I was brushing my teeth the other night when my glance fell on our toothbrush holder. Designed for four toothbrushes, it now holds only two.
That image somehow defined empty nest for me. I know. It’s weird. But that’s how my mind works. You know that by now.
We have experienced empty nest periodically over the years. Both our sons were in college at the same time for a year.
But they would come home for holidays and random weekends and summers. And their rooms remained intact, with all their stuff in them. So that doesn’t really count as empty nest.
They have lived in apartments in various places: Sea Bright, Newtown, Philly. But they came back. So that’s not empty nest either.
But now we have a truly empty nest. One son lives in West Trenton and the other in Fairless Hills, Pennsylvania. Their stuff is gone. They are not coming back (At least I don’t think they are). It’s a weird feeling.
We no longer have to jockey our cars around to accommodate whoever leaves first in the mornings. We don’t have to tiptoe around on weekends because they sleep until 1 p.m.
Their bedroom doors are always open now. We no longer have to sleep lightly, waiting for them to come home at night but not appearing to be waiting.
We no longer have to press our ears against their bedroom walls while they are in there talking on the phone. Um, wait. I never did that. (Yeah, right.) We no longer spend half of our paychecks on grocery shopping every week. We have towels. A lot of towels. And they are clean.
And I know this is a small thing, but toilet paper……we have it! For some reason, we went through toilet paper like crazy when it was three or four of us living in our house. I know that is too much information, but it’s a big deal to me!
Donnie’s room still has stuff in it. His furniture is still in place. Our dog has claimed Donnie’s bed as his own. And Georgie’s room is my craft room now. He is horrified at the state of his former room. “Wreath hell,” he calls it.
So our house is quieter. We fill it with our banter, chat, dog spoiling and daily routine. But underneath that noise, there is still an echo of those young boys and the lives we four led together.
Homework, mealtimes, sleepovers, soccer games, phones ringing, doors slamming are now traded for text messages and phone calls and invitations to come over for dinner.
Mojo has finally stopped sitting on the arm of our couch waiting for one of them to come home.
Things are definitely different, but as I am fond of saying, different doesn’t mean bad. Georgie and Donnie have their own lives. They have their careers, their relationships (both of their girlfriends are wonderful!), and their own homes.
It’s very fulfilling for me to hear about what’s going on in their lives. But the mommy in me misses the time in their lives when they needed me, to wipe the tears, patch up the scraped knee or elbow, help with homework, carpool. Looking back, I cannot believe how quickly it all went.
So bear with me while I give advice to all young parents out there: enjoy it while it lasts, because before you know it, you will have a ton of toilet paper and clean towels and free space in your driveway.
It’s hard to imagine now as you raise your young children, but one day you will sit on your couch and listen to the quiet house, and you will be shocked at how it all went by in a flash.
Here’s a quote that pretty much sums it up:
“When mothers talk about the depression of the empty nest, they’re not mourning the passing of all those wet towels on the floor, or the music that numbs your teeth, or even the bottle of capless shampoo dribbling down the shower drain. They’re upset because they’ve gone from supervisor of a child’s life to a spectator. It’s like being the vice president of the United States.”
—Erma Bombeck (my idol)
Ilene Black has been a resident of Ewing for most of her life and lives across the street from her childhood home. She and her husband, George, have two sons, Georgie, 32, and Donnie, 28.
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