<p>Anyone else got 'em? Man. Daughter stayed up at college for the summer this year, with a research job. Son is off at a music performance “camp” in the midwest for six weeks. It’s just us and the dog now. In many ways it’s great–no schlepping, we can go out to dinner or away for the weekend whenever we want. No bickering, no horrible morning wake-ups of comatose teens. Their bedrooms are so surreally clean and perfect that it seems we should have those velveteen ropes in the doorways to prevent nosy tourists from venturing in too far. But it also really feels weird.</p>
<p>I remember having this feeling in the late fall of '03. The euphoria of seeing our first fledgling fly confidently from the nest–as if someone had been trying to prepare her for that moment for 18 years --had worn off, and a “this is not a drill” warning began going off in my heart. Someone here had started a “Letting Go” thread, and I recall writing that I felt as if a door had shut behind me, locked, and I could never go back into that wonderful place again. Our little family, and my personal identity as a hands-on mom were forever altered.</p>
<p>Feeling a little that way again this week, although it is only a drill. September will come, the familiar rhythms will kick in, and things will feel normal once more—school, plays, rehearsal schedules, music lessons, performances, sports events, messy bedroom, kids staying overnight. I feel fortunate to have two more years of this to look forward to, but the fact that this will be the pentultimate occurrence of this particular rotation in my life will have me looking at things differently.</p>
<p>My last will be off to school (in what seems like a galaxy far, far away), but we are getting a gradual education in what it will be like. All through high school - but most dramatically during his senior year - he’s been getting more and more independent of us. And this summer, after graduation, he was off to Mexico for a vacation with the family of one of his friends. Now, with his work, his filming projects, and his pet and house-sitting, we have to get an appointment in his calendar to have any meaningful discussion time with him.</p>
<p>But I know that when September comes and he’s then living away from home it will be hard on us. I like your “this is not a drill” statement, because I feel like all of this independence up till now HAS been a drill.</p>
<p>Driver, I have been feeling a little blue all of the academic year starting from last September. My only kid went off to college and we’re alone for the first time in many years. I can’t really explain it to anyone at work, everyone has either no kids or much younger kids. The kid is now back at college for the summer as well. This is some getting used to! </p>
<p>I’ve been feeling the “this is not a drill” since January of this year. During the Fall, the kid was getting used to college and used to come home more often. The spring semester, he emerged with more confidence and more independence. Not that that’s a bad thing - it’s great! But what’s a mother to do?</p>
<p>Achat, when I was a kid my parents would occasionally say something to the effect that they would know they had been successful parents when the time came that I didn’t need them any more. That always made me feel sad, because it implied a breakup of the family unit I’d always known, upon which I was dependent. I feel the same kind of sadness now, but I now begin to understand what they meant about feeling successful as parents, even though the independence is not yet complete. The kids are off and running, just as we had hoped and planned all these year. It’s very bitter-sweet.</p>
<p>I was feeling the same way, but your message made me think of something else: how do parents of adult children feel when their kids land back at home? I know parents with at-home adult kids (including close family members). Your comment made me realize why some of these parents are embarassed by that - that maybe THEY (the parents) were not quite so successful at helping build that independence.</p>
<p>My youngest will be leaving for college in August, and I am NOT looking forward to it. We do have our college graduate home for awhile, but he is applying for jobs in Japan, so he may be gone VERY far away in a few months. And I am NOT looking forward to the empty nest at all. My younger son, in particular, is very wise and loves to talk, so we have wonderful discussions. (My older son is a great kid, too, but shares less with us, perhaps from so many years away at college.) Younger son also plays the trumpet, so that is another sound I will miss come August.</p>
<p>I try to remember that parenting was only supposed to be for a season and that I once lived a full life without kids, but that seems an eternity ago. It will not be an easy adjustment, I think. (Husband, on the other hand, is looking forward to having me all to himself, I think…)</p>
<p>Younger son did help out by choosing a college that doesn’t give great financial aid. I will be so busy working to help pay his bills that perhaps I won’t have time to miss him! That kid–always thinking of others!</p>
<p>Right now I feel that independence is highly overrated. ;)</p>
<p>My college D left for South America yesterday for several weeks to join in a research project. I sat at home all day waiting for the phone call that never came- fortunately we did get a brief “I’ve arrived!” email.
My hs S is on the other coast taking art classes. I’m not deleting his one phone message so I can hear his voice when I miss him. We’ll be lucky if we get one or two more calls before his return next month. I have to make myself leave the house so I don’t feel like a spurned lover waiting for “the call.”</p>
<p>My D has been in Europe with a HS group-- returns tomorrow. It has been a dry run for fall, just me, DH & two sons. </p>
<p>Susantm, I can relate about the trumpet. I miss D’s singing and humming. </p>
<p>The only thing that makes this bearable is that she is about to go to the perfect school for her and she is over the moon excited. We are able to feel genuinely happy for her sake.</p>
My D played piano and sang every morning before school. I get a little choked up every time I hear “The Long December” (Counting Crows) because that’s what she was working on when the acceptance letters started coming in , and the imminent departure became so very real.
Getting very misty-eyed. Been there, I know what you’re saying. You’re so right, enjoy it.</p>
<p>I have a lump in my throat after reading this thread. I can understand the bittersweetness that is being experienced.</p>
<p>My son is a year away from going away to college, so we have yet to experience in full what you are. I don’t like the thought of not seeing my son everyday. Though I am quite sure the feeling is not mutual! :)</p>
<p>I have overcome the hurdle of wanting him to go to a college close to home. But, I am glad, for now, he is still here. </p>
<p>Luckily for us, our daughter is only 10, so we’ve got a few more years before she goes to college. I don’t know what I will do for entertainment when she goes away to college. I think what will happen is that I will finally get a chance to put a little more work into my '57 Chevy that is almost finished (and has been “almost finished” for several years). I think that is a project that I am going to save so I have something to look forward to when they’re both away. </p>
<p>I’m thinking about taking some college classes, too. Might take them before daughter goes so Dad can set a good example. Even though both my kids are great students, its hard telling them about the importance of college when your college career consists of two weeks of junior college.</p>
<p>I think character is a lot more important than a college career. And it sounds like your kids are benefiting from yours.</p>
<p>We just dropped our son off at West Point - I didn’t realize how difficult it would be. He’s allowed two randomly timed phone calls during the basic training (the next six weeks) and we can’t call him. He’ll be back on occasion - leaves, between postings - but the Army has a lot of ideas about how he’ll spend his next nine years. I’m very proud but very sad at the same time.</p>
<p>Yes! Suddenly the whole mid-life crisis business makes so much sense.</p>
<p>It isn’t your imagination. It will be IMPOSSIBLE to replace the overwhelming sense of unconditional love that flows through a young family like right-as-rain sweetness. It will be impossible because still-married fiftysomethings do not have small arms and legs thrown around them with the same abandon unless they change careers and decide to teach pre-school.</p>
<p>We parents have been spoiled with love. Spoiled senseless. Now we must learn to live with much much less love; with less and less seratonin to help us feel happy.</p>
<p>Who designed this system? See some major design flaws, <em>ahem</em> ?</p>
<p>As a reward, which frankly we never thought he’d achieve, we allowed S2 to move to the attic bedroom. Now, we never see him. We hear the clump of feet as he and his friends move around, but actual sightings are way down. We have to shout and shout to get him to come to to the top of the stairs.</p>
<p>“We MISS you!” </p>
<p>“I am bloody ten meters away!!???##**!!” Comes the exasperated response.</p>
<p>Where is the love?</p>
<p>Now I understand why so many older men jump into second families. They can’t bear the loss.</p>
<p>Ah, Cheers, that’s what grandchildren are for. But then you have to accept the fact that you’re a gramma. Maybe I will buy a red convertible, just to tide me over.</p>
<p>Only son is home after first year at college. The school year went by fast. We survived. The first month was the longest. A family of hawks moved in behind us recently. Last week or so the 2 hawk kids appeared and are flying. We all seem to share the same dinner time. Last night the two kids were out and I didn’t see mom or dad. I started wondering if the parents had “left them off at college” in the backyard. I started asking my husband if he thought the “kids” were on their own and how long would they stay? I hope the hawk kids and the son don’t leave at the same time. It will be double empty nest for me.</p>
<p>When S#1 went off to college in fall 2002, I thought I would die—no kidding! It was better after Christmas and his visit, but never never the same. Every year since he’s been gradually moving farther and farther away, emotionally speaking.
Now we are college hunting for S#2, and this week practicing the “empty nest” while he is at wrestling camp and S#1 is still living on campus and working a summer job. It is really quiet here.
I am sad and proud at the same time.
We have talked about it and decided we will retire to someplace attractive to the kids so they will want to come visit–ski vacations at Christmas and so forth. Our entire economy and culture has changed so much, and we cannot depend on either one of them settling down in one spot forever.
So why not make a new homestead, one that suits us for retirement, and them for vacation, fun, and sport, and one for Gchildren maybe a while from now?</p>
<p>I have been getting ready for this time since she learned what college was and told me she would be “going away to college”. I guess one can never be fully prepared. Emotional breakdowns occur out of the blue! I think I don’t know where they are coming from until friends and family ask how I’m doing and if we are ready. Yesterday was tough because I was booking our flights to the other coast for the new beginning. Bottom line, wow! What a great opportunity for my kid and I take some pride in raising a daughter who is seeking to expand her horizons to their maximum potential. I am very impressed with her, despite the natural maternal fears that are buried deep inside me.</p>
<p>Your posts are very reassuring and very comforting. I find strength in numbers and so many good observations and advice from you. You, my CC friends are the ones I need to help me swim/wade(?) through this.</p>
--had worn off, and a “this is not a drill” warning began going off in my heart. Someone here had started a “Letting Go” thread, and I recall writing that I felt as if a door had shut behind me, locked, and I could never go back into that wonderful place again. Our little family, and my personal identity as a hands-on mom were forever altered.</p>