Entry #8 ~Testing....testing....

(September 19th)

“Life is a test.  It was designed to be so.”  Richelle E. Goodrich

She’s the one who left for university.

She’s the one who had to pack up her room, move into the residence, and learn a new city.

She’s the one who is writing essays, researching authors, and taking classes.

So why does it feel like I’m the one who is being tested?

 It’s been three weeks since she left; she’s been back to visit (ok…well, do laundry) one weekend out of the past two.

She’ll be back again for a quick visit this weekend; we have a Tiger Cats football game to go to in Hamilton tomorrow night.

I’m sure there’ll be (a small amount of) laundry to do.

I’m sure we’ll go apple-picking out in St. George and take in the Apple Harvest Festival.

I’m sure we’ll both get along fine.

Until we don’t.

We’ve both gone through some interesting changes since she spread her wings and left the nest. I was surprised at how much had changed in the two short weeks she’d been gone during her first visit back home.

Even though the music had changed, we still fell into step doing the same old dance, the same old routine, the same old mother-and-daughter list of grievances and non-solutions.

It all worked out in the end, but it was an eye-opener and learning experience for both of us.

Brazilian lyricist and novelist, Paulo Coelho, wrote: “When we least expect it, life sets us a challenge to test our courage and willingness to change; at such a moment, there is no point in pretending that nothing has happened or in saying that we are not yet ready. The challenge will not wait. Life does not look back.”

I am perfectly ok with all of that, but I didn’t think the process would be so quick, so abrupt, once it started.

In fewer than three weeks, I have grown to enjoy my evening solitude, my clean house status, and my ability to come and go as I please without having to consider someone else’s schedule or needs.

In fewer than three weeks, she has started texting me less and less throughout the day, hasn’t asked to borrow the car, and is becoming already more independent.

Three weeks.

And the ‘looking back’ part? Not really.

Not unless thumbing through her baby book and grade school projects count.

If so, then yes.

But not really.

“Life is a test.  It was designed to be so,” said author Richelle Goodrich. “It is where we taste the bitter and the sweet; where we feel pain and pleasure; where we learn right from wrong; where we pass through both darkness and light.  It is a time to make choices.  And through this process we form our characters - some grand and glorious, some barely decent, and others just plain monstrous. ”

I like the sound of that; ‘forming our character’.

It doesn’t sound as challenging as ‘being tested’.

It doesn’t leave me feeling as panicked or stressed as the word ‘test’ does.

‘Character-building’ sounds far more progressive and positive in nature.

But make no mistake, my friends, there is a test.

Life is a series of lessons, and living your life is the test.

I like the way American author, John Green, put it: “The test will measure whether you are an informed, engaged, and productive citizen of the world, and it will take place in schools and bars and hospitals and dorm rooms and in places of worship. You will be tested on first dates, in job interviews, while watching football, and while scrolling through your Twitter feed. The test will judge your ability to think about things other than celebrity marriages, whether you’ll be easily persuaded by empty political rhetoric, and whether you’ll be able to place your life and your community in a broader context. The test will last your entire life, and it will be comprised of the millions of decisions that, when taken together, will make your life yours. And everything, everything, will be on it.”

Parenthood (a wonderful Steve Martin classic) has always had the ability to make me laugh, make me cry, make me wonder, and make me think. Maybe it’s about time for me to dust off the old VHS tape hiding in the cupboard, grab a blanket and some popcorn, and curl up some lonely Saturday night to watch it again.

After three of the longest short weeks I’ve ever experienced, I’ve come to the conclusion that it really doesn’t matter if I have studied and am well prepared, or if I decide that I’m just going to wing it. The most important lessons we learn tend to happen when life throws us a curve ball and we are faced with one of those surprise quizzes (also known as Baptism by Fire).

When it comes to the tests we face in life, there are two things to remember: All questions are multiple choice, and, when all else fails, the correct answer is ‘all of the above’. Somewhere, somebody understands what you’re going though, and they’ve come through it and out the other side.

I miss both of my girls.

I really do.

But I’m also smart enough to know and having fun discovering that you can’t miss something or someone if they’re in front of you all the time. You don’t have to leave the nest in order to fly the coop every now and then….

Here’s to all of us empty-nesters who know deep down that the nest isn’t really empty as much as it is ‘selectively occupied on an on-going basis’…

Entry #7 ~ Feathering My Empty Nest...

“Language... has created the word 'loneliness' to express the pain of being alone. And it has created the word 'solitude' to express the glory of being alone.”       Paul Tillich

Four days.

Well, four-and-just-a-little-bit-more days to be slightly less than 100% precise.

It really hasn’t sunk in yet; perhaps it will take a little more time to feel the very real sense that something is missing. They say you can’t miss something (or someone) if they remain in your day-to-day and are in front of you more often than not. She’s been away on trips with her father for longer than this; this week, although feeling melancholy from a more intellectual than emotional perspective, has been rather ‘smooth sailing’.

I’ve been keeping myself occupied with work and domestic goddess duties.

I’ve been spending time riding out on the open road.

I’ve been enjoying not having to build my schedule around anyone else but me.

Yes, I know it’s not going to last forever, but I’m determined not to find myself ugly-face crying in the bathroom mirror at two in the morning and bemoaning the fact that I am ‘all alone’.

It’s not true, you know. That whole ‘empty nest’ pervasive sadness that is often rumoured to linger in the air for days and weeks after the youngest child leaves the nest? I was dreading that particular special brand of parental despair I’d heard so much about over the past several months.

Maybe I’m not doing this whole Empty Nester thing right…

Is it wrong to feel a sense of absolute giddiness and pleasure at the fact that I bought a box of Fruit Loops and am relishing the sheer joy at the thought that I have it all to myself? Fruit Loops! It’s like I can’t wait to go to bed at night because hitting the sheets means I am that much closer to breakfast.

Am I acting just a tad selfish at recognizing that I don’t have to share my car with anyone else and that I can come and go as I please…and that I love it?

I suppose I could be considered just a little odd for liking the fact that I can now walk from the bathroom after my morning shower wrapped in nothing but a goofy smile and not worrying about anyone coming up the stairs and catching me do it.

Sometimes, it’s the little things that can bring on the biggest smiles, but make no mistake, my friends; there’s a lot of little things that are starting to add up and make it painfully obvious to this mother’s heart of mine that a new phase of life has begun…

There’s not 8 pairs of shoes (only two of which would be mine) at the back door anymore.

The house at night is exactly as it was when I left for work in the morning.

My first grocery order for one didn’t include someone else’s favourite cookies or a selection of interesting and odd-looking fruit. 

To be honest, things don’t really feel any different at this end yet. I’m used to having a lot of time to myself, mostly the result of a combination of factors including her work schedule, my time out on the road, and a healthy respect for each other’s privacy.

Things have changed far more for the kidlet (at this point) than they have for me. Her list of adventures and series of ‘firsts’ is far longer than mine. At this stage of the game, my little moments of pleasure are coming from simple things like counting down to the season premiere of Sons of Anarchy and the start of the hockey season. I’m making ‘unplanned plans’ for Thanksgiving weekend and preparing for my first ever Fall Colours Road Trip on my motorcycle.

Motivational speaker and author, Barbara de Angelis, wrote that women need real moments of solitude and self-reflection to balance out how much of ourselves we give away. I suppose she’s right, but much of the joy in my life has been the result of the pouring of my love and affection out into the world and into my two girls. From heading into Hamilton to attend football games to exploring waterfalls to baking up a storm in the kitchen, my girls and I developed into great friends and partners-in-crime. I really don’t see that changing much except for the ‘whats’ and ‘whens’ and ‘hows’ of the situation, and that’s perfectly fine with me. Adventure is created in how you approach life, and twenty-three years of being a parent has taught me that you can pretty much find adventure in anything as long as you retain your sense of humour.

I wish I had something more profound to tell you.

I wish that the changes this week seemed more earth-shattering, more life-altering, more how-am-I-going-to-get-through-this kinds of feelings.

The truth of the matter is that it either hasn’t sunk in yet or things really aren’t all that different.

Maybe it’s because she was really ready to take this leap into the next phase of her life.

Maybe it’s because I was.

She seems to be thriving up there in the wilds of Waterloo.

She seems to be finding a healthy balance between insecurity and independence.

She seems to be missing me and the cat just enough and not too much.

It’s the same at this end.

I guess that means I did my job right.

I guess it also means that she raised me just as much as I raised her.

We’re doing fine, the kidlet n’ me.

We’re finding our way.

We’re looking forward to a ‘mother and child reunion’ in a couple of weeks.

Until then, I’m going to enjoy and celebrate my clean house, my evenings to myself, and my undisturbed, early-morning cup of coffee.

After that? Bring on the chaos and the clutter and a weekend full of laughter and laundry and love.  

This empty nest thing isn’t as bad as I thought it was going to be.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, there’s a bowl of Fruit Loops calling my name…