with your son/daughter until Thanksgiving. Your feet start to hurt around midnight and it is way past your bedtime but your kid is begging you to stay because they’re having so much and they did not put that much effort into their costume for it to not make it all night. Your son/daughter convince everyone to stay a little while longer so you try and find a seat somewhere and get comfy to people watch. After another hour or so, you are beyond ready to call it a night, but nobody is letting that happen because it’s Halloween Weekend and leaving is not an option. Persuading them with pizza isn’t even working. You can try to leave by yourself, but that puts you at risk of coming into physical contact with one of those sweaty, dirty, drunk-nasty college kid bodies in their Halloween “costumes.” Let’s face it – glitter, tequila, and regret are the last things you want to come into contact with tonight.

When it’s finally time to go, you are so relieved you almost cry, but you have to hold it together for your son/daughter because you’re a cool mom/dad and you can handle it. You say your goodnights and shower maybe four or five times before you finally go to bed. But, hey, tomorrow is Sunday and your last day which means another chance at breakfast with your perfect son/daughter.

Sunday.

You wake up with sore feet and a very empty stomach. You call your son/daughter and get the same grumpy voice as the morning before. But you want a nice family breakfast before you leave, damn it, and that’s what you’re gonna get. You pick up your kid and go on your merry way to have some nice pancakes and biscuits and fruit. Once breakfast actually starts everything goes pretty well. Nobody is grumpy, anymore. Coffee does it’s magic. And just like that, your weekend is over. Back to boring adult life. Nobody else will be yelling about busses or shots. You don’t have to see ovaries, intense cleavage, or butt cheeks anymore. Nobody will spill alcohol all over you. You promise yourself that next year will be different. You’ll either plan to do something other than going out or you’ll have your kid come home that weekend so you can be one big, happy family in the comfort of your living room. But for now, you only care about getting home.

I would like to formerly apologize to all of the families that will be attending parent’s weekend, Halloween edition. College isn’t how it used to be and the millennials are not afraid to show that to anyone who wants to experience it. Parent’s weekend is a great idea on paper. Parent’s Weekend on Halloween? I’m not sure how that idea was accepted. You’re going to see an insane amount of booze, skin, and regret. Don’t say you weren’t warned.

Sincerely,

Your perfect son/daughter.