Marriage, raising a family, taking care of a home and all that
these encompass is not unlike a race. One day runs into the next. You tuck them
into bed one night and a hundred thousand loads of laundry later the same
adorable faces that once looked up with innocent trust into your eyes now show
the scorn of defiance. There is no slowing down at this point; rather you
gather all of your strength to make it successfully across the finishing line
of raising children. The line that once appeared clear in your mind is suddenly
foggy. Grown children are moving into apartments, off to college, into
marriages, out of the house and back in again. That day when you become an empty nester is
less formidable and slightly more appealing.
Eventually it arrives; usually with a sigh of relief that
your darlings did, after all, turn into decent, productive adults. Much like
the runner of a race, your legs have yet to slow down, your heart still pounds
against your chest just as your feet pound against the concrete. Or stairs, as
the case may be. We continue to dash about the house. We sprint to the kitchen
sink where too few dishes only half fill the sink. We rush to the laundry room
where once lay a mound of soiled clothing, only to find too few pieces to fill
the oversized wash tub you were sure you would always need. Your husband asks
why you cooked enough for an army; while you are convinced your brood will once
again, meander through the door at dinner time. They always did. We are never,
even when we look forward to the day, fully prepared for an empty nest. Be you
the stay at home mom or the upwardly mobile career mom, home changes once your
children move out.
One day you sit on your favorite side of the sofa, look
around to find your house has stayed cleaned. Your heart admits what your mind
has known. You are an empty nester. Panic sets in at the realization you now
live alone with the man you married and raised the grown children with. You
cautiously wonder how much you have left in common with this man. Yes, yes, we
know. You were so much more hip than your parents. You and hubby had date
night. Peel away the layers and what did you discuss? The...children. It is a stage of life that has haunted the
successful and not-so-much successful empty nesters as they take those first
few cagey steps into the rest of their lives.
My personal first few steps included Googling, researching
and separating the good from bad advice out there on empty nesting. I was left
unsatisfied. What advice I did find left me wanting. What I sought was good,
solid advice. Much of what I read referenced sex alone. One such article
suggested, as empty nesters, we take advantage of the privacy and meander
around the house naked. Visions of Peg Bundy danced through my head; an older Peg Bundy groping Al, to be accurate.
I am all for discussing intimacy as an
aspect of the fifty-plus crowd. Far be it from me from me to raise my nose and
sniff at such topics. It is an aspect though. Not the whole enchilada. As an
aside, my once lithe, agile body no longer looks like a duplicate of Heidi
Klum. Parading it around the living room might get my husband's attention. It
would do little for my self-esteem...or libido, for that matter. (On the up
side, my husband is still with me...unlike Heidi Klum's. Who says body tone is
everything? Not Seal.)
In light of the lack of information, I contacted two good
female friends who are new to empty nesting. Our collective experiences,
coupled with advice, is documented in order to shed some light on this
I decided to take my own experience, along with that of two
close friends, in order to shed a little light on this much talked about,
anxiously anticipated and dreaded time. The three of us are recent empty
nesters, all still married to the same men we raised families with.
S.L. Bartlett is an author who delights in the country life she
and her family have created in the small town of Onoway, outside of Edmonton,
Canada. As the mother of three grown sons, the youngest handicapped, she lends
a unique viewpoint.
"I was never a solicitous mother."
S. L. began went asked to write on her experience. " My first two boys
were raised with what I kindly (to myself) called “loving neglect”, satisfying
my motherly duties limited to teaching them to never talk to strangers or weird
relatives without my husband or I being present, or stealing candy from stores
without fear of serious bodily harm from me, and being kind to animals. But
that all changed when my youngest son was born. We were lucky to receive a
diagnosis early in his life, four days old, which was unusual for patients with
my son’s extremely rare disorder. FOP was not normally diagnosed until the sufferers
were two or more years of age, and lucky even then, before more damage could be
inflicted by tests that did more harm than good. Because of him, I discovered
that my normally sloppy, apathetic maternal instincts were aroused to
over-protective mother bear status. They say things happen for the best, and he
certainly proved it, for this new behavior drifted to my other sons as
well. More important, having a
handicapped child severely curtailed my normal, adventurous proclivity and
grounded me, as long as no one expected “super-Mom”.
For twenty years I functioned on this
level, keeping my attention span devoted almost exclusively to my boys, most
especially my youngest. Mind you, my husband knew I was married before and that
I came with a son. I give him all the credit that he was willing to take on a
selfish, adrenaline-junky, single mother who modeled her first born in a
portable little package that travelled with me on my adventures that were
unusual, to say the least. My husband to barely instill enough responsibility
in me to ensure I stuck around the house long enough to change diapers and feed
the boys before rushing out to chase tornados or some equally exciting foray.
My youngest son became my anchor, and I soon had to forgo my search for
adventures.
Only a few months ago, my youngest son
moved out, eager for his independence, into a very good assisted living housing
unit. While I was thrilled for him, it was with an aching heart, selfishly
suffering from anxiety and loneliness. My main reason for existence was gone,
not to mention my sidekick who shared my sense of humor and eternal fodder for
my writing.
My husband and I have never been
alone. I already had a child when I met him, albeit I treated my son more as a
pet than a child. He was like my faithful puppy, clean, well fed and always by
my side on my frequent adventures of my own making. So when my youngest moved
out, my biggest fear was that we would have nothing to talk about. Our
conversations for twenty three years had consisted of how to get children’s
bodily parts separated from various stair railings, or butts out of buckets, or
rescue youngest son from the roof of the shed when other two sons wanted to
ditch him by using his gullibility against him, or other equally embarrassing
but urgent situations. Now that they gone, what possible conversations could we
have, or avoid for that matter. Any semblance of intimacy was gone twenty
minutes after meeting each other, since my first born, then six years old, felt
he had the perfect right to insinuate himself between us and proceeded to
interview my date as a potential father. I have to say, my son showed amazing
perception, and on his approval, we were married shortly afterwards. Even then,
we had to sneak any intimacy in between demands for breakfast, lunch and
dinners, help with homework, and late night drinks of water and resulting trips
to the bathroom. It didn’t help that I was immediately pregnant, and then a
year and a half later, another son, my youngest, arrived.
For the last 21 years, I could not
wander from home. Most of the time, I couldn’t go any further than the grocery
store, and only if getting a few things and not gone more than half an hour.
Occasionally, I could leave my husband with my son as long as it did not
involve bodily fluids or male nakedness, even his own son’s. My husband was a
typical redneck type. But he was the best father when he made my son full meals
when all he wanted was a snack, and helping him with homework (doing it himself
while my son watched TV and ate). It became instinct to check everything in the
house and make sure my son was safe before I could even leave the house, doors
open, to do some gardening, let alone go anywhere.
It is now 23 years later, and husband
and wife are alone. We had forgotten how to be a man and a woman, friends and
lovers. This would take some adjusting, not to mention I missed my sons and
their antics that may not have been funny at the time, but now we found
hilarious, recalling them with laughter and fondness. Surprisingly enough, I
re-discovered the selfish single woman I was before the arrival of troublesome
creatures, and even more surprising, my husband seems to like it. He has even
hesitantly accompanied me on some of my newly re-discovered adventures,
although he is nervous about it, always having been a staid, calm, sensible
type; quite my opposite. However, we have always shared the joy of outdoor
activities like fishing and camping, and have taken it up with a vengeance now
that my youngest, who could never go camping because of his restrictions, is in
safe housing and gone. Before this, my husband usually got to go, and me rarely
since I had to stay home. It is very hard to find a babysitter for a severely
handicapped child, and I probably wouldn’t have trusted anyone else anyway.
I find I like being able to just jump in my
car and leave, not having to think about it. Perversely, I also miss the
restrictions. On some level I suspect I resent my youngest for not needing me
anymore, and for brazenly learning the lessons I tried to instill in him. In
fact, he learned better than my other two boys, probably because it was far
more essential if he had any hope of living his own life.
When my youngest came home for
Christmas for a month, I was in my element. However, I was also once again
stuck to the house, and lost my independence. I enjoyed being needed again, but
when it came time for him to go back, I also admit I was relieved. I had become
accustomed to being free again, and since then the resentment and loneliness
had eased considerably. It hasn’t even been a year, and I’m being patient with
myself. I envy men; my husband doesn’t seem to notice the difference much, but
I still find myself checking my son’s old room out of habit before realizing I
don’t need to do that anymore. I suffer a brief pang of regret, but as I pick
up my keys to go about my business, I find myself smiling. It’s not only the
freedom I regained, but also my son’s freedom; the freedom for him to make his
own decisions, the freedom of knowing he can handle what comes his way, and
that we, his parents and brothers, will always be there whenever he needs us."
S. L. (Sheree) submitted this as a
rough draft. The more I read it, the more I decided to leave it as it is. The
raw emotion of a mother with a handicapped child comes through. I felt it
important to leave that element alone.
My only commentary to the above would
be to address a father's adjustment to the empty nest. Men are not, by nature,
nurturers. Men teach, they encourage self-reliance and bravery (usually much to
our chagrin.) Fathers instinctively know when it is 'time' for children to be
on their own. Generally speaking,
husbands and fathers adapt to the empty nest with much more ease than mothers.
I do not subscribe to the theory that a working mother conforms to the empty
nest as well as a man. Women, working or otherwise, are nurturers. It is that
vein that my own story begins.
To the world it appears I rule the
roost. I laugh at this misconception. The truth is; my husband happily allows
me to have my way until it is time for me not to. It was during one of these
episodes when he announced, "No one is moving back in, do you
understand?" I nodded with all of the obedience of a wife who knows her
husband is right. I would have likely allowed the revolving door that had
become our home, to endure. Unlike Sheree, who was forced by her youngest
child's FOP, into vigorously insisting her offspring reach the age of
independence, I was content to allow mine to lean on me. In defense of my actions, the great recession
had hit full force, alternately throwing families into leaning on each other. I
not only enabled. I encouraged. My point being, my husband knew our children
were ready. I was the hold out. Hindsight is 20/20.
I asked Dana Matthews to contribute
her ideas, as well. A recent empty nester, she has a son and a step-daughter.
Much like me, her mother was dying as her children were leaving. Another monkey
wrench in the works of transitioning from 'married with children' to 'empty
nester' is the death of our parents. This is usually preceded by the caring of
our parents. In both our circumstances, we lost our fathers first and cared for
our mothers in their final months, days, hours.
At my request, Dana wrote down some
helpful suggestions to consider.
Simplifying Life.
First
you have to learn to embrace the quiet and live for yourself. This is
hard since you have been selfless for so much of your life. If you can do
that, the rest is easy and fun.
After you learn to except that there are just the two
of you, you start to find things to do together. At first I thought we
had to do big things, vacation, day trips........but then (after exhausting my
husband) I realized that little things matter more. Going to the
store together, fixing dinner, eating when you want instead of being on someone
else's schedules.
But what I really like, is after there is no one else to worry
about, you can finally start learning who you are. I always knew that life
was a journey, but I just didn't see where I fit into it all. Who has
time? Work, family, dramas......It's not just your children, but your
parents too. Then things start to slow down and you can actually think about
yourself and what you are about. I actually had to learn how to enjoy
myself without doing it for someone else.
In learning about yourself, you also see things that need to
change. Time isn't endless any more. And you know it. You
don't want to waste time on things that are no longer needed. Below
is my insane list of things I have done to simplify my life:
Learn not to be an enabler (should be every ones
number 1)
Scale everything down
I use two things to clean, vinegar and dish soap (my husband
cleans the main bathroom)
Throw things away I don't use (or enjoy). Why
continue to clean something that is just sitting there year after year
Do things in smaller time frames instead of doing everything at
once
I shower when I go to the gym since I swim and I am already wet
I cook my week's worth of breakfast on Sunday
Organization - I calendar things I need to do, it helps me focus
Buy things with the thought of "what is easier"
Take my car through the car wash
Work is just a job, not your life
Make several weekly menus for dinner and rotate them, this helps
buy the right foods and I don't have to think about "what's for
dinner"
Change or remove as much stress as possible.......I think
"is that going to stress me out"
Know myself and what is important to me and what isn't
I have less bills and auto pay some of them
Listen to my gut/intuition.................it's wrong less
than my brain
Save money for things I want to do
Accept the present and meditate when I get tired
Now I have time to spend doing the things that I enjoy!
Lastly,
I will add my own sage advice. I am happy to report each of my three children manage
well without my interference. As do I. In the last eleven months I have:
1)
Reconnected with the two wonderful women who helped contribute to this blog.
(Thank you again to both S.L. (Sheree) Bartlett and Dana Matthews!)
2)
Sheree and I have completed the first book of a series of three books we plan
to co-author. "No Gentleman Is He" is the first book. Our baby. It is
in the final editing stages. We have, as well, began the second book and I have
begun research on my own project set in the gilded age of the 1890s. I have
always loved writing from the time I was in my 'tweens'. How awesome that the
time presents itself where I can work on what I love!
3)
Walked the busy streets of New York City with Dana. (I am not a country girl.
Give me the bright lights of the city.)
4)
Vacationed in Upstate New York with my husband. (Admittedly, it was to see our
son, daughter-in-law and two of our granddaughters. However, we get a nice
hotel close by and spend time to ourselves becoming acquainted with the area.)
5)
Spent many hours pleasuring myself by finding new styles of clothing,
downsizing my house, reinventing my make up style, re-acquainting myself with
capable adult children, reading how-to books on writing, finding the perfect
vehicle that allows us to travel and yet not drag a huge machine around with us.
We settled on a Rav 4 and love it. Many hours have been spent riding through
the city and countryside discussing our lives and what we want for the future. Now
that I am in the empty nest groove, it will be full steam ahead.
Additionally,
I would like to toss in my own advice for those of you looking toward or
submerged in empty nesting.
1)
Let technology be your friend. Don't shrink from the convenience of smart
phones and online bill paying. Go paperless. Who needs all of that extra paper tossed
around their house? Not I. In neat folders in my email are receipts with confirmation
numbers and bills paid. It could be said this is advice anyone of any age could
benefit from; though I find the fifty-some crowd more reluctant.
2)
Cut your hair. Yes, Cut. Your. Hair. Gravity pulls our face down with time. A
nice short to mid-length cut will make your face look younger. So will
highlights (I am blonde on blonde.) Find a decent salon with a stylist you can
trust.
3)
Take a walk (or ride) at an odd time. Just because you finally can.
4)
Revamp your kitchen. Tuck away the mixer/blender/toaster oven. You'll want them
for company, especially on holidays when your kitchen is once again in full
tilt. You don't need these small appliances every day. Throw away the old, bent
flatware. Buy new and enjoy it now that it's only you and your husband. Give
away stuff you'll never use again. Dishes, pots/pans, the three extra crock
pots you'll never need again. Your children, who are now running their own
race, will gratefully accept them.
5)
Meal time can be romantic! Like me, your meals as a family probably revolved
around roasts, ham, meatloaf; any food that could feed your tribe and fill
those empty pits known as stomachs. It is time to invest in steaks and chops.
Meals are downsized, hence so is the cost. Indulge.
6)
An addendum to number 5 is my own personal formula for intimacy. I am at my
least amorous on a full stomach. With an empty house, perhaps it is time to
switch your love making routine to pre-dinner time. This works for us...and
we're always famished afterward; ready to devour a good meal. Find your own
time. Work with your body clocks.
7)
Why heat/air condition empty space? Downsize. Many of our friends, along with
Monty and I, moved to a townhouse. Give yourself enough room to paint and
create that private space we all long for. Office, library, man-cave. It's a
fun project you can work on together. Another change we made was to move my
husband into his own bathroom. No, he doesn't clean it. I do. However given
that he no longer complains about my 'products' and I no longer have to look at
his 'shavings', it is more than worth it to me. My happiness is augmented by my
lack of falling into the toilet with the seat up in the middle of the night.
8)
I opted to keep my oversized high efficiency washer and dryer. I put the over
sized drums to work for me by only doing one load of each per week. One load of
whites, one load of darks, etc. With the exception of bedclothes, this works
perfectly. I do the same with my dishwasher. I fill it and run it once a day.
You may find you need to run your less. No longer are you a slave to these
major appliances. They now work for you.
9)
Decide how often you will have grandchildren over and stick.to.it. They are
fun, keep you young and on your toes. They are not yours, however. Nor should
you take on the responsibility. There will be exceptions, of course. Our
Scarlett was hospitalized, so we took the other two older children for two
weeks. That is an exception. That they cannot find a sitter for a night out is
not. Stick to your guns. Grands should be enjoyed not burdensome.
10)
As much you need time to reveal yourselves to each other again, it is as
important to respect each other's space and time alone. My husband is a man of
great faith. Each morning he spends one to two hours with his bible and
research books. I could wake up and start talking. He would allow me because
it's the kind of person he is. I don't. I want him to have this time that
brings him personal fulfillment. This is not an interest we share. God is
important in my life. Church is not. Although I have encouraged him to go
without me, he enjoys his time alone with his faith. If I could find a church
where the people did not equate being a Christian with being a card carrying
member of the conservative movement, it might work. As it is, I leave more
confused than when I entered. Still, I have great respect for the person he has
become through his faith...and that he can have such faith without one iota of
judgment. I, on the other hand, am a political junkie. I can go on a non-stop
rampage on the virtues of liberalism. He not only agrees, he encourages my free
thinking. He allows me time to write, visit friends, take trips to NYC with my
cousin and basically enjoy my personal time. I try to do the same for him. You
will not always enjoy the same interests. Trust your relationship is strong
enough to survive a few differences. You'll come back to each other stronger
and more interesting.
Give
yourselves time to get to know each other again. To quote one of my favorite
songs: "Do a lot of catching up a little at a time."
Please
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