Transitions: A Perfect Night

Transitions are not always easy.Take childbirth, for example. For me, the transition was the worst part. Not back labor. Not pushing. Not even record-breaking head sizes or shoulders. With the birth of each of my three children, the transitions were the most unpleasant part. I mean literally and figuratively.

Most people that know me, and know that I'm a teacher, would be surprised to learn that I said I never wanted children while growing up. That is not cool to admit when you're a mom, but there you have it. I think it is because I was the fourth of four kids. I could see it was work.

I didn't want to get a Mrs. degree either. At least until I was old, like, you know, in my forties. 

I grew up in a very typical town at that time. Most of my peers married young. In my journey I found God and my faith and then wound up in love and married by the age of 22. I had become a teacher. I loved children. My husband I both came from big families and wanted one too, so by the age of 30 we had three kids. 

Now I'm in transition. 

My youngest daughter turned 21 yesterday. The weather was mild and lovely. There was a birthday tiara made of succulents, flowers and feathers and a "Birthday Girl" sash worn while we celebrated. We had brunch with her sister in San Francisco. We shared a beer with their childhood friend. There was a birthday cupcake for photos mixed with a little moodiness when one of us got tired or hungry. We were joined by her brother and the four of us went to a concert in Berkeley. It was a perfect day.

While the band was performing, I laid down on the grass and closed my eyes. My kids thought I was falling asleep and took turns putting their hands over my face. I was remembering a time in our past. It was almost as if we were lying back under the Magnolia tree, a pile of four bodies and quilts, pillows, stuffed animals, flashlights and picture books. And a small dog, he was there too. I could remember for a moment, what the chill in the air felt like if a foot poked out of the edge of the blanket, the kids nudging and bickering. The stars dotting the sky. It was a perfect day.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As far as my parenting goes when my kids were very small, I don't have many regrets.  

I can say my kids went to bed at a too-early-for-them-but-kept-mom-sane hour. They had three meals a day with a protein, a vegetable and a starch. We did not always eat dessert but they would get woken up on occasion for their birthday and get to eat the corner piece of the birthday cake, a cookie or a slice of apple or pumpkin pie. They were always well-dressed and did some kind of exercise every day. As babies they were carried or biked or pushed in a stroller to concerts, museums, parks, sporting venues and shopping. This was replaced by family biking, swimming, walks and even dancing in the park for summer concerts. They talked about their highs and their lows of the day at the dinner table. They were read bedtime stories every night and said their prayers cuddled in bed. They played dress-up, make-believe, baked elaborate sugar cookies for every holiday and had tea parties, with real food. There were dolls and superheroes and fairytales. There was a co-op preschool with a mom and a dad who volunteered, as well as field trips with both. There were cousins, lots of them. And with the cousins came holidays, birthdays, many days in the park, playing at one another's houses and vacations mostly in Tahoe or Yosemite. They camped in tents and trailers and even in the backyard on a blue tarp with the stars overhead canopied by an old magnolia tree. There were special late nights to go to the midnight book sale parties for the latest Harry Potter edition. And there were more late nights involving movie releases as the clock struck 12 on several Thursdays. They had Survivor dinners of pineapple, rice and other island foods and there were forts in the family room left up overnight. As they grew older and expressed an interest they played soccer, basketball, lacrosse, baseball, competed in Irish dancing, bowling, scouting and 4-H. They debated. They sewed. There were crafts and kites and fishing. There were boo-boos and kisses and hugs and love.

I'd like to think it was a mostly-good childhood for all three kids, despite my shortcomings.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As we were leaving the concert and headed to our car late last night we were reflecting on the evening.  "I know you thought I was falling asleep on the grass but I wasn't. I was pretending I was camping in the backyard with the three of you under the Mag-no-li-a," my voice stammered. "Under the Magnolia tree," I finished saying, while choking up.

My kids looked at me, concern on their faces. 

I smiled at them, wiping my tears. 

They started groaning and laughing. They weren't being mean. They were rolling their eyes and exchanging the oh-my-God-would-you-look-at-our-dorky-sappy-mom-but-we-love-her looks with one another.

I started laughing through my tears and we all kept walking.

I think the Head And The Heart song called "Let's Be Still" has one stanza that perfectly states how I felt while lying down at that concert:

The world's just spinning

A little too fast

If things don't slow down soon we might not last

So just for the moment, let's be still

I think, for me, transitions will continue to be one of my least favorite things. But I view last night's as a gift. It was a perfect night.

Empty-Nester Meetings: Behind Closed Doors

 

Behind closed doors in an anonymous meeting, I imagine myself standing up and saying, "Hello, my name is Kathy."

"Hi, Kathy!" The Parents reply.

 "I am forty-eight years old and I am an empty-nester. I would like to confess."

The Parents nod their heads knowingly.

"Here is my story, " I begin...

~~~

A year ago my last child was home for her senior year in high school and my middle child had returned for a semester from college to regroup before heading into his junior year. My eldest child had graduated from college and had just launched herself into full-fledged adulthood with a "real" job/career as a labor and delivery nurse across the country. She had managed to come home to be in a wedding, for holidays and the reality was that I felt I was seeing her more than when she was in college and always studying for the next exam.

With each day's passing the countdown to being a "real" empty-nester (ALL three children gone), I would feel pangs in my parental mommy heart. I'd get teary-eyed when I thought of them leaving. Sometimes I would actually cry, albeit slyly so they couldn't see me. And in the car alone, I cried openly...sometimes quite loudly giving way to gut-wrenching sobs. With each last Back-to-School Night, rally, homecoming, senior portrait, senior ball, Powder Puff football game or event from her senior year, I mourned the ending of an era. That is, the era of my children being children. I knew they were all on the cusp of adulthood and flying the coop. 

Sometimes the transition period has been rough. Sometimes biting words were exchanged or assertive or aggressive actions as they began to spread their wings, just a little. The result sometimes ruffled MY feathers. One mom, in her wisdom, likened it to birds who mess up the nest to the point of being pushed out by the mamas. Quite simply, it's nature's way of allowing birds (parents) to let go. I could give you specific examples of their nastiness, or mine, but it's something I choose to forget. 

This summer I really did relish the time I had with the two of my children still home. My middle child was working a ton of hours at his job at a local grocery store and had begun to sleep at this dad and stepmom's house....with visits to mine. This was a difficult transition for me. I had gotten used to him being with me during the fall, sent him back to school for the spring semester and then welcomed him home, excited for this time together again. I am not a "helicopter" (hovering) parent by nature. But I did. Hover. A lot.

But then his dad and I agreed it was time for another approach, thus the full-time living at his dad's house. When my child came over to "visit" I tried to contain the happiness I felt by faking a cool detached approach. That is not easy for me...as witnessed by the hundreds of photos of me over the years earning the nickname of "Smiley." The time spent with my son was disappointingly spartan this summer. I felt short-changed. I struggled with wanting to support his independence which he was earning back by his actions, while also "missing" him. I felt like we had made great gains in our relationship, though we'd always been close. In the fall I got a glimpse into the inner workings of his head and now saw that opening was closing shut (again, as this had happened during puberty).  In my heart I knew that is typical of almost-adults to pull back but there was also a part of me that felt I had earned the right for "it" (our relationship) to be different.  Maybe so. Maybe not. Thus when he went to school at the end of summer I experienced torn emotions.

With each text or phone call response, or especially the ones initiated by him (and not involving money) my concerns wash a little further away on the shores of parenthood. He's busy. He has a job. School. Prepping for his lacrosse season. Speech and debate. College.  Life. I'm learning (again) to let go.  And learning (anew) the right balance of support and (hopefully) projecting the belief that I believe in him. Because I do. I really really do. I love that man who was formally known as my boy.

With my youngest we had enjoyed a love/hate summer relationship. We loved being together, hated the idea of being apart. We loved one another but began to bicker for the first time. I think we were both feeling a wee bit anxious about the impending separation and sometimes sabotaged our time together with silly quarrels that even we realized were a by-product. 

On the last night together after we had moved her into her dorm room, we walked her back to her dorm. I had my arm draped over her shoulders as she had silent tears slipping down her cheeks. Oddly I felt pride like a peacock, I knew my baby chick was ready, even if she was unsure. She hugged and kissed me good-bye. She did the same with her stepmom, followed by her dad. I cried, "Family hug!"

and her dad, stepmom and I embraced in a circle around her, all hugging tightly. She continued to weep a little and turned to walk toward the front glass entrance.

Her father turned and snapped a photo of her walking away. He then crept behind her, bending over and squinting up at her as she walked up to her top floor via the stairwell. He walked back to us. And we looked at him questingly. "She's going to be fine," he said. "I looked at her face and she quit crying."

I knew then that she would be. And I already was. I got in my car, turned up the music and drove to a nearby girlfriend's house to spend the night. I had a giant grin on my face. I felt hopeful and confident for both she and my son's new beginning. 

On Facebook I had friends send their condolences at the loss of my children leaving the nest. I had a few family members email or phone to check-in. I received inquires asking if I had bawled as I drove away that night, leaving my last child off to start her college journey. 

At home, I had planned activities for myself; biking, swimming, going out for dinner and dating. I cleaned my house. I cleared out my garage, kitchen cupboards, medicine cabinets and closets. I completed my Halloween costume and hung newly purchased stunning decorations, in SEPTEMBER. I had everything ready for my upcoming bike tour: new bike, saddlebags and airplane ticket, in MARCH.  I planned a kick-off party for this weekend for the Ironman Tahoe Triathlon I will be participating in on September 22nd, a YEAR from now.

                                                                

I feel I am in this new creative phase which will include the Ironman training, possibly writing "that book" that I've been putting off, launching a dating business, or grad school or something else. I am ready to spread MY wings too. 

I've come to realize I have begun to settle-in. I'm clearing the debris. I'm reorganizing, prioritizing and evaluating what really matters (again) in my life. 

Am I said? No. The truth is, I sometimes want to join in with the other empty-nester parents by high-fiving ourselves and begin the "Happy Dance." I will admit, it's different than I thought. For the first time I am really really alone. But not. I mean, there is only one person living in my house, me, myself and I. But I have this big, gigantic circle of family: mom, sisters, brother, brother-in-laws, sister-in-law, nieces, nephews and my children. I have my girlfriends (you know, the "other" sisters that we all embrace).  I have friends in my race club, my co-workers, friends that are parents of my children's friends through  soccer, lacrosse, schools and more. I have old childhood swim and school friends, I have new running friends, my writing group whom I don't see often enough, and the ever-widening circle... I also realize the upcoming fall months, faced alone, might prove to be a bit of a challenge. But I've got my piles of books, the drawer filled with movies to watch, dinners to catch-up with friends, and my swimming, biking and running. And the writing I hope to do. And that special someone that will be entering into my life.

~~~~~

I conclude my story with "My name is Kathy. My kids have left home. I admit that I like being an empty-nester."My expression is tentative as I look up at The Parents  in our Empty-Nester Meeting.

The Parents return my expression.

With a smile.

The Parents understand.