“Your child’s life will be filled with fresh experiences. It’s good if yours is as well.”
— Dr. Margaret Rutherford, clinical psychologist
Bill and I had a “Back to the Future” event this week; we took the first in a series of lessons at the Arthur Murray dance studio in Quakerbridge Mall — a Christmas gift from my sweetie. While we explored new styles — the bachata, salsa and rhumba (Dancing with the Stars, here we come!) the experience took us back to 1989 and the months before our October nuptials, when we enrolled at Arthur Murray in San Francisco to learn the cha-cha for our wedding dance.
Some things don’t change even over nearly three decades: I still try to lead, Bill still tends to overdress for the temperature of the studio, and we still vow to practice in between sessions and then don’t have the time. But we are both embracing this activity as something we can do together as we grow old, and that is a new concept — looking ahead to the days when our time is less filled with have to do and more with want to do.
We still have work to structure our days. But gone are the weeks that were stacked with children’s activities from morning to night — from school to practices to lessons to games to homework. With Katie and Molly launched into the real world and Will who has become Mr. Independent-let-us-know-when-you’ll-be-home-for-dinner since he got his driver’s license two months ago, we have become less the managers of our children’s lives and more the spectators who chime in occasionally with our opinions and cash replenishments.
You raise your children to be independent, to think and do for themselves, and then, in an instant, it happens, much like that moment when you let go of the back of the bike and they’re cruising on that two-wheeler on their own. They become a speck in the distance and you wonder when you will see them again, and then they turn around and come back and you breathe a sigh of relief.
“Always be nice to your children because they are the ones who will choose your rest home.”
— Phyllis Diller, comedienne
We have always been nice to our children just because we’re nice people, but some day they may actually be in charge of our lives, so I’m making sure that I lay down the groundwork for reciprocal kindness when I reach old age. While I intend to be hale and hearty as well as physically and financially independent, you never really know, so good planning is imperative if you want to live the lifestyle you deserve.
I’ve turned out to be the child on duty for my parents — primarily because of geographical proximity — but I wonder how much of that is because I am the daughter on scene. There is that old adage: “A son is a son until he takes a wife, a daughter’s a daughter all of her life.” And while you don’t want to pigeonhole all grown sons into the same box of neglectful stereotype, the AARP says that of the 45 million people in the United States who are unpaid caregivers to their elderly relatives, at least 60 percent of them are daughters.
Of my three children, two are girls, so my chances of being well taken care of in my old age are pretty good. But that doesn’t mean my son is off the hook — oh no no no — and in fact, if we go by Korean tradition, we will be expecting to live with him and his family. Just a heads up, Will, so that you can think about planning accordingly.
“Oh let’s get rich and buy our parents homes in the south of France,
Let’s get rich and give everybody nice sweaters and teach them how to dance…”
— Ingrid Michaelson, singer-songwriter
I swear my ears literally perked up the first time I heard this song. And no matter how many times I listen, there is always something magical and appealing about having a home in the south of France- or in San Francisco — or in New York — and having our children buy it for us. If you continue to follow the arc of the lyrics, our kids can even keep us in LL Bean or Ralph Lauren warmth and style and fund our boogie shoe path to the Dancing with the Stars golden trophy.
Our kids very well may be our best retirement plan. We’re playing catch up with our retirement funds after years of shooting it out the door on education, so the very least they can do is to pay us back with a cushy octogenarian lifestyle. With all that fancy schooling, they should be able to get well-paying jobs that fund not only their dreams and needs but mine as well.
Of course, I say all of this very much tongue-in-cheek. If our kids are happy and healthy and visit us from time to time with the grandchildren, that’s all we would want and expect. I’d even step up for them and be the best doggie grandma ever so they don’t have to spend money on boarding and I can get my pet fix whenever I want.
It may seem like I’m projecting a lot into the future, but I got a tangible reminder this week that the future has arrived. Some of our dearest neighbors — our friends over the last 15 years — told us they’re getting their house ready for sale and have already put a down payment on a new house miles away. With empty nesthood looming, they’re leaving to downsize. It’s the end of an era, the close of a chapter, and we’re not that far behind.
