with Natalie caine

June 25, 2007 | by Admin2 | No Comments

by Allison | submitted on June 25, 2007

Dear Empty Nesters,

When I write to you I feel like we are old time friends. We are. We are parents. Parents who did our best. Parents who laughed at our kids jokes and school plays, and held them crying with fevers and tummy aches. Parents who read them GOOD NIGHT MOON. Parents who grabbed the car keys to make it to the games, to car pool, to play dates. Parents who cheered them on when they tried out, went to their first party, and sleep away camp. Parents who shopped and hoped they would like what we bought them. Parents who said yes, you can do it. Parents who let go of the back of the bike seat. Parents who let go when they carried their back packs to class, to field trips, to sleepovers, on buses, airplanes, trains, dorms, apartments, houses.

You know we are old time friends because we love our children more than we even knew what love really felt like and how it would change our lives. We are friends because we deal with budgets, choices, nights alone, sacrifices, sleepless nights, tantrums, rejection, worries, confusion, yelling, mistakes, fears, messes, exhaustion, social events, doubts, disappointments, tears, excitement, celebrations, sorrows, loss, illness, trauma, unfairness, awkwardness, hopes, big smiles.

Friends because we are devoted and would rise to a calling at any age and anytime of night.

We would fall into bed and feel like we are the lucky ones to have these children, to feel this fullness in our rooms, to know we made a difference, to see them in the morning and begin a new day.

Parents know their children it’s just NOT REAL until they are gone. Then our children left. We suffered. We adjusted. We actually got our groove on and our graduation certificates, but they are back in the nest and I wonder dear empty nesters, NOW WHAT.

Just when I think I got my smiles and routines and friends gathered, I am hearing and seeing my children daily, but they aren’t children…they are adults. Adults living in our home where my coffee cup, my towel, my CD’s and DVD’s are cluttered with theirs.

Where is the love? Well it is calling for a redefinition and rhythm. Like you, I love them, but come on, I am done. I don’t want to talk when I don’t’ want to talk, I don’t want to see piles of laundry, empty milk cartons back in the frig, empty car tanks, loud voices and music, changing of plans, full sink of dishes, empty cereal boxes, lights left on, phone ringing, friends popping in and my having to keep my door closed.

Come on now I don’t mean to burst the love bubble, but pop….I don’t want to figure out this new role stuff. I want to be self centered and take the money and run. Ok not really, but come on now, I don’t want to share my space. There I said it. ONE WEEK and already it stinks. They can’t get it. They are only in their twenties and I am way beyond those years, happily, except for the lack of gravity and fatigue.

So dear friends can you give me a little light on this dark subject of children moving back home?

See ya in the super market.

Allison