The Stages of Empty Nest Grief

Nug's first day of 1st grade. My photo doctoring skills could go back to school too.

Our alphabet train puzzle was nearly complete when my phone started buzzing from across the room. "I'll just ignore that," I thought, not wanting to take my attention away from Cookie. We had one more hour before Nug would finish her first day of school, and after a summer of sharing everything, including me, I wanted to give Cookie a few more moments of focused time. But when my phone started buzzing again, I grew suspicious. I walked over and scrolled through to voicemail. "Hello, it's Ms. M," I listened, my heart ticking up a beat as I registered the voice of the first grade teacher. "I have Nug with me, today was early dismissal day. Maybe you forgot? She's ready for pick up. She will be waiting in the office or with me in the classr..." I didn't wait to hear the rest. CRAP! I am forty-five minutes late picking up my kid on the first day of school.

Thankfully, Nug was fine. "You were just a few minutes late," she chirped when I flew into the classroom, out of breath with a shoeless Cookie on my hip. I apologized, dying to pull her close and squeeze the whole thing away, but she was busy organizing her new classroom and, basically, beaming with energy. W flew in a moment later; the office had called her too. Later that night, W and I had a talk. We both felt positively awful. The truth of the matter was it was such a wonderful summer: camp trips, the annual migration to see family, and all of our local adventures, that getting into the routine of school was, well, the last thing on our minds. I had sent W to Target, for example, the night before school began to buy a backpack. And starting the first day of school in the middle of the week, and with early dismissal... it was apparently more detail than we could assimilate. Sigh.

******

So a month has now passed and I am the FIRST PERSON in the entirety of the school to arrive for pick up. Cookie and I are there, atoning in the 90 degree heat, for at least twenty minutes every day. That, and I don't yet know what to do with myself with Nug gone until 3:12pm. Despite my years of desperation to have a moment to myself... to read a magazine, go to yoga, clean up the spare bedroom... here I am, with both kids in school, and utterly lost. It is all of a sudden too quiet and too lonely.

Never known for my patience, I want this all figured out ASAP. But only time, and maybe Chardonnay, will sort it out. In the interim I can a) blog about it and b) inappropriately apply Dr. Kubler-Ross' stages of grief to personalize my "empty nest" experience. *There is actually a thing called "Empty Nest Syndrome." I don't think it applies, however, to being alone for six hours a week, so I'm striking out with my own model.

Me, my brother, and my parents circa 1981. Nug & Cookie are about the same age as we are here! My mom made (yes, made) our outfits and hers. And she survived the empty nest. My hero.

The Five Stages of Slightly Empty Nest Grief

Stage One: Denial

See above (being late on the first day of school! 😩). 

Stage Two: Anger Making Lists

At this stage I began to fill the void by making charts, because sitting quietly or doing just one task at a time was so foreign that it felt meaningless. My lists included: workout calendar, kids' breakfast calendar, kids' lunch calendar, house repair list, school volunteer calendar, and cleaning schedule. Ok, so maybe I didn't try to fill the void as much as suffocate it. I made sure that if I didn't know where to turn in my idleness, a list could tell me what to do. After a couple of weeks of "consultation," aka staring inertly at a list and feeling like an underachiever, I realized the irony of my self-imposed oppression. I had traded the demands of two kids for those of six brightly-colored, annoying sheets of paper. This felt about as good as a forced diet. Moving on.

Left: oppressive list. Right: improved, list of mere suggestions

Stage Three: Bargaining Shopping (online and otherwise)

If I wasn't going to get anything done on my lists, well, then, I might as well go shopping. I mean, duh! (yo people, can I get a hell ya!). It started innocently enough when I had to get my fingerprints done and whaddya know? I was next door to Thrift Town! Back to school is a totally legit reason to spend money, right? An hour later I came home with a t-shirt and two Disney princess costumes (for Cookie, not me). From my thrifting I then stumbled upon Postmark. I know I'm late to the game, but o-m-g, it's a thrift store without the search and, well, the smell! I found my new favorite mom jeans for $9, delivered to my door! Cool. But, alas, there's only so much room in my house and money in my pocket and loneliness I want to endure, even for $9 jeans. My shopping frenzy had a ceiling, and I reached it. 

Stage Four: Depression Yoga with Friends

Yoga yoga yoga. It's so beneficial and available and yet so seemingly indulgent and time-consuming. Class attendance would mean putting my lists down! And I was pretty busy with my new friend, Poshmark. I had so many things to do, I couldn't slow down now. But after a couple of weeks of this aimless mania, and with some nudging from a friend, I knew it was time for professional help. I needed to chill the f- out, so I booked a 75 minute yoga class. It was the right decision immediately and I knew weekly yoga needed to be in my life. That was until...

Stage Five: Acceptance Catch a Cold & Start Blogging

Just in the knick of time, my body said basta. Enough. The back-to-school plague came a knockin' and down I went with body aches, a cough, and runny nose. Forced rest. Cancelled went my 6am workout class. Idle went the kitchen and my regular weekend food prep. And getting by on the minimum (= kids watching TV so I can close my eyes) felt like a huge achievement. And what do you know? The minimum felt... good-- no--- great! I rested. I picked up writing on this blog. I reflected on my six year journey of staying home to raise two kids from which I had recently been granted a small reprieve, and which I was totally blowing. 


I am SO proud of my children. I often hear about how sweet and kind Cookie is, and how inclusive and social Nug is. They are thriving at school. I have earned and deserve some time to kick back and rest. And maybe, dare I say... recover?! I may stumble atop these newly independent legs, but heck, I've got A WHOLE six hours a week to practice. So, hand me a book and wake me up by noon. 😴

Let's get to relaxing! Camping Aug 2017