I used to laugh about my friends who suffered from “empty nest syndrome.”
I was one of six children. When the oldest left, I don’t remember anyone being all that upset. We were too busy fighting over who got his room.
When I left for college, my younger brothers and sister were fighting over mine. I thought it was great that I wouldn’t have to babysit anymore. I mean I missed the little ones and all, but I guess I was ready to move on.
When my youngest sister finally left for college, you could hear my mom’s squeal of delight for miles. Then my sister called home one night and said she was thinking about dropping out of school.
My mom, in her wisdom, said, “Great! Where are you going to live?”
There was a pause. Then my sister replied, “Well, I thought I would come back home.”
To which my mother answered, “Well, you thought wrong.” My mom was very much enjoying her empty nest and my sister was NOT going to ruin it.
When my daughter said she wanted to be a foreign exchange student, I was very supportive. I knew she had reached that point where she, too, was ready to move on. I thought I was ready, too.
The weeks that lead to her departure were full of constant activity, phone calling, checklists, and packing. I didn’t have time to think about the fact I wouldn’t see her for a whole year.
I watched as she walked down the corridor to get on the plane. When she was out of sight, it hit me, and I bawled like a baby. How could I have thought this was a good idea?
All my “parent instructions” warned me not to let her know how much I missed her because she’d have a harder time adjusting to her new family. What a dilemma.
I wrote one mushy e-mail and received one back. I wrote another one. She said to cut it out. She went on to say the family she’s living with doesn’t have any younger kids, so I’m taking that to mean she’s really excited about not having to help me cart them around and all.
So anyway, my youngest daughter is excited about moving into the older one’s bedroom. And she didn’t even have to fight anyone for it.
