Partial Empty Nest Syndrome
Tuesday, September 13th 2011 @ 3:43 AM
It sure feels empty in the house without teenagers around. Just over a week ago, I dropped off my 17-year-old daughter and 14-year-old son at their respective out-of-state high schools. Both kids are independent enough to enjoy the adventure, but my emotions about not having them here kind of sneaked up on me and, well, it sure is quiet around here!
It’s not like we don’t keep in touch. With cell phones, e-mail, Skype, and mental telepathy (i.e., the sixth sense that tells me I should remind them to take their vitamins), there’s no shortage of avenues for near-constant communication. But it’s not the same as chatting in the kitchen, or hearing them laughing in the other room, or e-mailing them across the house at 1:00 AM to tell them to please go to bed because it’s late. (Now I have to e-mail them across state lines to tell them the same thing.)
It’s not the same as handing them their cute toddler sister to play with, change, or take outside for some fresh air. And it’s not the same as giving good-night kisses to the teen who will still let me do that (and who shall remain nameless).
And for my two-year-old, Skype is just not the same as getting the kind of snuggles she’s used to getting from her big brother and biggest sister.
And so for the past week, I’ve been kind of emotional. It hits me when I’m perfectly happy, just being mommy to my other kids who haven’t flown the coop yet (and of course I use the term “yet” in the sense of “and they never will, right?”). I’ll be happily making dinner—and it hits me that my son would really have loved this dinner. And that makes me cry. Or I’ll be happily enjoying some cute new thing my two-year-old is doing—and it hits me that my teen daughter would have gone crazy for how cute it is. And that makes me cry, too.
I tell myself that these are a good kind of tears. They’re tears that show how much our family loves each other, and how close our children feel toward each other, and how much little things like a good dinner or a good-night kiss really do matter to kids. They’re tears that come from knowing we have been doing our job well, if our job is to love our children (and it is). And they’re tears that come from knowing that a big chapter of our job is now past—and an even bigger chapter has yet to unfold.
Having high-school-age kids away from home makes me come to terms with all this a little sooner than I was really prepared for, and that makes it all the more emotional, I think. But it’s a growing experience for them, and for me too. And it’s only a few weeks until the Yomim Tovim, when the whole family will be together again. Meanwhile, I’m grateful for the technology that keeps us all in touch, and every night I’m sure my kids know I’m right here, sending them telepathic bedtime kisses.
