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05-25-2007, 11:23 PM
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Advice for Empty Nesters
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"The brain of an 18-year-old college freshman is still far from resembling the brain of someone in their mid-twenties." Craig Bennett
"We were feeling what so many talk about as the 'empty nest' syndrome. Thorough devastation." Jenny Coffey
The Inquirer's ace Metro columnist Dan Rubin wrote a funny, touching, spot-on piece this week, Pain of preparing for an empty nest. Dan and his wife face a double whammy as their twin boys both head off to college in August.
Our son graduated college last summer, got a great job, lives in his own apartment. So we've had to face a rolling series of Empty Nest Traumas. And I have some coping advice to offer.
Believe me, it's not easy. And anybody who claims to be thrilled their kids are leaving home is either lying or doesn't have a genuinely good relationship with them. Unless of course the "kids" are pushing 30.
But if you've raised your children right, you can handle this major life-altering transition right too. Not, however, without a few--or many--tears.
First, The Back Story
Our kid's an only child, at the Independent end of the spectrum, not the Spoiled Brat end. We wanted him to learn to share and interact with other kids, so he started doing sleep-overs when he was 4, overnight camp at 9.
Not once in his entire childhood did we have to go get him because he was homesick. He loved the fun and freedom. We loved the privacy.
Like it was yesterday, I remember that first time at the Bala Cynwyd shopping center as the buses pulled away from the parking lot toward camp. Mothers started sobbing on fathers' shoulders. Some kids' tearful faces could be seen pressed against the bus windows.
My husband and I just grinned at each other and headed for our car. I pumped my fist in the air in the universal sign of "YES!" And Mike was doing the same thing on the bus.
I like to think he grew up with such independence because we gave him the kind of solid, safe haven at home that allowed him to venture out securely, not needing to check back in all the time to be sure we were still there.
If you raised kids in a similar way, they--and you--will be fine. Ultimately.
A Little Rebellion
They do need to test you and the Parental Protection Factor just a bit before they feel ready to leave the nest and face the world on their own.
Which means trouble. Prepare for it. Put aside bail money.
They will practice drinking to excess. They might--god forbid--think they can drive that way. They will do incredibly stupid things, making you wonder what alien life force took over your formerly polite, bright, well-behaved honor student. You just have to hope for kindly police officers with kids of their own.
The legend in this house is the panicked phone call during a raging thunderstorm, "Mom!!! I tried to cross the Gladwyne ford and the car's floating sideways into the stream! There's already water on the floor! What should I do???" To be fair, he was driving the Jeep Grand and there was a current TV ad showing the same model easily crossing a stream. He and the car made it out, slightly damp but alive.
No matter what, don't bother with the Responsibility Speech. Instead, stress cabs, which you will pay for. Or stress that you will pick them up any place, any time if they're too impaired to drive. Stress condoms. Over and over. Stress your address. Stress not losing the cell phone ... stress keeping it charged and turned on.
Above all, notice that the key word here is Stress. Get used to it. If you can make it through this summer, you'll have a leg up on the years to come ... after they've been living on their own and everybody has to adjust to a new family dynamic.
Keep Home Base the Same
Do not touch their rooms. Don't move anything out. Don't move anything in. This gives them the same critical sense of safe haven. Helps assure they'll be more likely to move comfortably and fully away from home when the time comes.
And trust me, after they're gone you'll find yourself wandering into those rooms, smelling the clothes left behind, touching the old soccer trophies, picking up a book or a term paper, sitting on the bed. Remembering. And, just a little bit, grieving for a childhood well and truly gone.
Plus, you really don't want to know yet what's under the bed and behind the bookcase.
Moving In, Moving On
Mom puts together his room at college. That's just the way it is. Up and down the halls you'll see Dads and kids hauling piles of stuff from the car. Inside the rooms you'll see Moms making the beds and putting the stuff away.
The kids expect it. After all, their rooms at home came already outfitted. They just added personal detritus over the years. They have no clue how to create a new nest. At least not the first year of college.
After that, they look at school, and you with new eyes. You are the money machine and delivery service. Each new semester they'll need you to help ferry their stuff, maybe let Mom make the bed. Otherwise it'll be, "Thanks, you can go home now" as they find their friends and make plans for renewed independence, aka beer parties.
A Few Practical Tips
If they take medication, bring new written prescriptions and then make your kid find Student Health to get the scripts filled or rewritten by college doctors (differs state to state).
If their school is anywhere near Canada or the Caribbean, make sure their passports are current and stored in a lock box you've provided for valuables. After they've been ripped off once or twice, they'll use it.
Put together a first aid box of band aids, Neosporin, Pepto, Advil, over-the-counter cold and allergy meds, throat lozenges, a digital thermometer, Kleenex and condoms. Freshmen get scraped, drunk, hung over, laid and hit with endless viruses running through the dorm. Insist they get the flu shot the school will provide in October.
If the school offers a laundry service and you can afford it, sign up for it. Even the most fastidious kids will sleep on one set of sheets an entire semester. Really. If they live close to home, expect them to bring laundry for Mom on visits and breaks. Buy lots of Clorox. When you open their duffle bags, you'll gag.
Tips on the Inevitable
They will lose a winter coat.
Their cell phone will have to be replaced at least once, usually twice. (Mike dropped one in the toilet, lost one in the snow.)
You will get a snuffling, hacking, coughing, sneezing, sad-sack phone call when they catch the flu because they forgot to sign up for the flu shot. (If that happens, they won't forget sophomore year.)
You will not believe how much books cost.
They will hate the dorm food and beg for money to buy "something I can eat." Translation: pizza, Chinese food and tacos.
The Amazing Sad Truth
We all felt ready for our son to begin college. As always, we encouraged and supported his natural ability to adapt, make friends, fit in. We took him to school, helped him unpack, didn't linger.
When we left he was happy, relaxed and confident, had already lined up a basketball game, a dinner plan and even a date for the weekend. The typical signs of our independent kid in action. What a relief.
But. This time as we left him on his own and pointed the car back to Philly, I didn't pump my fist. I didn't yell, "YES!"
Instead, without warning, I started to sob. I couldn't stop. My head dropped into my hands and I curled up on the seat weeping. To this day I don't really understand why. But my child was gone and I was inconsolable.
We got home and I went to bed. I pretty much stayed there for 3 months. Odd. Not at all like me, but true.
Whenever he called home I was bright and perky on the phone. I sent things he'd forgotten, listened attentively to tales of college life, offered advice when asked, added money to his bank account, reminded his father to remind him to use condoms.
The rest of the time was a blur of pain and loss.
Then he came home for a month for Winter Break. We went to Florida to see my folks. Back home, he and I shopped for stuff he needed. I cooked his favorites. Did mountains of laundry. We talked and laughed and hugged. His high school friends came and went as usual. He was still happy, relaxed and confident. Maybe even more so.
And just like that, my world righted itself. I shed a few tears after he left--which continued each time for 4 years--but the worst was over. I slowly adjusted to being a contented empty nester as he easily became a strong nestling out in the world.
Now after college he's living his own life and so are we. He shows up when he wants a home cooked meal or just to touch base. We email and call and text each other. I still give advice. He still gives hugs.
My life as an empty nester is good. But I'll tell you a secret:
Even though his room is now used for guests and extra storage, I still wander in there every once in a while. I run my hands over the trophies, pick up a book, smile at the parade of pictures. I open his closet to touch the few things still there. I sit on the bed. And remember.
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When your turn comes--if it hasn't already--you'll do that too.
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