The Ups and Downs of the Empty Nest

This past weekend, the girls were home early. Bags were dropped, clothes needed cleaning, and the dishwasher was full.

In the beginning, when this whole empty nest thing started, I was more than happy to resume my role as doting mother. I made them nutritious dinners. I made sure their sheets were freshly laundered each weekend they were home. After all, the whole reason they came home so often was to balance their world of tests and deadlines, stress and decision making, with a place they felt nurtured and refreshed. And I was more than happy to oblige.

But, when the house was silent once again, I began to refocus my energy.

At first, David and I were warriors. We tackled project after project in record time. I was back to my ruthless cleaning rituals. And I started to create a new schedule—one that worked for both my business and my new personal life.

Then I started to slow down and look around. We don’t get a lot of alone time when the girls are home. And there is always something that needs our attention and there always will be. Free weekends became dedicated to catching up on forgotten books, working on a left-over project, or lolling on the sofa watching a movie together.

Once the girls were home again, it was all about them.

The back and forth was a bit unnerving at first. I got rattled when they weren’t home and again when they were. It would take me a good day on either end to switch gears.

Now I’m learning to balance the in between. When they are home, I don’t worry about a tidy house or cooking each night. When they head back to school, I appreciated the time I had with them and simply get back to work. I rediscovered alone time. Time to be present with myself that I thought I would never embrace again as I had done years ago. I reconnected with an old friend and tackled an important project I longed to accomplish.

This is a huge improvement from a few years ago. If you remember, I was coming unhinged at the thought of them leaving. The contradictory emotions, from sorrow to relief, loss to exhilaration, has touched us all in one way or another. But we keep on moving forward. As everyone does.

The relationships I have with my children as adults have been more rewarding than I could have imagined. Getting to know them as they learn and grow and change, is an amazing experience. I take joy in knowing that the give and take and ups and downs are an inevitable not-so-scary-after-all part of the process.

There’s still plenty of parenting to do—it’s a never-ending job—but I’m up for the challenge. And for that, I am eternally grateful.

P.S. You may also like I'm Not Ready, Mean Girls, and It's Been Quite a Week.

Week Three of the Empty Nest

We dropped the girls off on Labor Day. Two weeks yesterday. This is week three.

It was my idea not to pick up or see the girls until three weeks in. I felt they needed to get settled, get used to their familiar, yet unfamiliar surroundings, once again. David and I needed to take a deep breath and reclaim the house—and our sanity.

As anyone who has packed up children for college can tell you, it’s a never-ending ordeal. And the lists! No matter how organized you are, you’re bound to miss something on the list.

This year, Amanda moved into a single room in a suite of ten rooms. It has plenty of space, good light, and the building is near all of her academic buildings. But the extra-long twin sheets we had to buy for her Freshman dorm wasn’t going to work on her new double bed. We split up—Amanda and I kept unpacking, while David and Kate went off in search of decent sheets 30 minutes away.

And then there’s the emotional unpacking. What will this school year be like? Will I like where I live? Never mind the ordeal of leaving behind all of the things that bring you comfort, grounding, support. The first day of school (or anything) is the first day of school, regardless of how old you are. There’s a mixture of fear and excitement that sends your stomach into somersaults and addles the brain. For the parents, too.

The group texts began the moment one was dropped off and the other was on her way. Last minute things we weren’t able to get were added to a list or became the responsibility of the one left behind.

Thankfully, the girls have found their footing.

Kate is understandably exhausted—teaching full-time with a full load of classes each week—but she loves the school she’s been placed at, the children, and the teachers. She gets to walk through parts of the city that were once only explored for fun. We envy those walks every time she Snapchats a picture of another mouth-watering pastry, imagining the delicious smells that waft through the neighborhood.

To say Amanda loves her room is a vast understatement. The deep blue accent wall matches her bedding perfectly. And her room is always clean, clean, clean. Something she couldn’t quite pull off last year with her messy roommate underfoot. She hit a snag when she had to add/drop a class, but it’s all good. Her suite has a kitchen, so she’s cooking for herself for the first time.

For us…well, the house is very clean. We purged and organized our basement, I’ve been deep-cleaning closets and cabinets, and we’ve managed to tackle a few outdoor projects. The list of things to do will always remain a list, but you get the idea.

We’re managing.

It’s hard to let go each year. No matter how much practice I have under my belt, each year is different. Each year brings new challenges. And each year, as they both get older, brings reality closer to the surface.

But, no matter how much grumbling I do (and I do a lot) before, during, and after, I have to remember to take a deep breath, stop my whining, count my lucky stars, and cherish this time.

P.S. You may also like Romance is Alive and Well and It's Been Quite a Week.

I'm Not Ready

The girls are both at work right now. Their last work week of the summer. Next week, they’re all mine, albeit for just one more. We plan to get our hair done, troll bookstores, watch silly movies, discuss books, and the inevitable fact that school is, literally, just around the corner.

We’re not ready.

I’ll be spending Labor Day hauling boxes and bags; hanging pictures and wiring lamps; picking up boxes of books and stocking refrigerators; driving mile after mile after mile to drop my girls off at their respective schools, and walking out of their buildings, missing them before I’ve left the parking lot.

Kate is a senior this year. We already know the day she will graduate. Two days after she moves in, she’ll receive her tassel at convocation. I had just gotten used to her being a college student, yet here we are, at another precipice, another milestone. The question of when she’ll be attending graduate school is on all of our minds. She’ll be teaching full-time while simultaneously juggling a full-load of classes fall semester.

Amanda is moving in to a single room amongst both male and female roommates. David is not amused. She will continue her research on the variations in parasite abundance between urban and natural populations of anoles. I don’t pretend to understand; I just know she’s doing some pretty cool stuff under the tutelage of one of the university's leading researchers. She’ll have her car on campus this year. She’s decided to pursue a pre-med track and double her workload.

We’re not ready.

As I marvel at all they have accomplished so far, I am very aware of what lies ahead. I have already lived my version of their lives. It’s not easy, but the rewards are well worth the effort. I know this. They know this. But it doesn’t make it any less challenging all the way around.

I dreaded them leaving high school, and now, I’m dreading what comes next. Not because I don’t want them to succeed and move forward with their lives—I want all of that for them and more—it’s just that I have finally found my way. I’ve learned how to live this new existence somewhat fractured by changes that are unavoidably inevitable.

We’ve already given Kate her graduation present. We took a trip last January knowing it might have been one of the last opportunities we’d be able to, as a family. We’re grasping at fragments of time, too precious to be ignored.

I know the reality is not nearly as frightening as the anticipation, of not knowing. I’ve been down this road before. I will ring my hands, make endless lists, repeat myself again and again to make sure the two of them have everything they could ever need. And then they’ll be off on their own once again.

But I’m not ready.

P.S. You may also like It's Been Quite a Week and A Surprising Twist.

Life in My 40s

I survived my 20s, plowed through my 30s, and now I’m surviving mid-life. I’m in the phase of life where it seems as though I no longer matter; no one is trying to get my attention. Advertisers are targeting 20-somethings—the Millennials—to buy their products, watch their programs, change the world and do something amazing with their lives. I’m not eligible for any particular benefits or special treatment. The AARP has to wait a little longer. I don’t get discounts if I buy a movie ticket and I’m not ready for the early bird special. I’m in limbo. Not quite young, but not old, either.

In my 20s, I was blissfully ignorant. I was young, carefree. I didn’t worry about much until I started to have children. But even still, I was much calmer when I had my son than when I had my daughters. I was moody and grumbled about inconsequential things like most people at that age, but did I mention I was young and carefree? I write that sentence and smile. Only because I know that my 20s were not nearly as carefree as I make them sound. I went through a lot during that decade of my life—leaving college and starting college again, getting married, buying and selling a house, having a baby, getting divorced, battling cervical cancer, getting re-married, buying another house, suffering a miscarriage. But I handled it. I got through it and I moved on.

During my 30s, after all of my babies were born and life seemed to settle down, the worrying began in earnest. Little by little, there was simply more to worry about. I started a business that I threw myself into like an episode of Survivor, tribal counsel and all. I worked hard at being a good mom and getting a someday successful business off the ground. One minute, I was at a business conference across the country, the next minute I was attending a school recital. I was juggling like a circus clown and thriving, albeit not always as successfully as I’d like to think. Whoever said a woman can have it all should have been stoned on the spot.

Enter life in my 40s. The worry was in full tilt by this time. I woke and went to bed watching the news. I listened to talk radio in the car pool line and raged. I had one child in college and two children in middle school. My husband’s career was demanding more of his time, while I continued to juggle motherhood and my own career. I stressed about money, grades (that weren’t even mine), my health, everyone’s health, girl drama (thankfully, not my girls), college tuition, relationships, sex, drugs, new immunizations, diseases, terrorists, the safety of my family, perimenopause, and an empty nest. By the time I had hit my mid-40s, I was a mess.

However, if 40 is the new 20, I must be reliving that decade all over again, but this time with my eyes wide open. No more ignorance and no more bliss.

But… And this is a big but, I am no longer afraid. I no longer care what people think, say, or do. I don’t give a whip about consumerism, and a good book is far better than any television program. I no longer watch the news or listen to talk radio. If it’s important enough, I’ll find out what I need to know. I don’t have to feel insecure about making it in the world. I’ve already arrived. Battered, beaten, and wiser. I took control of my body and my mind. I’ve changed careers and chose personal fulfillment over money. My children are all adults, thriving and beginning their own quests, but we’re still thick as thieves. I appreciate everything I have with such enormous gratitude, I will sometimes weep at my good fortune. I have everything I have ever wanted and more.

Am I rich? Not even close. Do I worry about money? Yes, but I have resolved that things will work out as they should, as they’ve always done. The stresses have not gone away, but the way I deal with them has changed. Life is not perfect. No one’s life is perfect. But mine is sublimely imperfect in all the right places.

Life in my 40s has been challenging, but I’ve decided I like challenges after all.

P.S. You may also like I Survived the First Year of College,  It's Been Quite a Week, and Are You a Late Bloomer?.

Photo: Moyan Brenn

Romance is Alive and Well

When a relationship is new, no matter where you go or what you do feels like the most romantic date ever. I remember when my husband and I first got together. We weren't officially dating, but the flirting had begun. He wanted to buy a leather jacket and needed my opinion. As we crossed the crowded streets to walk uptown, he reached for my hand. The day continued to unfold in a similar fashion. We walked, he grabbed my hand, I let go, and back and forth it went.

My girlfriend and I decided to go out to dinner one night and somehow he invited himself along. After walking what seemed like miles, we got lost just as it was beginning to rain. Finally finding our way to the restaurant, my future husband slid into the booth beside me. As a violinist started playing, we brushed hands under the table, lingering a little longer each time.

Once we were a thing. He decided to surprise me with concert tickets to The Cure. The amphitheater was packed and we weren't under cover as the rain started to come down in sheets. We finally chucked the useless umbrella we were holding and swayed to the music as my mascara ran down my face. It was a great evening.

As the years progressed, our definition of romance went from your typical dinner and a movie to picnics in front of the television after the kids were asleep. They were still fun to us, but things changed as our relationship grew. (I think it's romantic if starts the tea kettle in the morning before I ask.)

But now that the girls have gone off to college, we've started dating again. Afternoon movies, browsing through the bookstore, sharing a coffee in a café, even running errands has taken on a date-like feel. This past weekend, he took me out for ice cream. And we're back to holding hands.

Regardless of how long you've been together, there is plenty of romance left to explore.

A Surprising Twist

As I was getting the house prepared for Thanksgiving, I was reminded of just how much time it takes to get it all done. The cooking, the cleaning, and for us, the decorating just a day later. It's a lot to do. Not to mention the pick-ups (David picked up both girls because I was cooking) and the drop-offs (we split it this time). We had a very full extended weekend.

Whenever the girls come home, I make sure I wash their sheets, vacuum their room, and try to have as many goodies on hand as possible. But that's what mothers do, we nest. Especially during the holidays. And most especially when their daughters haven't been home for over a month.

Everything got a good workout—the washing machine, the oven, the dishwasher. And then it dawned on me. David and I hadn't run the dishwasher in more than a week. The only reason the washer was used more than once was because I was washing sheets, not clothes. And I couldn't remember the last time I had to cook so much food. I can make a pot of whatever and have it last for days. We don't mind eating leftovers.

If there is any kind of bright side to this whole empty nest thing it's this: we are actually able to come home from work and do absolutely nothing if we want to.

I don't feel guilty about putting a full-course dinner on the table each night, and all of the daily cleaning I used to do has been pared down so much I often wonder if I'm neglecting my home.

I'm getting used to having the house clean all the time. I'm getting used to not having to cook every night. I'm getting used to the organized cabinets, the refrigerator not having to be fully stocked, the simplicity of our new nightly routine. The quiet.

No. I'm not getting used to the quiet. I liked the house filled with familiar voices. Especially female voices.

There may be a tiny upside to this whole empty nest thing, but I would gladly trade in my tidy, organized, semi-quiet house for the one filled with shoes and clothes strewn about, and giggly girls talking the night away.

P.S. You may also like A Magical Journey and Hiding Out.

Photo: Jake Stimpson

It's Been Quite a Week!

This is my new home away from home. Not bad, huh? Amanda has finally moved off to college and she began classes this past Wednesday. The move turned into a three-day ordeal. Between driving to and from Boston and down to Rhode Island, David and I spent 15 hours in the car from Friday to Monday! Thank goodness my car is comfortable.

This college move-in was entirely different from Kate's. During that day, we pulled up to the curb, unloaded the car, set up her room, went to assemblies, took her out to dinner, and drove home. Amanda's move-in happened in stages. On Friday we unloaded what we could knowing we had to bring the rest of it down on Sunday. Her room was about 80% set up by the time she had to say good-bye and then spent 2 days in a cabin attending a Leadership Program. On Sunday, we came back to deliver her bike and refrigerator, as well as a few other items. Then we took her home to attend an event the next day we had planned long ago. On Monday, it was finally time to drive down the coast to drop Kate back in Boston and Amanda in RI. 

People have asked me how I'm doing now that the children are gone. And the honest answer is (for now), I'm okay. I've been slowly letting go for about a month. We've been so busy that I put all of my energies in getting her settled. There have been many nights and days when the tears would fall, but I expected that and more. And I know they'll return at odd moments.

Staying busy helps, so besides work, I've been cleaning like crazy. David and I have a project list a mile long to make sure we keep ourselves from becoming too melancholy. And... we got a hot tub! A friend of a friend was getting rid of one and David knew I would really enjoy/need an extra source of relaxation. (And now I have a place to drown my sorrows as well.)

I promise next week, I'll return to sharing some fun links, but for now, I thought I'd share these for those of you who may be experiencing the same thing. 

Tips for Coping
Dads go through it too
4 Things They Never Tell You

I'm sure this won't be the last I write about this subject. But... I am going to embrace this time to make my home into a Autumnal oasis so warm and cozy that when they come back home, they won't want to leave so soon!

Cleaning is My Therapy

When things get tough, I start cleaning. There's something incredibly therapeutic about scrubbing surfaces and boxing up and getting rid of things. Since Amanda left for school, I've been tearing through the house room by room and cleaning every square inch. Cabinets, closets, drawers... nothing is being left untouched and there's plenty more to do. Trips to the recycling center are now becoming as frequent as trips to the grocery store. 

For years, I've been looking at bins and bags filled with winter clothing and outerwear that the girls have outgrown, games and sporting equipment nobody uses, and cans of paint and other household items that need the heave-ho. For once, I have the extra time to really go through the house and take my time. In the past, I've gone through many cleaning frenzies and tossed things I've regretted getting rid of. This time I don't plan to make the same mistake. And I'm really looking forward to giving things away to people who want and need some of the things I have. 

Getting rid of all excess also helps to clear my mind. I cannot work in a cluttered office, so when a project gets away from me, the first thing I have to do is clean things up before I can clear my head enough to work. When school starts for everyone else, I stock up on new notebooks and other office supplies to keep me organized too. Now I'm adding storage containers and baskets to my list.

I've also discovered a few new uses for the Magic Eraser. I'm probably the last to know this, but just in case I'm not... they're great to use on stainless and glass. Outside of painted walls, I don't think there's anything these gadgets can't clean.

Here are a few of my finds and other organizational and cleaning ideas just in case you want to join in on a little cleaning therapy yourself.

Clear plastic containers.
Refrigerator bins and tips for organizing.
What Magic Erasers can do and so much more.
Natural cleaning recipes.
While you're at it, why not organize your purse. (I'm a big fan of pouches.)

Photo: Chiot's Run

Life as We Know It

I'm sitting in my living room in the dark while everyone else is asleep. Today is the day we move Kate back to Boston. It seems like just yesterday when I was waiting in the car pool line at the middle school, watching Kate play field hockey and Amanda run cross country. I knew this year would fly by, but it still took me by surprise. 

I have four more nights before Amanda moves off to college for the first time. If I thought going through this with Kate was tough, this is going to hurt like hell. The first step towards empty nesting has begun and I don't like it one bit.

As I stated in this post, my blogging schedule was changing a bit as I got back into the swing of things. And although I was away from the keyboard for longer than expected, bear with me as I try to get through this week. We're driving into Boston in a few hours, Amanda turns 18 on Wednesday, I drive back to Boston to pick up Kate on Thursday so she can participate in Amanda's college move-in day in Rhode Island on Friday (where she'll be swept away almost immediately to participate in a leadership program), and then we'll return to Rhode Island on Sunday to finish moving Amanda in. Then we head back into Boston one more time to drop off Kate before returning home. 

It's a big week...

I will return to my regular schedule after Labor Day. I hope you have a wonderful week and a fabulous long weekend.

P.S. You may also like August 31, 2013 and I Survived the First Year of College.

Photo: Photon_de

The Chaos Before the Calm

My house is a complete wreck right now. We've been shopping for bedding, school supplies, dorm room organizers, and every other imaginable thing needed to shuttle off two girls to college next week. We're all in a bit of a daze really. Amanda's things, since this is her first year, are spread all over our kitchen table. While Kate's things have been placed in the living room. Technically, we're not moving her in since everything she needs, besides clothes and personal items, is already in her apartment. We've been running around scrambling for this and that and then literally plopping ourselves down in front of the television or a computer to distract ourselves from the fact that this is our last week of normality. 

Kate will be starting her third year of college and will begin student teaching in the spring. Amanda, new to the college scene, is moving farther away from home (a whole two states away) and just received her first math textbook as a reminder that yes, this is really happening. And I am trying to look past the mess knowing that once all of it is gone, the girls will be too. 

Years ago, if you had asked me which I preferred, calm or chaos, I would have happily answered the former. These days, I'm more than willing to live in a house that will forever remain a complete wreck if I can keep my girls home a while longer. 

I Survived the First Year of College

I have written and re-written this essay a half dozen times. Kate finished her first year of college in May. Now that she's firmly invested in her second year, I almost didn't write it. But I can still remember the day we moved her in like it was yesterday.... packing up the car the night before, the house in shambles, getting on the road at dawn, stopping at McDonalds for pancakes, her sister crying not so silently as we waited in the car, all of us crying at different times during the drive into Boston. And then in a blur of unpacking, it was over. We rode home in silence wiping away the last of our tears. 

During the first couple of months, I was in denial. Having my children sleep under the same roof makes me happy. I would cry at odd times during the day. David and I would stare at one another, speechless. We've always been a close family, choosing to do things as a group versus going off on our own. Gone were the nightly rounds of good-nights whispered between the girls' rooms, the laughter and teasing sisters revel in, the four place settings at the dinner table. Days were quiet and the nights were sometimes deafeningly silent.

I know I am not the first parent to have gone through this. I know I should be happy that I have done at least part of my job—I've prepared her to head out into the world and stand on her own. I know I should be excited that she will get to experience all of the great and wonderful things college will teach her. I know this is what's supposed to happen. But knowing it doesn't keep it from hurting.

My girls are my best friends and now I was letting one of them go. Kate and I run hot and cold. She can make me laugh on a dime, help guide me through a mini-crisis with her level-headed advice, and talk and talk and talk, which I sometimes desperately need just to get out of my own head. Amanda and I are lukewarm. We get each other and often agree on just about everything. She has a calming spirit that soothes me. We're introverted extroverts—we're quiet, and then sometimes loud and obnoxious. These girls balance my world.

I am grateful that she is only 80 miles away and not 800. We can get her home in an hour and a half and she takes advantage of it every chance she gets, especially this time of year. She loves Christmas and she misses the snow, the woods, her room, the decorations, and of course her dogs! And I guess us, too. She was just home over Thanksgiving break and it's during these times that I feel at peace once again.

Just as I was settling in to this new normal, rumors started to circulate (as they usually do) that upperclassmen wouldn't have housing for next year. One of her friends started apartment hunting and asked Kate if she was interested in sharing. The first time I heard of this my heart sank. I was just getting used to her being away—housed in a nice security-protected dorm on campus. I couldn't talk about it. I didn't even want to address it. I passed this latest challenge on to her father. He tends to be more rational than emotional, while I tend to lead with my emotions in situations like this. He played go-between for a while; I silently crunched the numbers. After viewing one disappointing apartment after another proved that we wouldn't have to deal with this until next year, a spot opened up in a beautiful (safe) building just down the street. Her friend would sign the lease December 1st. We gave Kate the okay that she could move in in January.

We've dropped her off at her dorm room for the last time. We plan to start moving her belongings into her apartment in mid-December, then finish up in January before she heads back to school again. The decorating plan is in full swing and I still need to find a desk—all in the midst of holiday shopping and Amanda's college application process.

Yes, I get to do this all over again next year times two. And I'll do my best to survive this, too.

Onward

Preparing for college, visiting college campuses, making decisions about the rest. of. your. life. is a daunting task. This is my third go-around and the experience has been different each time. When it was time for my son to decide which college to go to, he simply chose one and went. Kate, my oldest daughter, applied to 9 schools in a panic thinking she wouldn't get into any, never mind her first choice. She got into every single one. Amanda, my youngest, is somewhere in between. She's applying for early admission, something the other two didn't do. She narrowed down schools long before her siblings did and they're all in the same state. Three children, three very different experiences. College visits are on hold for now, although we may end up re-visiting schools just so she's sure.

With that task (sort of) behind me, I can start to focus on a few house items that need attending to and business as usual. But...it's Friday, which means a little leisure time. Tomorrow we're headed to the Otter Limits Olympic Triathlon. Amanda is biking 25 miles for Team Orr, hopefully not in the rain. And since David and I have been running tractors and bulldozers, shoveling dirt and stone, and building mini rock walls, I'm not sure we're doing much of anything as my muscles are still recovering.

Photo: Brown University campus

Book Giveaway! - Magical Journey: An Apprenticeship in Contentment

You may remember the very brief review I gave of Katrina's book when it was first released last year. Well, it is now in paperback and I am giving away a copy to one of my readers.

Having lived more than half my life, with three (almost grown) children leaving or already out the door, my one true identity is being redefined. And I have struggled with the process. Family has always been my number one priority. As you can probably gather from the post I wrote about my oldest daughter moving off to college as my first granddaughter was born, I was so awestruck by the poignancy of that moment that I could only write words, not sentences.

I knew the day would come when I would face an empty nest, I just didn't think it would be so painful. For the last two years, I've spent my time watching the clock knowing that I only had so many more years, months, weeks, days left of the family life I've come to treasure. When I read Katrina's book "The Gift of an Ordinary Day", all I wanted was more of those days. Much more.

So as Katrina moved on from watching her children walk out the door in various stages, I, too, was following in her footsteps. Which brings me to this book. Change is inevitable, but sometimes you need to hear a few tiny words of wisdom to know you're not alone. Katrina shares those words of wisdom with a kind, caring heart. Follow her on her journey of self-discovery.

Please leave a comment below, and I will pick a winner at random by the end of the weekend. The winner will be contacted and announced next week.

Good luck!