This weekend, our youngest packed his suitcase, loaded his car, and left for NASA Langley Research Center where he has a STEM-related summer internship — something related to stepper motors, I believe (whatever they are).
This move is something we’ve encouraged — strongly. In fact, we’ve told him he’d need to go to a “dorm college” this next year (as opposed to the living-at-home community college situation of the last couple years). So after he’s done with his internship, he’s off to Virginia Tech to study Sustainable Systems Science (whatever that is).
We are delighted by these changes, and relieved, too, because there’s always an internal exhale when a child makes connections.
But now that they’ve happened, or are happening, twinges of sadness come creeping in.
This is it, y’all. We brought four humans into the world and now they’ve moved out into it. The home we’ve spent the last twenty years creating now houses just us. (And Eucefe, but he leaves in a few weeks.)
We are — [drumroll] — empty nesters.
I thought I was going to love this “It’s Just Us” stage (and I’m pretty sure I will), but right now? I’m mildly bereft.
***
My wobbly feelings are mostly concentrate on one thing: his bedroom.
See, the children’s rooms have always been a manifestation of their ever-more-pronounced personalities with the accompanying developing interests, vacillating temperaments, and strong opinions. As each of them grew, my already-minimal involvement in their rooms diminished, though my irritation at all the “wrong” ways the rooms were being managed never wavered.
It was their space in my house, and I could not wait to reclaim it.
So for weeks now, I have been actively making plan for my younger son’s newly-emptied bedroom, a room which has driven me batty with its sprawling chaos.
But then he moved out and suddenly there was no one to rail against about the mess. His room, still cluttered with the detritus from packing, now felt like a shell. The soul had left it, and — poof — so had my excitement about fixing it up.
Why was I no longer excited? The minute I mentally formulated that question, the tears, and the answer, came:
When I clean out this last child’s room and paint it over, I will have “erased” him from this home.
Which is melodramatic and absolutely not true. It’s not like he’s died, for crying out loud.
- His stuff is still here (but I’m gonna box it up).
- He will be coming home frequently for at least the next couple years.
- Home is the place where when you go there they have to take you in — and for all our children, we will, forever and always.
But this is no longer his primary place. He’s moving on.
***
I was feeling lightly chagrined about my sadness, but then yesterday a friend told me her mother always said the intense loss she felt when her children were leaving home was almost like the grief that comes from a death.
And it is a death, in a way. The family I lived in, and for, doesn’t exist the same way anymore. And even if I don’t want it to exist like that anymore, even if I’ve been encouraging the changes, it’s still a loss.
***
And it’s not just about the bedroom remodel, either, even though that’s what my angst fixates on. It’s about the house, or me in the house.
When we bought this place, it was for us, and us back then meant two parents, three children, and a fourth in utero. Always, this house has been our family’s.
What does it mean to reclaim space that was never meant for just two?
***
When two single parents join households, it’s often advised they get a new space to prevent one spouse from living in the shadow of the former. A new place clears the air and sets them both on equal footing.
So if my husband and I bought this house for our family, maybe we need a new place that’s just for us? A place we can start fresh?
We’re not going to do that, of course. That’d be silly, this is our home. But with all the children gone, there’s a foreignness to this place.
I’m not sure if I belong, or how I belong.
***
It has occured to me that my fixer-upper excitement may be a coping technique. Jumping to remodel is my way of outpacing the pain of being left behind.
The flipside, I suppose, is the urge some parents have to preserve the child’s room as is, so when (if) the child returns, their room will be intact.
And probably there are some parents who don’t think much about it at all.
We all have our tactics.
***
So anyway, our baby has left home.
A couple nights ago, he sent a photo of the fish he caught with his housemate, and mornings before work, he sometimes sends me outfit-check photos to make sure he is appropriately attired. (He is.) Last I heard, he’s living on bagels and cereal and having a grand old time.
Today I went rug shopping.
This same time, years previous: onion relish, yoga sol, try and keep up, so much milk, in the bedroom, black lives matter, the quotidian (6.3.19), mama said, this is us, brown sugar rhubarb muffins, when the studies end.
14 Comments
Carla
After my mother passed, the second or third time I went “home” to the old homestead I was astounded that it no longer felt like home. Nor did it feel even like my old home. I had no idea that my mom’s presence was what actually made it feel like home. The house is still there and many of the furnishings are the same (owned by my brothers, it’s used for lodging when family comes into town.) But, it just feels like a place to stay, not like home. I don’t know how your children view the changes you’ve made to their rooms, but it may be that they can easily accept it simply because YOU’RE there.
Jennifer Jo
That last sentence made my breath catch. I never thought of it from that angle. I hope you’re right.
Kim
I feel colllege kids rooms should stay as they are. I mean. They will be home periodically. Glad when I was a young adult my parent’s didn’t immediately reclaim my room
friedfa0da23499
My youngest daughter was my partner in all horse activities. We went to horse shows together. We rode horses almost daily together, we cleaned stalls, we brushed horses, we did all things horsey together so when she moved out of our home to one of our rentals in the next town over to go to college, I felt a huge loss.
My barn was empty of her laughter and our constant chatter about all the things that we would chat about but I knew that we had spent so much quality time with each other that most parents don’t get to spend with their children that I knew it was the right thing to let her go and become the adult she needed to be. I mourned her daily absence and felt a huge hole.. and I had to do all horse chores by myself.
When our oldest daughter went to college 15 years ago – the next town over, we started a Sunday dinner for anyone who wanted to come and hang out with us. Sometimes she would bring friends with her. Sometimes it was a new boyfriend, we didn’t really care as long as we got to see her and catch up with her school, work, friends life. We figured at least our college aged daughter would get at least one good meal a week.
15 years later, we are STILL doing Sunday meals. Our oldest brings her husband, my middle son (not married) comes when he can and our youngest daughter comes almost each week with her husband and will be soon bringing our very first grandchild some time in October.
Life has a way with taking over and just happening and moving too fast for my comfort. I miss those barn days. I miss having kids in my house and the noise that came with all the activities…so I am beyond excited to get to meet my first grand baby this October and I hope to introduce him to the cows, the horses, the chickens and of course the garden.
Thanks for your stories Jennifer. I enjoy them!
suburbancorrespondent
It’s so weird, right? You work toward this moment for over 20 years, and then it’s still shocking, I’m still trying to figure it out. The quiet, though, I do bask in that at times.
Jonathan
Your grandson will soon enough be thundering down the stairs in the morning howling for some Farmer Boy Pancakes, just like his daddy did all those years ago!
Jennifer Jo
I gotta get that room fixed up!
Cera Lamken
Oh.My.Word. ♥️. All the feels on this one!!! So beautifully and authentically expressed….
Becky
Your title says it all. They are ours for what feels like a long and busy season, but ultimately they are God’s, and we get to enjoy them as friends once they are gone, and if they choose. You must know, though, that there are even greater riches ahead as you enjoy them as amazing adults.
melodiemillerdavis
This set me crying.
Thank you very much.
I’m glad you have a grandbaby to ease the tears and thoughts.
Kati
Oh my, what a journey that has been so far! First of all, congratulations to your son (and you)! I don’t know you in real life but I’ve been following your blog for so long that it almost feels that way, a tiny bit, anyway. The glimpses into your family life, your writing, and your projects have been an inspiration, thank you for that! My daughter is five, so, no comparison there, but she loves to tell me that she will never ever leave our home for her own place, and then I have to tell her that she can live with us for as long as she likes. That makes her happy and makes me smile and for a moment I can actually believe she is going to do just that. So, I’m not in a position to offer any wise words other than to say I’m remaining very curious about what is going to happen on your blog! Best wishes from Norway!
Jamie
It’s strange going back to living with just your spouse when you’ve had your life wrapped around the kids and family you created. You don’t stop being a mother, the relationships just transition. It’s not a final resting ground, but a temporary spot while you try to figure out which direction to go. It can be uncomfortable after being in one spot so long. I’m 49 and realized I’ve been a mother for 60% of my life. I noticed when my youngest left, that was when the mom guilt hit for me. All the things I should’ve taught them, and different choices I would’ve made if I did it again.
I’m so glad we had some trips planned. Both big and small. Getting out of the house and just enjoying my husband was fantastic. It’s nice to reconnect with your spouse when you are less involved in the daily details of your kids lives. There is a different peace watching them keep growing without all the muddy drama of knowing about their everyday life. Getting to enjoy the highlights and learn from them is awesome! We like to joke that “the babysitter said they could stay late” when we’re doing things that would have been less convenient if the kids were still here. We are having so much fun together. I finally got rid of our youngest’s bed last year. It went from his exclusive room I was happy to keep the same when he left for college, to an annoying space that could be better used. (We have a smaller house.) For exercising, crafts, sorting of junk to declutter, starting plants, guests…. His stuff is still on the walls and the closet is his, but I have a nice air mattress for when he comes home from college a few weeks a year.
Last year we added our first grandchild which was a different ballgame. We absolutely love her and I love watching my oldest become a mother. I cried when I read your post about your grandson’s birth. I’m crying again just writing this. Your words are beautiful and I love reading your blog. I’ve read it 12+ years??? When Brandy mentioned it on her blog. I love your writing and how you can transfer your thoughts and feeling to paper. You have a gift for connecting to people through your writing. Thanks for sharing your life with us.
Judi
Gretchen Rubin has renamed the empty nest phase to the open door phase – I like the way that sounds better.
katie
from the little bits and pieces I know of you, that house will not feel or be empty for long, or for a very large percentage of its time. you have a way of filling your spaces and places with family and community, old and new.
Please though, do take a brief moment to appreciate that “it’s just us” not “its just you”. Because that’s a wonder and an accomplishment and something to celebrate that you have shared all those years in that space and have grown and changed so much and will get to share more time and more years with another person who is NOT leaving you! That’s not a small thing.