There are milestones to motherhood: The first word, the first wobbly step, the first day of kindergarten, first day of High School, the first time your kid goes overseas alone and, with the wonders of modern technology... the first time you see your child drunk and singing karaoke?

Some of you may have read about Dylan's latest encounter with bureaucracy and know it was all to do with him travelling to South Korea as part of his University studies. For those who have, the passport actually arrived only four days before he was due to fly so the battle had continued almost to the very end.

It's been almost a week since I last laid eyes on him. They - group of ten students with Dylan the youngest - flew out of Tullamarine airport last Sunday at 3.30pm. By 10.50am the following day I was assuming they made it there safe and were too busy with meet and greet and settling in their new accommodation to contact home.

Or. My kid was being held at the other airport after a flight during which he and his accomplices were drunk and disorderly. Or. He was so hung over and sleep deprived he entered his apartment and promptly crashed on the bed. Or. He had been deported and was on his way home due to the drunk and disorderly continuing after he arrived in Seoul? I did know the flight made it, since there had been no news of missing aircraft?

Why am I adding all these normally unlikely suppositions?

It started the day before. He'd bought himself a 'selfie stick' so he could "blend in with the other tourists mum." Then I was told the travel to airport plans had changed again and I was now driving him there, picking up two of his mates along the way.

As a single mother of an 18yo who has just been given legal permission to drink, drive and indulge in a lot of other adult behaviours, when it came time to packing I... sought the advice of an adult male friend. Some things are damn uncomfortable for a mum? Conversation went like this:

"I need to tell him to pack some condoms. What if he gets drunk one night and... damn it mothers shouldn't have to talk about stuff like this!"

"You have to. Better safe than sorry?"

I accepted the advice. Of course said condoms were forgotten during our shopping expedition, as they were also forgotten during our last venture to the supermarket on the way to pick up his mates... to get a new toothbrush and a tube of toothpaste. This because my sister-in-law had said the night before his departure, "Don't forget your toiletries." And the above are the extent of his toiletries?

There we were in the car, the two of us.

"Dylan, you forgot you know what."

"What? I packed everything!"

"You forgot to buy something!"

"No I didn't?"

"The things... you know?"

"Huh?"

"Damn it... protection?"

"I'm not gonna die!"

"Dylan! Promise me you'll do that at the airport!"

"I promise! Mum this is gross, I shouldn't be hearing this?"

"No, say the words!"

"Okay. I promise to buy... protection!"

"Uh uh; I know you. You'll buy an umbrella. Or a raincoat."

"Okay, okay- hey they're protection too?"

"Say it dammit!"

"I promise to buy condoms. You happy now?" He clearly wasn't happy.

There was payback for this... Waiting at Glenferrie Station - which incidentally runs right through his Uni - for his two co-travellers he got a call from one of them: "I'm here, where are you parked?" This on speaker:

"Mum's car is the piss-coloured four wheel drive with the broken arse. Can't miss it."

Yeah.

So arrived the guy who the night before had sent Dylan a picture of his suitcase, asking if it would fit in the trunk of my car... Adding a banana resting against it to give an idea of its size? Something Dylan would do and yeah, it raised the possibility he'd have accomplices on this trip?

The other, arriving a couple of minutes later was thirty and... smooth? "Now I know where Dylan gets his good looks from." This was his greeting as he slid in the back seat.  I only got to bask for a minute in this rare instance of flattery... because Dylan being Dylan set the GPS for the airport.

"I know where I'm going! It's freeway all the way."

"I don't trust you."

Apparently neither did the guys in the back, since I had 3 GPS voices giving me directions?

"Cut it out the three of you! I said I know where I'm going!"

"Hey mine says arriving in 31 minutes?"

"I got 28. Which way you going?"

"I got something different." This from Dylan. He insisted we go via his as the two in the back still argued over the discrepancy in theirs. What he'd forgotten was the toll road filter we usually leave on? I listened as the voice led me away from where I knew the freeway lay.

"You sure this is right?"

 "Yes? I am following on the map?"

Twenty minutes later we joined said freeway, after meandering through several never-before visited suburbs.

"You had the toll road thingy on didn't you?"

"I did. Problem?"

"Never mind, I got it from here."

"Nope. There are other freeways veering off."

"Dylan I can read signs!"

"Still don't trust you."

Meanwhile conversation in the back had turned to vaping.

"Mum, want me to bring you some back? What flavour?"

30yo joined in. "You can get all sorts of flavours. I quit smoking this way."

"Something organic?" I suggested. Silence.

"Yes but what flavour mum?" This while he turned and gave them both his version of "I told you my mum was weird!" look.

"Chocolate?"

Silence.

"Okay! Anything... just not minty!"

I won't continue with the rest of the conversation, only because it will require several chapters. Dylan was in that mood? The one which has me gazing up at shopping centre cameras and imagining a group of security guards gathered around laughing hysterically?

We reached the airport at 10.00am... Yeah, five and a half hours before departure because "I don't want anything to go wrong mum and something always does with you!" had been told to me over and over as I'd argued the point of this much earlier than necessary arrival.

I drove up the Departures ramp and found a spot outside; looked at the sign and the group of security guards staring with unamused faces my way. I had a minute! One minute! Used to be a fifteen minute zone and I had entertained thoughts of walking with him inside, saying a leisurely and tearful goodbye and... maybe grabbing an espresso for the trip home?

"Suitcases, quick! Loving you and leaving you!" I yelled as they scrambled with backpacks. I raced around, opened the trunk and the 'banana for comparison suitcase' slid out and landed on my foot. No time to think about that.

Quick hug. "Love you stay safe and... buy condoms!" The last whispered in his ear as he pulled away giving me a somewhat disgusted look?

"Don't worry, we'll look after him," chorused the other two. If that was meant to be reassuring, it failed?

I raced to the driver's side and got in. Two of the guards started making moves my way. Dylan began to walk then turned back. I wound the window down, eyes on the two menacing faces.

"I expect you holding a card with my name on it at Arrivals. In case you don't recognise me, right?"

The trip home was... uneventful. Freeway the entire way and a half hour trip during which I contemplated for the first time (to the tunes from Gold 101.5 - something not usually tolerated in my car) the fact Dylan - my child - was gone. Gone!

As a mum you worry. Not me. Not with this kid - at least not the worries normal mothers have? I worried more about the nation of South Korea and its unsuspecting populace! Having now met in total four of the mates accompanying him I understood why they were mates. Can you imagine at least four Dylans on the loose? Yeah.

Back at home I had intended on a short nap. Not to be. Suddenly a Facebook notification pinged: "Dylan is now live."

I have no words. As a mother you become accustomed to your child's sometime profanity and quirky nature. And there he was, IPhone at the end of the extended selfie stick... live streaming from the airport. I will not repeat the language out of respect for you all. Nor will I repeat the exact wording of the chatter about their flight going missing, getting hit by a cruise missile or ending up in some foreign nation. "We're all gonna die," has been a standard pronouncement every time the three of us hop on a plane?

I won't also repeat the shenanigans after they all decided buying a beer at 11.00am was a sound idea... or the colourful verbal exchanges over an impromptu game of "I spy." The 'unboxing' of a range of McDonald's products... Something no mother should witness. Thankfully his laptop died after an hour. Not before I heard the words "Is that so and so with his mum?" though. His mum? A mum was allowed to be there and not just dump them outside and race off in fear of getting towed? Oh how I envied that mum's balls!

It still left them three and a half hours before departure. I won't lie. I had my mobile phone close in case I got the dreaded call: "Mum, come pick me up, they won't let us board the plane."

Six long days later... Okay, I now know my kid can survive overseas. I know he will eat baby crab "because it has no bones" and because it tastes "more like chicken than chicken" if in survival mode without food for 10 hours. I also know he will never take part in an organised 'tour' again because "we can't shake our minders mum!"

There are other things I have discovered through the daily live streams:

·       A mother needs very thick skinwhen a child is overseas

·       Never comment on a Facebook post or you will get "No shit"

·       Never offer to express post food to starving child or you will get "Send gallows"

·       Ignore ALL inappropriate language/actions else you'll be tagged next live stream and hear/see a child you wish you could disown

·       Do not say "Don't you dare vape" because child will vape

·       Do not say "Don't you dare (insert anything)" because child will, in glorious colour and sound

·       Never say "Don't drink too much" because you will be the first tagged in a live stream of child gloriously drunk and singing karaoke

·       Do not ask child if he's met any girls there. Ever. He will meet some. And gloat.

·       Sneak sturdy walking shoes in suitcase... else you'll be blamed for not doing so

·       Make that damn sign for Arrivals. You may well NOT recognise the child now sporting bracelets and sunglasses and Nike footwear holding a Coke bottle?

I don't think South Korea will forget Dylan in a hurry, and this could well be the last 'program' between sister universities. Calling the Samsung Innovation Centre "a meme" was not welcome, despite the guide managing a straight face when presented with this loud proclamation. Getting one of the minders so drunk he had to be carried out at the end of the night and after a wonderful live rendition of a ballad... yeah.   

 I miss him. I miss the me I am with him. A taste of what's ahead, in greater frequency.

P.S. His very last night in Korea. I received the following messages:

"I gotwasted and threw up all over my room. I left itin such a bad state. I've beenup since 5 cleaning."

"Ohhhh!" This from me. You can say I had been expecting it?

"My room isfucked It's clean now but still smelly. I threw upon the doors, floors, walls, sink, toilet, shower, desks. The whole roombasically. I don'teven remember throwing up. I woke upto this as a surprise."

"Lesson learned right?"

"Yeah..."