When Brooke Shields recently shared on TODAY with Jenna & Friends that she’s “getting to know” her daughters Rowan, 21, and Grier, 18, as young adults, I couldn’t help but smile in recognition as a mom of two—my middle schooler and my college freshman.

“I was like, ‘For your whole life, I’ve told you what to do, what to eat, when to eat, when not to eat, clothing, who’re your friends,'” Shields explained to her daughter. “‘Now I’m meeting you, so you have got to give me a bit of a grace period so that I can get to know you as this young adult.'”

Those words perfectly captured what I’ve been experiencing in my own home.

That final summer: Houseguest or child?

That last summer before my son left for college, our relationship existed in this strange limbo. Some days, he felt like a houseguest who had overstayed his welcome—leaving dishes in the sink, staying out super late and rocking my sleep schedule in new and different ways, asserting his independence in ways that challenged our family rhythm.

Other days, watching the calendar count down to move-in day had me making mental checklists of all the life skills I still needed to teach him. Eighteen years suddenly seemed like nowhere near enough time. Did he know how to do laundry without turning everything pink? Could he handle a difficult roommate situation? Would he remember to call home? (Or at least respond to my texts?)

The reintroduction period

What Shields so brilliantly articulated was this need for a “reintroduction period” with our adult children. When she explained to her daughter Grier, “Don’t get mad at me. Let’s just reintroduce ourselves to each other because I’m getting to know you,” I found myself nodding along.

Like Shields, I’ve felt that strange disconnection when my son comes home talking about inside jokes I don’t understand and friends whose personalities I can’t quite grasp from brief descriptions. As she put it, “I don’t know this sense of humor that you now have, these inside jokes that I have nothing to do with.”

It’s an adjustment, realizing there are now parts of their lives where you’re not a central character. But it’s also the beginning of something pretty wonderful.

Related: Katie Holmes opens up in a relatable interview about her empty nest syndrome

Watching them bloom in new soil

Each time my freshman son has come home from college this year, I marvel at the person he’s becoming. Having grown up in Vermont, it’s clear that spending the year in a big city among new faces who come from all over the world has expanded his thinking in ways I couldn’t have imagined.

His insights make me think. His sharp and witty commentary delight me not just because he’s my kid but because he’s genuinely clever and funny. The references have changed, the vocabulary has expanded, and sometimes I find myself wanting to take notes just to keep up.

When Shields shared that her daughter texted “I love my friends” during spring break, I recognized that mix of joy and bittersweetness. As Jenna Bush Hager noted, it’s a “good feeling” to see your kids befriend others who “see them” and “lift them up.” It’s validation that they can thrive in environments you didn’t create for them.

Related: Courteney Cox’s daughter is in college, says being an empty nester is ‘an adjustment’

The evolution of parenting

What I’m learning—and what Shields seems to be discovering too—is that parenting doesn’t end when they leave home. It evolves. The relationship transforms.

We spend 18 years giving our children roots: teaching them values, helping them develop character, showing them how to navigate the world. Then we spend the rest of our lives watching them grow wings and fly in directions we couldn’t have predicted.

As Shields acknowledged, this transition isn’t “seamless.” There are awkward moments, miscommunications, and times when you feel “gutted” by how complete their separate lives have become. But then comes the beautiful realization: “Oh, you’re going to be OK.”

Related: Scientists uncover a surprising way parenting rewires your brain—and it may help slow aging

The greatest gift

To know your kid as an adult is such a gift—perhaps the greatest reward of parenting. It’s seeing the fruits of your labor, the result of all those sleepless nights, endless drives to activities, homework struggles, and heart-to-heart talks.

When I look at my college freshman now, I don’t just see my child. I see a thoughtful young adult whose perspective enriches my own life. I see evidence that the world is in good hands with his generation.

And my middle schooler? I’m already catching glimpses of the adult she’ll become, storing up these last years at home like treasures.

Shields’ words remind us all that this transition, while challenging, opens the door to a new kind of relationship with our children—one based not on authority but on mutual respect and genuine curiosity about who they’re becoming.

And that’s worth every moment of the bittersweet journey it takes to get there.