Just another #MeToo story

Who hasn't seen that one?

My early career was in retail and it was a busy environment. There were so many times I felt uncomfortable about the comments made by the men. We women shrugged it off, said we should be flattered, or felt prude and uncool if we expressed offense.

I was in college at the time and my manager was sitting in the back of the office watching me from behind as I waited on a customer. After the customer left, he asked me if I had been a cheerleader in high school. I was the furthest thing from that, so I looked at him with a baffled expression. He said, I couldn't help but notice how toned and muscular your legs are. I bet you would have been something to watch.

I never wore a skirt to work after that. He even remarked on that. My co-workers used to tease me that they wanted me to wear a skirt again so that he would be in a good mood.

That was only one time I felt uneasy. I had another manager who had the least subtle way in the world of trying to look down my blouse. He was tall and would come and stand next to me while I was doing paperwork, glancing down my shirt.

I talked to a trusted male and he said something like, "It's only harassment if you don't want the attention, so don't dress in a way that asks for attention." Victim blaming at its finest. Especially since what I was wearing was the dress code that the company dictated. Unless I bound my chest or butt, there was no way to conceal what was underneath my clothing.

Over and over, I felt like my appearance and not my professionalism was how I was evaluated at work. At one point, someone higher up invited me to lunch to discuss a possible promotion. He tried to kiss me at the end of the lunch and I awkwardly turned it into a very weird hug. He called me the next day and asked if I would be interested in attending an out of town conference that would offer some good networking opportunities for me. The whole incident made my skin crawl. But I never said anything. (I didn't go to the conference, either).

Shortly after that, I became pregnant with our first child. I thought long and hard about whether I wanted to continue working and truthfully, I think part of the reason I walked away was that I didn't think my career would go forward if I wasn't willing to be a plaything.

Fast forward to middle age, restless housewife. I've reached the point in my life that I am more or less invisible. At 51 and a little chubby, I don't get cat-calls and I don't worry that I'm only getting noticed because I have cleavage or nice legs. And that feels a little weird, too, if I'm being honest.

What makes me even happier? My oldest is now a college graduate. She experienced a "MeToo" moment and was outraged. OUTRAGED! I was so proud of her for not being confused or thinking she had done something wrong.

Progress, albeit slow, but progress.

Women, speak up.

Capsule Wardrobe for 10 Days in the Winter

Our family is spending time away this winter. We will be reuniting with Baby Bird #1 as she finishes her final study abroad program in Europe. She has been there four months. We organized a family trip as a final send off to the exciting new world awaiting her.

We typically travel in the summer so room for clothing hasn't ever been much of an issue. Shorts and sandals take up a lot less room than sweaters and boots. I've done some traveling and have compiled several tips, but this was a new challenge for me.

I want to leave a lot of room in my suitcase for whatever items my daughter has accumulated in her four months as well as picking up souvenirs. (Tip: Take a larger suitcase than you need and fill the empty space with bubble wrap for any delicate souvenirs you may pick up). Additionally, I am pretty stringent about not exceeding the airline weight limit of 50 pounds for two reasons. Who wants to lug a heavy bag around and who wants to pay that extra fee? Not I, said the Mama Hen.

I've got myself organized. I researched quite a bit and realized that my staple wardrobe of blacks and tans will work quite well. I did have to pick up a few items to round out my capsule, but in the interest of saving money, I shopped Swap.com to find secondhand items. I love shopping Swap because it's easy to filter size, brand, and item of clothing and the selection is huge. The link I've added contains a referral code and you will save 20% off your first purchase. I also purchased one of my items from a local friend's boutique, Shop Stevie. Versatile & comfortable clothing.

I've stuck to neutral colors, with a smattering of patterns, and a few colorful pieces for some pizzazz. I also will be swapping out statement accessories to mix it up. Essentially, I have 3 slacks, 5 tops, 5 vests/cardigans/blazers, and 2 scarves.

Without further ado, this is what I'm packing for our 10 day trip. Want to see how I'm going to dress differently each day?

Itemized clothing list: (see captions for what is mixed and matched)

1. White long sleeved t-shirt
2. Cream long sleeved t-shirt
3. Heather grey turtleneck sweater
4. Black sleeveless t-shirt
5. Black & white striped t-shirt
6. Silk blouse in muted tans & greys
7. Black pull on slacks
8. Tan pull on slacks
9. Black & white herringbone patterned leggings
10. Tan & black blazer
11. Black sweater vest
12. Red cardigan
13. Grey draped cardigan
14. Tan draped cardigan
15. Black & blush patterned infinity scarf
16. Turquoise fringed wrap scarf

l to r, (3, 11, 9 and 10, 4, 7)

l to r, (2, 12, 8) (6, 14, 8) (9, 13, 1) (5, 12, 7)

l to r, (1, 16, 9) (3, 7) (2, 10, 8)  (4, 7, 13, 15)

I also have a few wild card items not shown:  a knit dress that rolls to nothing, pajamas, a swim suit for the hotel, shoes (short black boots and a pair of hiking shoes), socks, and undergarments. I am also bringing a set of long johns for layers on cold days and a roll up puffer jacket. I will follow up with a photo of my fully packed suitcase before we leave. 

Can you think of other ideas to mix 'n' match? Maybe I'll stay longer! 

Turns out...

Life is what happens when you're busy making other plans. ~John Lennon

Last August, I began a noble journey of "getting used to the empty nest". It was to be a weekly digest of how I was feeling each week I didn't have a child at home.

I diligently blogged each week and reached the end of my prescribed time frame. I had a tidy outline of 18 weeks to correspond with 18 years. At the end of 2016, I wrapped up my blog series and set about the book process. I interviewed experts and specialists.  I talked to beta-readers, I solicited feedback, I had a publisher lined up, I was ready to market, and then...

I stopped.

I didn't do a thing. Not a single thing.

I took my notes and curled them into a makeshift telescope, peering into the unknown.

You see, I wasn't nearly as "ready" as I told myself I would be.

I had a lot of things I was still working through. That is the beauty of growth. You don't get to anticipate the changes. They just appear to you.

A year later, I am pondering all the changes the universe put in my path. Adjusting my perspective and trying to make peace with the phrase,  "Be Careful What You Wish For". I actually did find a job. I am working with children non-stop and all the minutiae that accompanies it. I am picking up, cleaning up, straightening up, up, up, up up it seems, as I keep a space tidy for their consumption.

I reflect on the things I was truly missing because surely I wasn't missing the continual stage setting and straightening for children to discover. I just finished 20 some years of that. This forces me to dig deeper and figure out what really is happening.

It's about the passing of time. When your children are home, you are so busy with them that everything seems to swoosh by with a barely imperceptible breeze. And yet, in the midst of that immersion, nothing stops.

I think the empty nest syndrome, while part of the mourning of a sense of purpose, is also about the reckoning of time that flew by. Somewhere in the past 20 years, seemingly insurmountable losses have piled up. In my own universe, I lost grandparents, aunts, uncles, friends, and parents. The gradual nature that such losses accrue hits like a sledgehammer upon reflection.

I've found myself remembering almost as often as I breathe, with a borderline irrational fear that if I stop remembering, it will no longer exist. I don't want to forget all the beautiful people who went before me, I don't want to forget the people who touched my world. I dread the memory fade of things that impacted me.

It's a delicate balance of remembering the past, staying in the present, and anticipating the future. I'm discovering that during the year-long breathing process.

Area 51-- the Empty Nest series continues

It seems apropos that on the day I end my 51st trip around the sun, I post about the theorized site of aliens visiting Earth. The previous year of my life certainly has had moments of other-worldliness. I've felt like an alien in the story of my own life as I've adjusted to several rapid fire changes that seemed to have crashed into my world like a comet.

Today, I revisit the story I began to write a year ago about surviving the empty nest and finding myself again.  It's been a year of searching and self-reflection, a year of discovery. Something I realized in this past year as I've slowly shed the pounds I picked up in middle age is that I've begun to shed some of the emotional baggage and angst as well.

A year ago today, I was wringing every last ounce of emotion out of feeling so lost and confused. My menopausal, empty-nest, lost-a-parent, just-was-invited-to-the-AARP self was in a tailspin. I blogged each week through the end of the year with the intent of turning those 18 weeks of reflection into a book.

I set out a timetable to deal with everything and set about it with utmost efficiency. But I was rushing myself and the process, and I hit a wall. I decided to set everything aside and just let it age gracefully. 

I wasn't done telling the story or discovering who I am. I wasn't quite ready to look past my empty nest. I thought about who I am and what I need to feel fulfilled. Now I'm ready to explore more about surviving the empty nest, because I indulged myself with the gift of reflection and time.

As I glance out my window at the changing leaves, through the bouquet of flowers, I realize I'm ready for change, too.

Stay tuned as we continue the journey together.

Ask me anything

One of the ways I fill my time as a freelance writer and lover of children is by substitute teaching. When my client load is low or my need to be surrounded by sticky little hands  and whiny voices is untapped, I accept opportunities to substitute teach.

I jest a little. I thrive on being around children and feed off their energy and curiosity. My imagination runs wild as I glimpse faces from the past. There is a little boy who could be a dead ringer for my now 19 year old daughter's second grade best friend. There is another little boy who could be my little nephew. I see these faces and smile thinking of young friends I adored from a different time and place.

Inevitably, at the end of the day, we've done all our work and there is time, usually only about 5-10 minutes, because I'm pretty good at sticking to and following the schedule. That 5-10 minutes can seem endless if you aren't ready for it.

Additionally, as a substitute teacher, you don't even know their regular routine or where the teacher keeps the "bag o' tricks" for those down times. It's okay. John Berryman once wrote a quote that has become a lifetime mantra, "Ever to confess you're bored is to confess to no inner resources."

That quote reminds me to dig deep. When I encounter that dead zone of what the heck do I do now, I fall back on a game called "Ask Me Anything". The students must raise their hands and they are allowed to ask me anything they want. Because I teach elementary school, I'm not too concerned that I won't have an answer, or at least be able to make them laugh if I don't.

Typical questions include:

• Do you have kids? (yes)
• How many? (2)
• Girls or boys? (both girls)
• Do you have a dog? (yes)
• What is your favorite kind of ice cream? (vanilla)
• How old are you? (50)
• Where do babies come from? (their parents)

So it goes. "Ask Me Anything" usually fills the rest of the time and keeps the kids engaged.

Sometimes, however, I get a monkey wrench, typically with the follow-up question.

Isn't it rude that someone asked your age? (No, I invited the question).
How do the parents get the babies? (That's a question for a scientist).
What if they didn't have vanilla ice cream? (I'd probably order coffee with chocolate chips)
Do you like cats? (the hardest one of all, because I don't usually, but meet exceptions on a regular basis).

The ask me anything game is sort of indulgent for me as well because I get to assuage my ego that "I know everything". Then came the time the game got the best of me. As we were filing to leave for the day, a young girl with a twinkle in her eye asked me, "Do you teach all the subjects?" (yes). She smirked and said, "Well that means you teach science, so you can tell us how the parents get the babies."

Just then the bell rung and the bedlam of getting the bus ensued.

I learned the meaning of saved by the bell.

But in the spirit of the game, I now invite my readers... "Ask Me Anything".
I might even answer.

First Day of School/Spring

It is only apropos that I find myself composing today's post on the first day of Spring. I have filled so many of my days with obligations that I hadn't been able to accept many substitute teaching jobs. In fact, the last time I was called and could accept was back in September.

But last night, around 9 PM, my phone rang and I was asked if I could teach today. I hesitated for a moment, as I was supposed to meet a friend for lunch, but I also knew that my friend would understand and we could reschedule. I was giddy as I said yes, I would be there, knowing that I would spend my day with a roomful of young people.

I am not sure how I can describe how much I love being in schools. I suppose you could call me a teacher groupie. I haven't gone through the work to be one, but I cannot really picture myself doing anything else. While I do not have a teaching degree, instead I fill my days with ways to be around young people. I am a confirmation sponsor at my church, I volunteer teach for Junior Achievement, and I coach speech and debate for a local high school. Oh, and I also babysit for my neighbors 2 mornings/week.

In other words, if there is anyone in the world who loves being around young people, it is me. Heck my own college daughter said in a quiz about how well she knows her mom, that my favorite thing is to talk with young people.

So today, knowing I was subbing all day, I sprung out of bed at 5:30 AM. My husband was teasing me, said, First day of school? At 50 years old, I blushed and then nodded knowingly, yes, I was going to school for the day.

I am not sure I can appropriately explain how magical a school building is to me. It's just this place of wonder and amazement. I walk in and see so much promise. I'm surrounded with potential. I am enveloped with hope. It is a beautiful thing. Lesson plans, students, notebooks, minds, oh those minds! Such gorgeous vessels waiting to be filled!

I am realistic. I'm a substitute teacher. I'm just a place holder who comes in and imparts a little knowledge that their regular teacher has set in place.  What I do believe though is that a good substitute can bring a new energy and enthusiasm to a classroom -- a fresh face, and different perspective. There was a young man in the front of my classroom today who announced how he was in a bad mood and that I shouldn't expect anything from him.

I looked at him and firmly said, "I expect you to do your work, because a job has nothing to do with your mood." The rest of the classroom piped in and quickly informed me that the regular teacher always makes him do stuff, even when he doesn't want to. I quickly discerned that there was more going on with this student. I think that is what a good sub does -- read the situation and adapt.

By the end of the day, he was smiling and fist bumped him for getting rid of his bad mood. Oh yeah, and he did the work he was supposed to do. I call that a winning day.

Here they are, there they go: Week 18 (final installment)

The holidays got in the way of wrapping up my empty nest series. We were traveling out and folks were traveling in, our kids came home, we hosted a family get-together, we attended several family get-togethers. We need a holiday from our holiday. 

As the dust settles on the holiday season for 2016, I have some time for reflection and offer some realistic observations. The past two weeks were a prospecting mission to foresee what future interactions between adult family members will be like.

What strikes me most profoundly is the complete lack of homogeneity, and yet, we are united by blood. Each member of our family is different and unique and at no time was that more apparent than when we were all gathered in the same space.

We saw cousins that we don't often see, and realized that as the family grows, our time commitments get more thin. We pledged to do better at keeping in touch and crossed our fingers that we make it a priority. 

The greater extrapolation of an empty nest is the realization that we had several generations of families who have all experienced children becoming adults at one time or another. Yet, we still gather and enjoy spending time together. I suspect that is the truest glimpse of the future.  Years ago, my siblings and I left our family nests.  We still congregate with each other when we can and appreciate the family time. 

We hosted mom at our house and realized now it’s our turn to take care of things for her when she’s in our home. We stocked up on her favorite coffee, put extra blankets in the room, set out favorite family photos. We want to make her feel at home with the same graciousness we feel when we visit her home. 

The difference when we visit our childhood home is a built in sense of familiarity. My brother found the spot on the wall that he etched his undying devotion to a grade school crush. We walked around marveling how much smaller it seems today than when we were kids. We were threatened with punishment if we opened a door to a messy room. Though we laughed, we realized that mom's “Board of Education” still stings in our minds if not on our behinds. 

We surrounded ourselves with touchstones to the past, made memories of the present, and looked forward to the future. And that is the note to close this series. I'm looking forward to the future. 

This 18 post series will be expanded upon and compiled into a book. 

Projected availability is July 2017. 

You don't know me: Week 17

Here I am, reflecting on another week of pretend empty nest. Because at the particular moment of this writing, it's full. Plus one.

What I realize is the new normal, otherwise known as reality, is here to stay. From here on out, it will be coming and going, cars starting and stopping and parking. The door will revolve, and we will get glimpses of updates. At some point, we parents will no longer know who they hang out with or how often or what they do when they hang out.

That's normal and good.

I spent a day with my mom yesterday and I see the generational parallel. I told her about the lives of the people she knows are my life long best friends and realize, it's conversation fodder. It's how we touch base. My relationship with my children is approaching that place.

My oldest child's beau is visiting us. They met last summer while she was interning and have kept in touch long distance. He seems really nice though I think I made him uneasy with my questions. At least he was polite and answered each one. I kept apologizing for being nosy. But the fact remains, we no longer will have that built-in framework of familiarity. We do not have any common ground other than the one person we know in common, my child, Period.

Admittedly, it is a bit disconcerting to realize that I no longer bond with our children and their friends over a common teacher, town event, or local story. Their worlds grow when we aren't looking. They grow beyond what I know or relate to and that is okay.

I don't know who all mom's friends are, nor does mom know all mine. The torch passes on. I don't know who all our kids' friends are, and likewise for them. Each story about someone else begins with some sort of explanation who this person we are talking about is and why they are in our lives.

When we start out as parents, our goal is to raise independent strong young people for the future. When it happens, it's a little unsettling, because it's hard to realize we achieved exactly what we set out to do. While it was the plan, it was going to happen regardless of any level of intervention on our part.

I think one of the difficult parts is that nobody throws us a shower or celebration. When we embark on this journey, we are literally showered with presents and cards of congratulation, and yet, upon retirement, it just fades. You want to holler, "Hey! All of you who loved that lump of wiggly baby in my arms? Yeah, you! I did it! We did it! That baby grew up and look-ee here! We got ourselves a co-ed!" Where is my party?

It doesn't work that way. Instead, we swirl away from the familiar world of over 18+ years raising young people.  We don't know where they are going and we somehow have to trust them, as well as ourselves. We have to trust that we did our best and so will they.

Stay tuned next week for my last installment. And stay tuned longer for my journey to book.

Nothing is the same, nor should it be: Week 16

As the month of December unfolds, I'm approaching the end of my self-chosen 18 week commitment to process and understand the dynamics of my empty nest. Back in August when I first began the series, the plan was to live-blog each week, chronicling my emotional and intellectual learning curve as I was experiencing it.

This past weekend, I picked my younger child up from college in Chicago. I drove in a day early with a neighbor friend and we had a mini-shopping girl's getaway planned. We briefly saw my baby bird to have some lunch and then went and checked into our hotel room. We spent the afternoon checking out some Chicago shopping destinations, had a nice dinner, hit the sack and got ready to bring two young co-eds home. (Another young person from our town attends the same university so we share rides to and from school with her parents).

Anyway, that little scenario led me to the realization of how little of my December is the same as in years past. It was a gradual process, but it hit me like a ton of bricks when I was shopping with my neighbor who still has younger children who still have child expectations of Christmas, including Santa and lots of magic and gifts.

Christmas over the past few years has taken a decidedly less magical and much more realistic turn. I'm okay with that. My children were too old when the Elf on the Shelf "magic" became another thing to do over the holidays. Thank goodness.

Yet, I do recall the year that our dog was a new puppy and the children were nervous that he would scare Santa away from coming, so they asked to bring his crate upstairs to their bedroom. Then, when they couldn't decide whose room to put the cage into, they decided to share a bed. That was magic I'll cherish forever. The sight of my little angels sleeping next to each other on Christmas Eve, making sure Santa would still visit, will never be forgotten.

While I miss the visits to Santa, I honestly don't miss the built up deception and the impression that "Santa can do anything". My children haven't quite forgiven me, but literally the minute they were old enough to question Santa, I came clean. I am terrible at sugarcoating and not so good at lying either, so it was a huge relief to just say, "I'm Santa". Okay, I wasn't quite so blunt, I think I said something like "Once upon a time there was a very kind and generous man who loved making children happy. His name was Santa Claus and he was so inspirational that parents have taken on his traditions over the years and kept his spirit alive, and now that you know, you will want to keep his traditions alive for the younger children." Honestly, I never cared for the commercial bend that Christmas took.

Before I sound like an insufferable Scrooge, I love the family get-togethers, the parties, the baking, and the decorations. I love putting up a tree and reliving a lifetime of memories with each ornament I hang. But some of that has changed as well. Concurrent with children growing up and getting older is that the generation older than myself starts to shrink. The losses of patriarchs and matriarchs has all begun to happen over the past several years and life needs to take a new turn to compensate.

This year, I found myself especially nostalgic and I think my emotions were a mélange of events, but I fondly remembered not only the handprints my children made, but the crocheted snowflakes my grandmother made, the Shiny-Brites like the one my husband's grandparents hung on the tree. I recognized that nothing will ever be like that again. We will never pack ourselves into my grandparent's living room again, nor will we stay up half the night smuggling gifts out of hiding places, waiting until the children fell asleep to take bites out of cookies on the plate and stage a Christmas visit from Santa for the break of dawn.

Instead, we get the magic of well-educated young people. I get to talk to my younger daughter about literature and philosophy and sharpen my thinking skills. I get to arrange the meeting of my older daughter's beau for the first time. I don't intend to pressure or embarrass her, but honestly, whenever I meet someone she is dating, I always approach such meetings wondering if this is a person who will eventually become a member of the family. That's exciting!

Last week, my spouse and I had a date. We went to a Christmas ale blind tasting and didn't have to worry about getting home for the kids. It's something we'd never have even considered when they still lived at home.

Those are just a few slices of the ways life will never be the same. And I am so glad it's not.

You ought to admire each other: Week 15

Now we're approaching winter break, I'll be bringing my younger daughter home for the rest of the month this Saturday. The older one will be home a week later and our nest will be full again. Additionally, we have family flying into town this year between Christmas and New Year's which means the house will be bustling with good will and cheer.

Something has happened in the past week that just really struck me, and it transcends the typical proud parent role that we cast ourselves into. Even when we don't always like each other, I've realized how deeply I admire my children and their peers. I admire the people they became.

There is so much negativity floating around about those spoiled millennials that I want to depart slightly from my personal empty nest journey and talk instead about the things I'm learning from this generation.

*First of all, our generation raised them. Yep, we're the ones who decided that they should all get trophies, we're the ones who let that attitude of everyone gets a prize sink in. But you know what? They see through it. They still know who is the best and they still have a work ethic. We didn't fool them with piles of cheap plastic awards and hollow accolades. We need to own our role in that impression. We left them a pile of trophies and overpriced tuition.

*Secondly, we may have stopped asking them to do chores or get part time jobs, but we started to expect them to be "well-rounded". We threw every possible activity to do in their direction, beginning with pre-school play groups and ending with things to put on your college application. Seriously? Our generation maybe did one activity, sports or music, or maybe something with our church group. But we didn't do all of it nor was it expected of us. The pressure we've placed on our next generation is astounding. And they have risen to the occasion. The book "Busier Than Ever!" is an excellent read why this isn't such a bad phenomenon.

*Third, they love their elders. They ask us for guidance and respect what we suggest. Nowhere has this been more evident than in the past presidential election, when their most popular candidate was
the "grandpa who gets them", an unlikely 74 year old man who paid attention to their concerns, Bernie Sanders. Now, this is not to suggest that we should adopt the political platform of Senator Sanders, at least not in its entirety. It does mean that if we take time to listen to their concerns, they will take time to heed our advice.

Enough of this "Them vs. Us". They are our children and we taught them everything they know. We have a duty and obligation as the people who pass the baton to them to pay attention instead of dismiss. We are required to care about what affects them. I admire them and I look forward to the day they have to take care of me, because I believe the future is in good hands. It's time for all of us to believe it.

You won't always like each other: Week 14

Just like that - the honeymoon is over. Well, not really, but it's time for a reality check. I spent months waiting to have the whole family under the roof and it was fantastic for at least 25 minutes. Then things got real.

Now, this is not to say I didn't love having my children nearby and didn't cherish every second. Rather, I'd like to say that going off to college doesn't make all those little personality nuances disappear or even fade. In fact, they seemed to come back stronger than ever. I'm still inclined to smother, one daughter is inclined to retreat to silence, the other inclined to know everything, and my long suffering spouse is inclined to immerse himself in busy-work to avoid the unending barrage of estrogen that suffocates him.

Suddenly, a swath of destruction and mess wove its way through the entire house. There were shoes where there had been none, jackets and sweaters strewn on chairs, empty glasses that never even got filled, a bathroom counter filled with toiletries. The invasion had begun.

The food got eaten, the dishes got dirty, and the house was in an unending state of disarray. And all that was good. The house bustled with energy.

Other aspects of the weekend? Not so much. For example, for several years now, I have not lived down the purchase of a brand of toilet paper on sale that wound up being scratchier than sandpaper, because I insisted we use it up. That was the break my daughter looked forward to going back to the dorm, because the toilet paper there was better. Apparently, my acumen for a bargain completely ruined what we had coined "the home field advantage". When I made sure I didn't purchase that toilet paper this time, jokes were made about who was the favorite child and that sort.

Scratchy or not, it got used.

Sometimes I just want to sue Norman Rockwell for false impersonation of the American Family Life. Because nothing in my mind matched the reality. We settled down for a friendly game of cards and a joke was cracked and within an instant one family member called another family member an a**hole. Yeah. Nothing Norman Rockwell about that. Although, in retrospect, at least it was a comfortable a**hole, due to the upgrade in the toilet paper that wiped it.

The weekend came and went without any notable event, food was eaten and enjoyed, laundry was washed and folded, friends and family came and went. Before we knew it, it was time to load the car back up for a trip that began at 7 AM and circled back until nearly 8 PM. Our chicks were back in their nests.

Now the mess is cleaned up and the house echoes somewhat forlornly with tidiness. No random dishes, no scattered shoes, no a**holes to be found.

For at least another two weeks.

Rewind - a weekend at home: Week 13

Here we are. Just before the Thanksgiving celebration, and I'm literally counting down the hours. I cannot wait for both my kids to come home, to be under my roof, to celebrate the holiday.

I think I was fair, I understand they want to see their friends, and honestly, social media makes it so easy to stay in touch, I am not desperate for face to face interaction.

Yet, knowing that at the end of those days they are here? They will be safely tucked under our roof? That I can peek at them sleeping, that I can delude myself into believing that the world will never hurt them. That I can protect them.

I'm all in.

It's a throwback. It's one I'm fairly certain we all are excited about. I know that when I was in college, going home always meant someone else took care of me. Interestingly, I've discovered that sometimes going home means you take care of someone, at least as you get older, but that's a different life phase, one not part of this series.

It's Thanksgiving. They are home, and I am thankful. (so are they).

(and I got so busy that I never published this post -- but I wrote it before the weekend).

Wow, I went all week without being sad! Week 12

This week's post is a bit of a reflection, because I got way behind and lost my goal of wringing out every ounce of emotion as I processed my empty nest.

While managing the empty nest is not always going to be linear, I realize that I finally am moving forward. I desperately scheduled dozens of things to artificially stay busy back in Week Four, and those things came to fruition lately. But they didn't feel contrived, they felt normal. They felt like an answer to "this is how I spend my time." 

In keeping with my goal of losing weight (who doesn't have that goal on a regular basis, just curious?), I have been avidly walking my dog. There is a bit of a second tier motivation as well. Our family dog is now almost 12. Last winter was rough for him & he was diagnosed with degenerative myelopathy. Selfishly, I cannot bear to lose my canine friend at the same time I'm getting used to an empty nest. In order to keep him nimble and strong, I'm walking him like crazy.

Additionally, I took up a job as a mystery shopper. It's all self assigned, and it gives me a regular reason to get out of the house. I look at cars, dine at casual restaurants (and get to treat friends to lunch!), and visit retail establishments. It fills in the time when I'm not writing for a client or waiting to hear back from a freelance inquiry. Oh, I also get to write reports and share my opinion. Win/win.

Lastly, I was recruited to coach speech for a local high school (not one my children attended). I am able to spend time with teenagers a few hours a week and dispense all sorts of ideas and advice. My mom gene is fulfilled.

All these personal tasks I've taken on have filled my time perhaps to a fault. I have been busy! I like it. I'm not having meltdowns because I have nothing to do, and my time is spent purposefully. I'm helping my pet, general consumers, and other teenagers.

I'm happy. This is the point of this Week 12's belated post. Make life happen instead of waiting for it to happen to you. Enjoy what you can put on your plate instead of standing there waiting for a plate to fill itself.

My plate is full. And so is my heart.

Navigating those waters between adult and child: Week 11

This week, I learned how very difficult it is to redefine that new relationship between yourself and your child who is now an adult.

It became patently clear one night when my child who lives pretty close to home (but still on campus) came home for a mental health break. The first day, I pretty much parented. I did laundry and made food. It was task oriented and fulfilling. Then the wheels came off. The following day was still stressful. Our child contacted us and said that she needed a day away from campus. She came home and tried to tell me about all the stress she is under as she tries to figure out what is the best move forward.

Now, recognizing that my (s)mothering hadn't magically fixed everything the day before, I went into hyper-adult mode, but still didn't leave the mother side behind. I figured that some brutal honesty, adult stories would be useful. They didn't particularly pertain to my daughter's dilemma and stress, but in my grasp to be helpful, I thought that some stories from my lifetime of experience would help her find some perspective. I couldn't have been more wrong. It was the last thing in the world she wanted to hear and she made sure I knew that. With silence.

I screwed up because sometimes there just isn't a magical mom answer. There isn't a way to fix things the way we kiss a boo boo or snuggle under a blanket. Life is hard and it won't get easier for our young birdies who are flying the nest.

And that's how it goes.  We are going to redefine our roles as each milestone happens. The fact is that my children are going to face things that I never faced, partially because they are different people, and partially because this is a different time. My advice and experience will only go so far, and what I've realized is that now, when they come to me for advice, I'm not nearly as qualified to give it as I was 10 years ago. Or even five.

Learning what our roles are as parents when are children are adults is no easier than trying to figure out how to transition from adult to parent. It's a life milestone that is only mastered with experience. I recently told a 13 year old girl I know to be kind to her parents, they've never had a teenage daughter before and everything is just as new to them as it is to her.

Now I need an adult to tell me the same thing. I never had an adult child before and I'm figuring it out as I go along. You will, too.
             

We're all adults here: Week Ten

Over the past several months, and even years, since our firstborn went to college, we have seen the gradual shift in our relationships. It took longer with the oldest, probably because we had never done it before, so it took us more time to concede that indeed she was an adult.

Today, our visits and conversations are about adult issues. It really hit home when we found ourselves encouraging our younger daughter to go to a frat party. All the years we spent discouraging her participation in any party that would involve underage consumption of alcohol flipped. Having raised a responsible young woman, we knew that at least by attending a party, she would see what she was missing.

The next morning, she gleefully called us hangover-free to tell us how much fun she had playing beer-pong, but with water shots.

Their lives are moving at an adult speed. Our oldest is at an out of town conference and messaged us that she has an interview with a well-known company, She drove her own car there across another state. She has taken several long road trips, solo, back and forth to internships, grad expos, and now this conference. The younger one is enjoying living in a city, taking the train to different parts of town, all without having to check in with her parents or abide by a curfew. She is going to the store to pick up her favorite snacks all by herself and even considering staying on campus for summer classes.

Our conversations are now on equal footing. We still are helping out with the bills, but more often than not, they are managing their day to day finances, their schedules and their lives. Which means when we communicate, it reflects their complete independence. Not to say there aren't times they call and ask for advice or encouragement. And we've spent the World Series texting back and forth throughout the game. You know, like a couple of buddies would do. We spent many years reminding ourselves that "We are your parents, not your friends", and now we can finally say, "Hey, let's be friends, too!"

I reflected back on that critical shift with my own parents, when I became an adult in their eyes. For me, it was probably when I got my first apartment and was living off campus. Suddenly, I had a place I could entertain my folks. I could have them over for lunch or dinner. I still had a lot of growing up to do, but I knew that I was managing life on my own terms.

It's funny today, but because dreams are such a jumble of our subconscious, whenever I have a dream about an adult sort of decision, the location is still in my first apartment. I can still mentally walk through that space with photographic memory accuracy. As I remember the pride I felt the first time my parents treated me like an adult, I wish the same joy for my children.

Because now, they are adults. I really am glad they are also my friends. 

They Miss You, Too! Week Nine

I am halfway through my 18 week journey. Part of this live blogging strategy is that I intend to blog each week until the end of the year and then take those instant, week-by-week, reactions and turn them into logical chapters in a book. Capturing each week as it unfolds lends a sense of timely authenticity.

This past weekend was Parent's Weekend at my younger daughter's school. She attends school 400 miles away (versus 8 miles for daughter #1). We haven't seen her since August 13th. For those of you counting, that was 63 days/nine weeks. It was longer than when her sister went overseas for a summer study abroad.

With my older daughter spending the weekend dog-sitting for us, we headed west.

We didn't really care about the family picnics or the mixers, we just wanted to see our child. We left at the crack of dawn on Saturday and drove 6 hours until we arrived on her campus. She told us she had to work until 1:00 in the afternoon and so with accounting for the time difference, we had time to stop for lunch. An interesting side note is that the owner of our now favorite burger joint remembered us from both orientation and then move-in weekend. Made us feel practically local!

With full bellies and a care package in the trunk, we parked on campus to wait. Nervously pacing the last 15 minutes, anxiously awaiting the chance to see our girl, finally she spotted us from across the street and sprinted to us. Straight out of a movie, the hugs and joy and tears were obvious. She looks great and so so happy.

The rest of the day, we tagged along with her as she fulfilled some obligations. She was volunteering at a St. Baldrick's fundraiser and we met person after person that she has become friends with.

My mind raced backwards to all the reasons I was happy to leave high school behind. My daughter has blossomed into "the happiest person ever" (as the clerk who checks her into her dorm calls her). She found a perfect fit for her future. Yet, amidst all that newfound joy? She still loves the not so distant past pieces of home. She was delighted that we brought flowers from my garden and pints from the local ice cream store. She misses our park and our dog. In other words, home has not been abandoned.

What I realized this past week is that while your children are growing and moving forward, that we have to remember how much of home they still carry with them.

On our drive home, we touched base with our older child to see how everything had gone. Because she lives on campus so close to home, she asked, "Do you mind if I just stay here again tonight?" I practically yelled, "OF COURSE NOT! MIND??? This is your home!" She gently reminded us that as a college senior, she is making that transition to full independence and she recognizes that while this is our home, she is now a guest.

I thought about it and of course, yes, we no longer stock the refrigerator with their favorite foods if it's not something we eat. We don't have their activities on our calendar, and honestly, I'm considering alternative uses for their bedrooms. Life is in flux and we are moving forward as much as they are.

I remember one Christmas when I was in college, I picked up a kitschy little country-decor picture of a house and it had some cliche' saying in calligraphy writing about loving home. But I added my own words to the bottom of the picture. I wrote, "I'll never stop coming home." Now I understand on the other end of it.

No, I didn't, and neither will they.

Sleep, Glorious Sleep: Week Eight

In 1995, I gave up on the idea that I would ever have a decent night's sleep again. From pregnancy-bladder wake-up calls, to a newborn needing to nurse, to a toddler having a nightmare, the pattern for sleeplessness was set early in my motherhood career.

After the children were sleeping through the night, I began to value my late nights as "me time". Previously, I had never been a night owl yet I found myself staying up until midnight or even later, just so I could have time when someone wasn't asking me to do something for them. I would call other late night friends or chat on the computer or even just watch videos, just to carve out solo time.

I became friends with another neighborhood mom and the minute our kids were in bed, we would alternate houses and meet for a glass of wine, toasting another successful day of mothering. It was our way of pretending we could still go out like we did before we were mothers. We found ourselves substituting wine for sleep, which isn't exactly the healthiest decision.

The sleep deprivation did not end when my children reached high school. In fact, their own late night activities, be it school or social related, kept me up, waiting to make sure they arrived home safely -- only to turn around and wake up first thing in the morning to do it all over again.

For 21 years, sleep had become so rare to me that a good night's sleep was cause for jubilant celebration. The first time it happened in the past eight weeks, that was exactly my reaction, jubilation. I had come to expect a poor night's sleep as the norm. The gradual acceptance that I did not have to spring out of bed to get the day going, nor did I have to stay up half the night to make sure I had some solo time has been a delightful side effect of the empty nest.

After our trip last week, I came home not only jet-lagged, but also with a terrible cold and fever. So I babied myself. I slept and napped, I went to bed early, and stayed in bed late. I didn't have to soldier through being sick as I had in the past. Also, did you ever notice that your colds would linger for weeks upon weeks? This time, I succumbed to feeling sick and have really rested.

It feels so luxurious to give myself time to feel better, something I had not allowed myself to do in over two decades. Oh how mothers are masters of dispensing advice we don't follow! I always made my children rest when they were sick, but never did the same for myself. I used to let my kids sleep in late knowing how critical sleep was, but somehow thought myself immune from that need.

The lesson for week eight has been a valuable one. I've been getting plenty of Vitamin B-E-D. I still have someone to mother and that is myself.

Change the Scenery: Week Seven

photo by: Kim Urig 2016

For as much as I had to write in week five, I didn't post at all last week, primarily because we were on a vacation. Which leads me to what I recommend from a firsthand experience. Plan a trip. Get out of Dodge. See something new.

For the first time in however many years, you don't have to worry about who is going to watch the kids or what you would actually miss if you went away. Your children are going forward with their lives and it's your turn also. They aren't the only ones who are now independent.

If you are worried how in the world to juggle tuition payments as well as a trip, it doesn't have to be an exotic trip, but it needs to be a change of scenery. I found myself watching all the fall school activities my friends were posting about and swirling deeper and deeper into a sense of longing and loss.

Walking away from everything that had kept my life so busy a year ago and filling it with something so different than my regular grind was exactly what the empty nest ordered. In our case, we took a river cruise in France along the Seine River. This isn't meant to be a vacation showcase article, but rather a suggestion why getting away was such a mental health break.

My husband and I had been planning a big trip for our 25th wedding anniversary, which was last year. We delayed it a year because it was our daughter's senior year. While our trip was rather grand, the bigger takeaway is that the change of scenery was really what helped reset my emotional state.  We had limited internet access, we were in a different place, and were interacting with different people.

On our trip we met several other couples, many of them retirees, who upon finding out our last child had just gone to college were practically high-fiving us and saying "empty nest is best!" It certainly wasn't what we thought we'd hear, but truthfully, it helped us get some perspective. All last week, we socialized with new friends in different stages of life and remembered that this is only one of several more stages to explore as we age.

Here are some ideas for a trip regardless of what your budget may be:

• Explore local hiking or biking trails. Getting the adrenaline pumping out in the fresh air is an incredible rush and you'll slow down and see things from a much different view than the typical mom taxi view. 
• Plan a weekend at a bed and breakfast or look into weekend specials at state park lodges. Go somewhere that you won't get news from home unless you really work at it. 
• Visit a friend you have been meaning to catch up with for ages but couldn't make time.
• Go camping. Fall rates are very reasonable and the weather is still temperate. You can find nice cabins if you'd rather not completely rough it, but getting outdoors and unplugging from reminders is incredibly soothing.
• If budget isn't a consideration, consider planning a trip to somewhere you've never gone. Don't go back to a family vacation destination, which will only make you nostalgic, but instead, visit a new place, plan a dream trip. Start planning it while your child is still home so when that one month itch is really getting to you, you already have the time away planned. 

Over the last week, my husband and I hiked and biked across the French countryside, we drifted along the Seine River, reverently explored the D-Day shores of Normandy, and made new friends. I returned, jet-lagged, but with a completely new outlook and energy.

Letting it all hang out: Last installment for Week Five

Yesterday I had, to borrow from the children's book, a Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day. I was at my wit's end with a wave of emotion that had been building for two days. I couldn't snap out of my mood and just kept crying. 

I thought about my idea for live blogging and wrote out everything I was feeling. By openly discussing what I am feeling when I'm feeling it, the framework for the book becomes more honest and organic. This is how I felt, with no apologies. 

The mood passed and if I can offer any advice to people experiencing these moods, reach out to people. Talk about it, write about it, ask for help. I did and wow, I sure received it! So many notes of friendship and encouragement. I'm incredibly blessed with fantastic people in my world.

Without further ado, I present my emotional breakdown. 

I’m so tired. I just am not sure I can do this. I don’t know what to do with my days when someone else hasn’t planned them for me. And that down time is horrible. I spin my wheels trying to find new ways to fill my time.

I’m lonely. I wish I had a job. I thought I missed the kids when they went to school all day, and I did. But this is different. I have nothing that makes me get up in the morning. I have no reason other than to cook a meal, iron a shirt, or vacuum a floor that matters.

Nobody needs me for anything. I don’t know how to ask for help. Children grow up all the time. I’m embarrassed that I am so lost. I spent a month frantically filling my time and that became more work than working. It doesn’t come naturally and curling up alone feels natural, but way too quiet.

I feel so unproductive. I invent things to keep myself busy. I tidy and fix stuff. I box things. I sell things. I make food. I do laundry. I walk and count steps, I exercise. It’s empty. Nobody is asking me to do a thing and so I feel useless. I hate not having a schedule. It ruins my brain and motivation.

My daughter turned 21 yesterday. For 21 years I’ve defined myself as a mom. I took care of people. I barely know how to take care of myself. I’m not even sure I was a good influence on my kids. I actually think that they grew up determined to be as much the opposite of me as they could. I don’t know if I really did anything well raising them. I tried, I wanted to do well. I just wonder if my demons took over too often.

I am in a tailspin. I’ve disappointed my family repeatedly and sometimes cannot even face them. I am not even sure I know how to really make friends. I cry most of the days and quickly put on a happy face before my husband gets home so he doesn’t know how lost I am.

Because he hates his job. He doesn’t know how to get up and keep going and I wish I had a reason to get up and keep going. I envy his obligations. I do. I suspect he envies my shiftlessness. That’s what I feel my days are filled with. Nothing. Time killers. I want to tell him that I would give anything to have a reason to get up and out the door every day. An expectation, an obligation. A reason.

After processing that mood with words, it slowly began to dissipate instead of build. If you don't name it, you cannot defeat it. A sad mood is okay, but you shouldn't wallow. Work through it and get someone to talk to. Seek professional help if you need to. Don't let the mood linger and keep you in a dark place. I learned that your friends are going to be valuable resources and they will reach out to you, but also you ought to reach out to them. Don't sit in silence. Call the people you want to see and make a plan to do something.

I want to thank everyone who helped me through a rough day. You're all the best, truly. I appreciate your encouragement to share these thoughts in my book. I cannot wait for it to finish coming together!

Love,
Kim

The Roller Coaster of Emotion: Week Five continued

On the tail of finishing my list of things I don't miss, I made myself chuckle a few times and then a wave of emotion washed over me like a tsunami. I became overwhelmed with unexpected sadness and grief.

I've spent five weeks chronicling all the things I was doing and feeling so I could be as real time as possible. I debated if I should share such a raw emotional state. It seems so dramatic and self pitying. I am as embarrassed as I could be that I couldn't hold it together. A few emergency calls to close friends and writing it out really helped me process my pain.

What I learned yesterday is that it won't always be simple and straightforward. If you're like me, a lot of things are going to be happening simultaneously in your world, besides the empty nest. In my case, it is menopause, a milestone birthday, the loss of a parent all within the past few months.

This sort of thing is to be expected around our stage in life so there is a lot going on mentally and emotionally, besides the empty nest. I found myself walloped with a mood I couldn't climb out of... so I didn't. Instead, as I promised, I wrote it all out and I hope that you see how very normal and natural these sort of feelings can be. It's not uncommon, I discovered. I would like to not just share my words, but the wisdom so many friends offered up.

I feel so much less alone after sharing my thoughts and now want to put them out there for anyone who may read this. I have such wonderfully wise friends in my world.

Lori, who is a booster mom friend from band, choir, and drama, had this to say:

Milestones, good or bad, are designed to get us to the next phase of our lives. In [your daughter's] 21st birthday and her "official" entrance to adulthood, you've forgotten that kids need us in a totally different way as they get older. You may not be schlepping them from place to place, but your advice, life experience and just being their mom keeps you close, although some days it doesn't feel that way. Who told you that you had to productively (society's term) spend your days doing what society deems acceptable passages of time? Who cares if you spend all day writing in your pajamas, reading or doing whatever makes you happy? Cleaning, fixing, selling are all things people expect a newly emptied nested mom to do but if they don't make you happy then why do them. I'm close to empty nest hood, have begun the adjustment phase and it isn't easy. Take the time to come to grips with the new dynamic of your family. The right answers will come to you in time, I'm sure of it. Maybe for all of us parents making this adjustment, I pray it is. You've got a grip on this- it just hasn't revealed itself.

To which I told Lori that I had a lot of really silly ways I had been killing time. This is the quite embarrassing way and I even realized why it has been such a crutch for me. I've been binge watching an old television show on Hulu. As long as I'm keeping it real, I will also admit that I have truly terrible taste in television. I don't do culture or thinking shows. I personify the term vegging-out when I turn on the television. The last time in my life that I didn't have children, there was a show I watched every week religiously. My husband worked nights so I would come home and flip on this show with a bowl of popcorn. I even watched it when I was waiting to give birth to Daughter #2. Watching the adventures of Dylan, Brenda, and the rest of the gang from Beverly Hills 90210 has kept me company for several weeks. It really is as bad as I remembered, but I don't care. It entertains me. I've watched so many episodes that Dylan & Brenda aren't even on the show anymore. I'll let you know how it turns out. I never saw the end of the series, because I had children and stopped watching TV near that time. My friend Jackie recommends Gilmore Girls when I'm done with 90210. I think I'll do that.

Thoughts from my friend Denise who vacationed with me as a teenager:

[My husband] and I go on a retreat every year. We learn, in a group setting, that a woman's bond with her husband often gets lost raising children. At the same time, a man gets caught up in furthering his career at the expense of quality family time.
Reconnect with [your husband]. Rediscover why you married him in the first place. Marriage constantly needs attention at all stages of life. ...include him in making your decisions about your future. You just may be happier as a result. 

Denise really helped me understand that this is a team project and decision. I need my husband to know what is happening and to rekindle what we let slip away. Maybe he just needs to see more boobs. Err, eggs.

Kathleen, who was a fellow band mom with me had this to say:

This is the start of my 3rd year without my girl--and although I always wanted her to fly-soar even, I miss her and I wonder if I spent enough time with her? Every time I see [our marching band] or hear certain songs, I tear up. It does get better -but it is a strange feeling. I love the freedom and I love that [we] can be "free-wheeling"-but there are still times I think of that little girl I had and my eyes fill. You are so busy-and enrich so many lives-be patient with yourself. Cry, reminisce, and take your time to get to wherever your next step will be.

Kathy helped me realize that we don't have to "get over" anything. It will be there and that's okay.

From Liz, my former co-worker, whose daughter is the same age as mine had these words:

It's like losing a job- our biggest job that we're the most proud of-being a mom. Every time [my daughter] brings up that she's not going to move back home after graduation in April, I cringe. I look forward to when she's home - there's more for me to do. All this in spite of the fact I work a very demanding full time job. I know how you feel. We're used to being the overachieving parents of our overachieving kids.

Liz and I worked side by side for several years. We found ourselves sharing notes through our children's high school years and discovering how very much we had in common besides a common employer. So I know she understands how very much this does feel like a job loss.

With a final reminder from my friend Ellen, who I became friends with right after I graduated from high school, wrote this about her own experience:

I was a whole person before I had children. I was a woman, I was sexy, I was beautiful, I had words, I was a someday novelist, I had intelligence, I was a singer, an artist, I had my voice, I loved deeply. I had goals and wants unrelated to motherhood. I was a force. I was an individual. I planned meals, I went to the store and bought things. I sifted the cat box. I drove a car across the country. I loved. I watched others die. I had a lot of great sex, completely unrelated to procreation, before I was a mother.
I was a whole person before motherhood.
I love being a mother. But it is just one part of me.
They deserve a lot.
But not every single second of my time.
Not my every resource.
Not my every thought or consideration.
Love doesn't mean the destruction of self, or it shouldn't.
I was me, before them, and that's not a bad thing.
I was a whole person before I was a mother. 

Ellen, we still are whole people. Thank you for the eloquent reminder.

What exactly did I write to get such an outpouring of wisdom? That will be my next post.  Week Five is a big one!