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Posts Tagged ‘feelings of empty nesting’

“What happened to your house?” the little boy said as he quietly stood at my front door. I eyed him with a puzzled look and replied, “What do you mean?” But just as soon as I said those words, it dawned on me – I knew exactly what he meant. I squatted down to his level and said apologetically, “I’m so sorry. My boys grew up.” This little boy, dressed up as a devil, had come trick-or-treating at my home with the anticipation of finding my traditionally scary-looking house, but instead he found only a few fake spider webs strewn across some bushes. As I closed the door behind him, I felt the weight of his question and thought about what had happened to my house.

Halloween was always a fun time around our home. “What should I be for Halloween, Mommy?” was a question I anticipated every October 15th. Costumes were either purchased at a store or made by me – sometimes in advance, but most often at the last minute. And selecting which treats to pass out was always a dilemma. Being a dental hygienist, I didn’t like to pass out sugary sweets, but every year I relented when my kids pleaded that it wasn’t cool to pass out toothbrushes or dental floss. Other Halloween memories involved delivering secret “BOO” treats to neighbors. We would do reconnaissance by driving around the neighborhood to see which family did not have a BOO sign on their front door and later when it was dark, we’d sneak off and place a bag of treats on the doorstep, ring the doorbell, and then run like the dickens!

The most fun Halloween memories, though, are always centered around decorating the house. After my children were born, I started collecting little whimsical pieces of decorations, but as the children grew older they wanted to be more involved in the decorating. My sons, in particular, had their own ideas about how to transform our house for Halloween. With their help our Halloween decorations got more elaborate and progressively creepier. One year a skeleton hung from an oak tree in front of our house, but the next year bloody-looking, fake body parts joined it. Eventually, shrieks, screams, and bone-chilling music drifted out of a window and floated down the driveway. Playing the eerie music on our karaoke machine led to an unusual use of it – the boys discovered that by using the karaoke’s microphone, they could scream into it and scare unsuspecting trick-or-treaters. One son would man the microphone while the other peeked out the front window. If they knew the trick-or-treater’s name, they would personalize their ghostly greeting like this, “KYLE!!! . . . What are you doing heeeere? . . . I wouldn’t come any clooooser if I were yooouu . . . !” Add some swirling fog and orange-colored spotlights to the mix and our house evolved into one scary destination.

Then it happened. First one son went away to college and then the second one followed him. Although my daughter was still home, she was not into the gore of Halloween or into decorating the house. I enjoyed the “feminine” side of Halloween as my daughter grew up, but it just wasn’t the same without the boys’ antics.

Since the kids left, Halloween has always stirred up feelings of empty nesting in me; I miss my kids most around this time of the year. But with feelings of empty nesting come feelings of renewal and revival. I look forward now to going over to my son’s new home to see what gross and eerie scenes he’ll create with a bin of slightly used body parts and the old karaoke and fog machines of his youth! So to all the kids in his new neighborhood . . . BEWARE!

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“How long are you going to stay?” I asked my oldest son who was home for a visit. Sitting on the family room sofa with his eyes glued to his laptop computer and his fingers rapidly moving across the keyboard, he nonchalantly said, “Only a couple of days. I have to get home.” For a split second I wanted to say, “Wait . . . this is your home . . . ” but I caught myself and calmly replied, “Okay.” Intellectually, I knew what he said was true – he hadn’t lived here for some time – but emotionally it was hard for me to digest. For some reason I hadn’t seen it coming; I hadn’t prepared myself for the day when my children would no longer consider this family home their home. That particular conversation took place several years ago and now I find those same emotions beginning to resurface.

A rubber skeleton, four years worth of high school prom photos, a pair of gold sneakers with wings, ceramic projects, a blue rope light, stacks of college books and papers, and a closet full of clothes no longer worn are all that’s left in my second son’s room. As I searched his room for things that I could pack and take over to his newly purchased home, reality hit me again. His room, this once messy boy’s room, is no longer just that and this home, this once chaotic, busy home, is no longer his home.

Again, it’s not like he’s lived at home for a while now, so I should be used to him being gone. For the last eight years, he’s lived in dormitories, apartments, and condos, but because those residences were deemed temporary, his home was always our family home, at least in my mind. Now he has a new house, a new place to call his home.

Purchasing your first home is a huge milestone. Who doesn’t remember the excitement of owning your first place? I’m ecstatic for him and his girlfriend of nine years, because I know big plans lie ahead and good things are coming their way. And having one of my children settling down not too far from our family home is this parent’s dream and consolation for the momentary sense of loss I feel.

Another positive way of looking at things is that by his buying a house, I’m not losing another child from my home, but I’m gaining another room! I’ve always wanted a workroom that I could spread out and create in and now that can become a reality. The family room wet bar, once my craft area, can now go back to its original purpose. My husband, too, is regaining valuable real estate by taking two bikes and a rusty lawn mower out of our garage and over to our son’s garage.

At some point in time all my children will be happily ensconced in their own homes. These rites of passage will be excitedly met by them and joyfully accepted by me and my husband. Time marches on and things constantly change, but don’t mind me, if I occasionally slip back in time and remember the way we were.

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