empty nest Archives - Page 175 of 179 - Adulting: Second- Half

Modern Momming

For all of the grumbling that I sometimes do, about technology and “Big Brother”, yesterday I found myself so grateful for what we have available to us, at the click of a button. I received pictures from family and friends sharing their weekend adventures with me. I tracked my son’s flight safely back from South America, to home. And when he got home, he shared so many pictures and videos with his father and I, that it almost felt like I had been there with him. (a little piece of my heart is always with him, but that goes without saying) I had a quick little text exchange with my youngest son, just enough to let him know how much I miss and love him, but also how excited I was for him and his new adventures at college. When he said that he missed the dogs, I was able to send some video of them, being their crazy, lovable selves, to him, in an instant. The peace of mind that modern technology affords, is a mother’s dream come true. Even if the rest of our family doesn’t always agree . . . .

Image result for memes about moms and technology

Truly Amazing

Change is so acute, right when it first happens. Our house is eerily quiet with just the three of us, at home. Our dogs are especially clingy. They are so attuned to our emotional nuances. My friend pointed out something to me, before I even realized it. For the first time in our married life, my husband will be living in a female dominant household. I think that he’ll do alright. He comes from a family of five kids and he is the only boy. I always thought that he “got” females a little bit better than the average guy, because of that fact. I like that my daughter gets her father all to herself, for the next few years. This will be a very special time for them both.

Who He Is To Me

We will be dropping my youngest son off at college tomorrow. I’ve written before that he is ready to move on and I am prepared. Having been through this twice before, makes it both easier and harder, all because I know what to expect. We’ll adjust.

We are going to have lunch today, just the two of us. That is a rare thing in a family of six. Children, even almost adult children, relish that undivided attention that one-on-one time with a parent gives to them. My son will be cracking jokes or saying things to get my goat. He’s the child who often heard me say, “Please stop being so inflammatory.” His teachers were always impressed that he knew a big word like “inflammatory.”

The funny thing is, my son will think that I will be listening to him, and I will be, to an extent. But I will be less intent on what he is saying and more intent in just savoring the whole essence of him – his familiar mannerisms, his quirky slang, his intense blue eyes. I read once that when you look at your child, you see every version of him or her, all at once. So when I am gazing intently at my youngest son today, I’ll see that round headed, easy-going baby who would pop his head up, just when I was convinced that I had gotten him to sleep. I’ll see that rough and tumble toddler with such a raspy voice that people told me he should be a radio announcer, when he was about three. I’ll see that little guy, who I peered at in the rear view mirror, as I took him to preschool, who talked and talked, making it easy for me to just rest and nod. I’ll see the young boy who was so tough on the football field and the basketball courts, yet so full of intense, righteous feeling, that he could never convincingly lie to anyone. I’ll see the skinny adolescent, always trying to keep up with his older brothers, yet eager to carve his own unique, impressive path. And all of those images will be encased in the handsome, earnest young man across from me at lunch, the young man with a broad shouldered 6’2″ frame, who will be making edgy remarks to get me off balance, all in playful good fun. I will savor him. I will be grateful for him. And I will swallow my tears before they show, because deep down, I know that we both are going to be just fine. We will have lunch together again, just the two of us, and the next time that we have lunch together, there will be a whole new interesting persona for me to get to know, added to all of the wonderful rest of them, that make up who my son is, to me.

So Much Sense

Image result for funny tortoise pictures

I learned a new word this morning. I get a daily email from word genius and like an annoying, smug, little know-it-all kid in your honors English class, often I look at the “word of the day”, that comes on this email and I say to myself, “Oh, phhhh, I already know that word.” Well, lah-ti-f-ing-dah! (that one is not actually a real word. It’s not likely to be featured on word genius any time in the near future.)

Today’s word is a lovely word. I absolutely plan to add it to my vernacular. Today’s word is Senescence, pronounced Sa-ness-scents. It means “the aging process.” Now if you are thinking, “Oh, phhhh, I already know that word,” to you I say, “Well, Lah-ti-f-ing-dah!” I personally don’t recall ever hearing the word, senescence, and I think it sounds a hell of a lot better than the totally annoying, abrasive, constantly overused word “aging”, that seems to be coming at me at all angles, these days. Doesn’t Senescence Home sound like somewhere you’d actually want to got to, versus “Old Age Home”? Even “Anti-Senescence Cream” makes me want to put the cream back on the shelf, saying to myself, “Maybe I actually want some senescence. It sounds mysterious, sensual and sophisticated.”

Us second half adulters have earned our senescence, which to me, seems to really mean “the essence of sense.” We have so much sense now that we have matured, that we have lengthened the word “sense”, to “senescence”. I’m proud of my hard-earned senescence.

word genius likes to give you fun little facts about the “word of the day”. Today we read that tortoises have what is called negligible senescence, meaning that with proper care and exercise, tortoises can live indefinitely. I think that I might come out with a whole new skin care line. (because we don’t have enough of these products, right Ulta? Ha!) I will call it “Tortoiseshell Luxury Shield Cream – for elegant people who only want to experience negligible senescence.” Anyone offering seed money for this promising enterprise?!?

Hanging or Holding

I am sure that I have written about this before, but it is so striking to me that the first half of adulting seems to be so much about building things up, attaining, creating and while there is still some of that momentum going on in the second half of adulting, a new, greater emphasis seems to be on the “letting go.”

One of my meditations this morning talked about the difference between perseverance (hanging in there) and just holding on. When we are just desperately “holding on”, sometimes we are not letting go of a situation or a person or a lifestyle or a job title, etc., that has long passed its expiration date. That’s not perseverance. This type of holding on can turn to desperation, and an inability to move on with our lives.

Anne Wilson Schaef writes this:

“Perseverance is continuing to work at something for as long as there is value in working at it. Perseverance is being appropriately related to ourselves, the situation, and others involved. It is the commitment to seeing something through to completion and the ability to recognize when the completion has been reached.”

I think a lot of us are really good at the stubborn, “dog-on-a-bone”, toughly hanging on, aspect of perseverance, but the understanding when the time has come to let go, is actually the much harder part for many of us. We have been taught not to be quitters, and to always have hope. But I think sometimes we are confused between the real conclusion to something, versus the happy ending that we are deeply attached to, in our minds. Or, sometimes, coming to an ending of something is difficult for us because it is just our individual time of conclusion, in a particular happening – kind of like the passing of a baton, in a long race. It is hard to comprehend that when we are a part of something, that we won’t necessarily always be the ones to see it through to the end, if there really even is a true ending. We have a hard time seeing ourselves as just one part of a long story or journey or adventure. We fear missing out.

It’s interesting to me that when we are blessed enough to reach the second half of our adulting, a time when we have hopefully gained a lot of experience, and the wisdom that comes from all that experience, life shows us that sometimes the hardest lessons often aren’t about the determination to attain something. The dedication to achieve a worthy experience of living, and the moxie, and the stamina, and the steadfastness it takes to even make it to our second halves, while all very important, has all been building to what is sometimes the biggest challenge of all. The hardest lesson, that which we have prepared for, with all of this spunk and all of this persistence, is really the ability to know when a particular lesson, experience, and/or adventure in life, has been exhausted of all that it was meant to teach us. It has been wrung out and we have to take the exit sign, on to our next, new journey. The upside of this, is that we can transfer our hard-earned perseverance to our new focuses in life. When we allow ourselves to surrender to the conclusion of an old adventure, we realize that the immense relief that we feel, frees up new, vital energy that we can put towards new, exciting adventures, making us feel more alive than ever. And, at this second half stage of the game, we now have the wisdom and confidence of knowing that we have the perseverance to see the new experience through to its end, and we also have the knowing that we have the strength to let “it” go, once that ending has arrived for us.

Relics of a By-Gone Time

I’m so sorry that I haven’t been posting early, the last couple of days. I would like to pretend that it is because I am so enthralled with the seminars my son’s university has put together for us parents during the freshman orientation, but that would be a lie. Since my son is attending the same university that his older brothers have attended, I could honestly run some of the parent seminars myself. I have the slogans and fight songs memorized and I don’t need another campus tour. So, instead of attending the refresher courses this morning, my husband and I escaped to a quaint little historical nearby town, about 20 minutes away from campus. This town is known for its history and its antiquities, not for its WiFi connections. I cannot pretend that I found that fact to be entirely disappointing. This was one of those towns that really did feel like a movie set, a movie set dedicated to a different era – a time period when everything was slower paced, so slow-paced that it was like the town had decided to stand still and stay a while, swinging on the porch, as everything and everyone surrounding it, sped into the future at high-tech, warp speeds.

I wandered into one intriguing shop and got to talking with the owner, a lovely, dignified woman, who told me that she had owned and run the shop for 39 years. Her shop was “a feast for the eyes” and even though it was crammed full of things, she had so thoughtfully and so tastefully displayed everything, that it felt like you were walking through a perfectly restored story book. You started out in a lovely, aromatic garden section, walked through a festive Christmas village, wound around into an old-timey Americana rustic display of antiques and relics that still retained their original charm and now commanded prices ten times more than their original costs, and finally ended up in a corner of delightful Halloween decorations. This holiday corner almost managed to put the Christmas town to shame. The Halloween section was unbelievable, not at all kitschy, even with its bright, glittering orange trinkets covering the walls and the ceiling, from every imaginable angle.

“You really have an eye,” I told the owner. “I wish that I could make Halloween look like this, in my home . . . if it did, I would probably keep the decorations up, all year long, it’s that pretty!”

“Oh, it’s easy. You just need a lot of cute stuff,” she said modestly.

“No, usually a lot of stuff looks like a garbled, cluttered mess, but you make it look like a sensible, beautiful pattern,” I insisted.

She sighed. “You are right. I couldn’t teach any young ladies to do this anymore. They aren’t interested. These types of stores are soon to be relics of the past.”

I wanted to assure her that she was wrong, even as I sheepishly thought about how much of my own shopping habits have changed over the years. I probably shop for at least 80 percent of my purchases online and have them conveniently delivered right to my front door. The shop owner and I talked some more and I opened up to her about playing hooky from parent orientation. I admitted to this perfectly lovely stranger that I was growing out of the occupation (motherhood) that had been my major purpose in life, for over 23 years, and that I was struggling to find my next thing.

“That’s a hard stage. It’s hard when things come to a close,” the shop owner sighed again. We looked at each other knowingly, kindly, comfortingly. And then I purchased a beautiful Christmas ornament, fashioned from antique porcelain which was dressed up with a bow that the owner admitted that she had added to it, because her discerning eye knew that it was the bow that was the needed, magical touch. She wrapped my ornament carefully in beautiful colored tissue paper, and placed it gently in a brightly colored bag. And then, as I reluctantly left the unique and charming store, a store that reflected the love and creativity of the owner who nourished it, she smiled at me as she followed behind me. Then, she hesitantly turned the sign, the attractive sign hanging on the front door of the store, the sign adorned with a delicate, carefully considered ribbon of rope, to . . . Closed.

Loosening of A Strand

I’m at my third child’s freshman orientation for college. So obviously, this is not my first rodeo. In fact, he is attending the same large, wonderful university that his two elder brothers attended, so this is really not my first rodeo. In some ways, I feel comforted. I know what to expect in many regards. I know that while our relationship will definitely change, he won’t disappear on me. In some ways, our relationship will mature and ripen in wonderful ways, with a mutual adult respect and a curiosity to get to know each other on a more personal, level playing field. We’ll discover things about each other, that for years was kept under the wraps of more parental guidance and authority, than he will need now.

Still, every child is unique. Anyone who believes that a child is a “blank slate” doesn’t have multiple children or is too blind to see the swirling, beautiful, utterly unique energy and soul, that is encapsulated in the body of each and every child. That soul just needs to be nurtured, loved and coached out – certainly not painted over with forced, blind, uniform expectations. And because every child is unique, every relationship that you have with each of your children, is unique and special and sacred.

I have raised four children. I carry four strands. And today marks the day that I have to let go of my tight grip on one of my unique, beautiful strands. I have to loosen the string and let it wind out to new directions, directions that will no longer be in my control. I have enough experience in this territory now, to not fear the loosening so much. In fact, I’m excited to follow the strand from time to time, to see where it is going, now, almost entirely in the care of my wonderful, capable son’s direction.

One Year Anniversary

Today is a very special day at Adulting – Second Half. Today is the one year anniversary of this blog. One year ago, I started this blog on a whim (and honestly, probably my way to process some grief). My husband and I had just dropped our eldest son at his first adult apartment, about to embark on his first, real adult job. He was officially off of our payroll, and officially at the beginning of a whole new path for himself, a path in which we would now be mostly bystanders and adoring fans, waving from the sidelines. I realized, particularly in that moment, that I was nearing the end of a major path in my own life. My Adulting – First Half had been on this wide path of child rearing, focused on raising our four children to independence, for a long while now. The path has sometimes been smooth, sometimes rocky, and up and down hills and mountains. The path has been sometimes clear with breath-taking views of gorgeous horizons. The path has sometimes been foggy and the path has even run into some big storms, here and there. Even still, my Adulting – First Half road has been a beautiful, miraculous journey, a path that I have never regretted taking.

My eldest son had reached our united path’s finish line and our three other children, dutifully always following their eldest brother, like “ducks in a row” (as I have always insisted), are nearing that finish line at a clip pace, as well. And therefore, so am I.

I want you to know how grateful I am, to all of you, for your support, your kindness and your validation, as I have dared to take steps into my new path, my Adulting – Second Half path. In some ways, I suspect that this path is a path that will help me to find ways back to parts of myself that I had long forgotten even existed. And that is scary and exciting, all at the same time. The best part of writing this blog, is the realization that as I embark on a new path in life, and probably at lot of little side paths and stop offs along the way, I am not alone. None of us are alone. Thank you for being such a beautiful, comforting reminder of that fact.

With heads held high, and hearts wide open, forward march . . . . . .

Small Corrections

“When you wait until momentum is well underway before you are aware that you are moving in the direction that you don’t want to go, sometimes the momentum is too strong and so that negative momentum just has to play itself out. But . . . .There is always another opportunity to direct your thoughts and accomplish momentum in the direction of things that you do want.” – Esther Hicks

My daughter got her driver’s license permit earlier this spring. She and my husband (driving lessons have always fallen under my husband’s “list of familial duties”; the experience of our kids learning to drive, wreaks such havoc on my nerves that I am more likely to cause an accident, than to teach the kids to prevent one) will soon be “all-in”, with my husband teaching my daughter the driving skills that she will need to get her safely to where she wants to go. These lessons will get her motor-motor skills to a certain precision level, in which my husband and I won’t have to hold our breaths, every time she drives somewhere, until she comes home. I remember when I learned how to drive, my dad had to keep emphasizing to me, that driving is really a series of “small corrections”, instead of big swerves or trying to change lanes instantly. This lesson came to mind recently, as girlfriends and I were discussing the changes and sometimes tumult, summertime can bring to family life.

By middle age, we all have hopefully matured to a level where we have tried to hone our communication skills. We have learned to be better listeners. We have made the effort to become more self-aware and to find healthy ways to understand and express our needs and concerns while empathizing with the fact that others’ needs and concerns must be considered, as well. But sometimes . . . . sometimes all of that learning, and all of that practicing, and all of that patience, goes flying out the window, and momentum kicks in, and like a horrified spectator, we see ourselves moving into the “no turning back zone”, where we act and react emotionally, forcefully, and sometimes even, slightly out of control.

That’s why it is so key in life to have a circle of friends, with similar lives, who can validate your experience, laugh along with your stories in a knowing way which makes you feel less freakish and alone, and to remind you that you can “bring it back to center”. You can get centered because you have the long practiced skills, and these good friends always remind you, that it is all going to be okay.

Summer, in all of its fabulous-ness, requires a fair amount of adjustment. Schedules change. There is a lot more free time. It’s really, really hot outside. Kids away at school are suddenly home again, but in the habit of living their own rhythms, which are not often on the same circadian rhythms as their parents. If you go at this seasonal adjustment, with small corrections – kind, but assertive reminders of expectations and requests, the adjustment may not be seamless, but it is often painless. However, many times in summertime, with everyone going in many different, random-by-the-day directions, and then all of the sudden, coming together into very close, sweaty quarters, like small summer rental cottages, or cars full of people and luggage, all that pent-up emotion, and unspoken frustration comes out like a long-dormant volcano, and the eruption is shocking to everyone, even to the erupt-or(s). But as the above quote reminds us, once the eruption is over, once the lava has cooled, we have the ability to change the momentum. We can change the momentum to a positive outlook, newly cleared air, and a reminder to make small corrections, so that the momentum does not build to create another Vesuvius-like eruption. One major display of fireworks is good enough, for any particular summer.

I Wish All Days

I wish all days felt as happy and cheerful as the days when you bring home a new puppy.

I wish all days felt as cozy as the days that are so snowy or rainy, you have no choice but to wrap yourself up in a blanket and relax and read.

I wish all days felt as safe as the days when all of the people, who you love the most, are right under your roof, happily chattering away and doing their thing.

I wish all days felt as deliciously anticipatory as the days you are expecting the delivery of an interesting package.

I wish all days felt as hilarious, as the days when you read, see or hear something so funny that you laugh so hard, so much that it hurts, or you even pee your pants a little.

I wish all days felt as wondrous as that first day of vacation in a new place that you have never been before, and this place is entirely different than anything you have ever seen or have experienced.

I wish all days felt as satisfactory and full of relief, as the days that a job is completed, and it is completed well, to everyone’s delight.

I wish all days felt as exciting as the days you get a job offer or a college acceptance or you make the team or get a part in the play.

I wish all days felt as miraculous and full of relief as the days you hear that you, or a loved one, are completely healed from a serious illness or medical emergency.

I wish all days felt as comfortable and relaxing and full of acceptance, as the days when you have a long lunch with dear, long-time friends.

I wish all days felt as delicious as the days when you really, really savor eating something especially scrumptious, without any guilt or hesitation.

I wish all days felt as magical as the days when it all seems to come together – you look good, you feel good, you do good and you have all of the right words.

I wish all days felt as luxurious as the days, when all you did was love and cuddle your babies, and smell their precious little heads.

I wish all days felt as satisfying as the days when you achieve a physical goal and you feel pride in that accomplishment, in every fiber of your being, physical, mental and spiritual.

I wish all days felt as easy and whimsical as the unscheduled days on our calendars.

I wish all days felt as mystically reassuring as the days you find a lucky penny.

I wish all days felt as sexy as when you have those “lost in your lover’s eyes” moments that seem to convey everything that words cannot convey.

When I looked at my “I wish all days” list, I experienced the very feelings that I was writing about, all over again. So I guess that I am having one of those fabulous days of feeling cheerful, cozy, safe, anticipatory, amused, wondrous, luxurious, satisfied, excited, grateful to God, accepted, satiated, magical, proud, whimsical, reassured and sexy. In fact, I felt all of those feelings in the hour that it took me to write the list. I experienced all of those wonderful feelings in just one hour! I highly recommend that you write your own “I wish all days” list and give yourself the gift of a lot of positive energy and possibility, all in about 1/24th of your day. And then, when some negativity starts seeping in, read your list to yourself, and you can feel all of those terrific feelings, in just a few minutes. Try it. It works.