Emotional Misery. That's what I remember about those first few months of becoming an empty nester. After we sent our youngest child off to college, my husband and I had the blues all through that September. There was a sadness in coming home from work to a house that was too quiet--no music seeping through the walls, no basketball being bounced indoors. I missed the excitement and tension my children injected into the house.
Then I got used to it. My spouse and I started building a life that no longer centered around being responsible for the everyday lives of our children.
After a few years of living this less stressful way of life, our oldest child, the one who had been living on the other coast for a while, came home for the summer with a boyfriend in tow. Her dad was thrilled. Of course he was. He had helped get her a summer internship with a Congressman and now he, who had worked for the Congress for many happy years, would be able to see her experience unfold before his eyes.
I did not feel the same way. Here's what I wrote in my journal:
"I am filled with ambivalency. Mike and I have this quiet but very pleasant life together. I'm able to pay close attention to his needs; there's no competition for my time. And it is not half bad being detached from your children's concerns on a daily basis, being off the roller coaster. Susan [a friend] has similar concerns with her two sons coming home this summer."
For all the sadness we go through when our children move out, are we ready and willing to go back to the old routines if they return? Clearly, I wasn't sure. We hadn't repurposed our daughter's room--she could move right back in. But my summer would now be filled with responsibilities--for regular meals, for advice (or making sure we didn't butt in if we weren't asked), for observing up close and personally what was going on in our child's 20-something life.
Of course, she was now an independent young woman. She didn't want to be coddled or treated as the teenager she was when she first left home. Within days of her arrival she went to work for six weeks in a Congressman's office and the boyfriend, who hoped to become a winemaker, had gotten a job at an upscale food emporium that sold high-end wine. The summer of a refilled nest looked promising. And in ways it was positive. My daughter and I were able to take long walks (and talks) and we got to know the boyfriend (they had talked about marriage) better.
So here was the downside. The internship turned out to be a mini-disaster. She hated the job with good reasons. The Congressman was an old-school sexist and she found many of the demands of the job demeaning. She wasn't political; what she liked was going to Congressional hearings (and taking notes for the congressman). But she was often called out of the hearing to drive a constituent to the airport. There were other bumps in the road. She received word that a master's program at Stanford had turned her down, although she admitted the program was designed for those who already had advanced degrees and she didn't have one. Nonetheless, she was disappointed and we felt it.
The bottom line is that, after a year or two of being an empty nester, I had gotten used to it. Liked it. And I didn't want to be so close to the roller coaster again.
painting: House on a Hill by Edward Hopper