I’m home alone at 7:00 pm on a Saturday night, and I’m lonely.
My husband is taking our son to his 7:40 p.m. indoor lacrosse game, and our daughter is heading to a friend’s house. A decade ago, I would have been beside myself with glee. I would have thrown on my pajamas and crawled into bed with a bag of m&ms, and surrendered to the bliss of being alone.
Now, I am often alone. Both kids are out of the house by 7:00 a.m., and activities keep them out until the late afternoon. There are games to be played, races to be run, friends to see and parties to attend.
When they are at school, I’m alone but not lonely. The solitude is an opportunity for my brain to focus without being pulled in too many directions.
I only need so much solitude, and I do not need it on a Saturday night. My increased time alone is now a harbinger of my impending reality, of the emptying nest.
I used to be with my kids every waking minute, and the rare alone time was a life raft. I could climb on it and take a rest from the never-ending waves of parenting young children. While adolescence didn’t usher in constant calm, our time together became less about cutting up food and redirecting, and more about enjoying the people my children were becoming.
My oldest baby graduates from high school in weeks, and for the past ten months, I have fiercely ignored all that this means. My brain has become quite adept at refusing to acknowledge any thoughts of her leaving, but my heart does not always play along. It knows, and the tears come with no warning, prompted by triggers that have nothing to do with her going to college.
A sappy video on Facebook. The opening bars of an eighties love song. A particularly poignant episode of The Walking Dead. Being alone on a Saturday night.
I have watched all the milestones of her senior year with a tinge of disbelief. Wasn’t it just my senior year? Wasn’t she just a preschooler proudly carrying her Clifford the Big Red Dog backpack?
This is a year full of lasts, and each one one rips me open a little. I know I’m not the first mother to send a kid to college, but it’s MY first time, and I’m not sure how I’m going to do it.
I get out of the shower at 9:30 on Saturday night, and I have a text from my husband. He and our son are stopping for dinner and won’t be home for another hour.
A decade ago, I would have given myself a high five, ripped open a second bag of m&ms, and watched another episode of Will and Grace. Now, I let the tears flow, feeling like an idiot.
My heart knows what my mind has refused to believe. In three months I will send one child to college, and in three years I will send the other. The Saturday evenings without them will not be a welcome respite; they will be the norm.
As my children adjust to their new realities at college, I will have to find ways to adjust to my own. As they embrace the freedom living without their parents provides, I will learn to embrace the freedom of the empty nest. After years of constant parenting, I will have to balance the new solitude with experiences and interests that do not involve my children.
I may learn a new skill, or test the waters of the workforce. I may take up a hobby with my husband, or finally write with consistency.
By 11:00 on Saturday night, I am tucked in bed, flipping through magazines and contemplating a new Netflix binge. The tears have dried, and I am relishing the solitude instead of feeling sorry for myself.
The garage door rumbles open, and my family is home. For now, and that is enough.
I wrote this a few months ago; college is now five weeks away. I’ve been sitting on it, not sure if I wanted to share. This week’s Finish the Sentence Friday (“I see the ripple effects of…”) prompted me to post, as I reflect on the changes happening in my family over the coming year.
Great reminder about perspective. Though right now I’d like Zoe to stay sleeping in her bed all night and not come into mine and put her elbow in my stomach! Why can’t we have the best of both worlds at once? Is that unreasonable?
Not at all, Liz. I think that’s completely reasonable!
I can take being alone anywhere any time except on a Saturday night! It just feels different.
I totally agree!
Oh how I am beginning to know this feeling Dana. We long for alone time for so many years, but when it comes, we’re not sure that’s really what we wanted. My girls are also out of the house for long stretches of the day and the oldest is always with her friends or at soccer practice/games on the weekend. Thank goodness for the 5-year-old who has to keep me company! Beautiful writing. xo
Oh, Dana. There are so many people who say to enjoy the moments with the kids when they’re little. And while that’s good advice, it’s hard to hear. What you wrote here far better explains what parents of little ones (like myself) have to forward to in the future; and why it’s so difficult. As much as these past few weeks and months have been filled with lasts, try also to remember that this is a period filled with firsts, and hope, and excitement as difficult as that may be.
Change is hard. It feels like these new phases in our lives appear out of nowhere but we know, in truth, that they sneak up on us because we refuse to admit they are happening. From experience, I can tell you that all you can do is ride the wave, accept the tears, and know that you have done a great job.
I really value your experience, Mo – thank you. My word of the year is “embrace,” and that’s a bit like riding the wave, I think. I will take your advice, and maybe a tissue, too.
Aw! I’m glad you decided to share this. It is beautifully heart-wrenching! My oldest starts high school next week (eek!!!) and that is seriously twisting my emotions in all different directions. I can only imagine how I will feel when she (an the other two) are on the verge of heading off to college. It might not be easy, but you’ll be ok and you’ll find a new groove – so will she. Wish I could reach through the screen and give you a hug!
A new groove – you are exactly right, Lisa. I’ll take a virtual hug, and give you one back as your oldest heads off to (a much too early in August to begin) high school.
Dana, I am so glad you shared this. You are a fabulous writer, but THIS piece takes you to another level. It is exquisite. I had chills while I read and my eyes filled with tears. Although I cannot fathom being lonely on a Saturday night, I know it’s coming. XOXO💚
I wish you were the editor at a certain website, Allie – you would have accepted this piece! (They didn’t want it.) I’m touched that it resonated with you – thank you.
What a vulnerable piece of prose. Glad you shared it. I can’t say I understand exactly what the prospect of empty nest must feel like, but I know how loneliness can affect people so different.
Those same 80s love songs are enough to get me to tear up as well.
Ah, and the same decade…boy did I love that big red dog.
🙂
I wish you so much luck with finding out your best times yet to come, full of hobbies and new skills and lessons learned.
Thank you, Kerry. Empty nest or not, loneliness is a universal feeling. You are right – we deal with it in many different ways. And Clifford – best dog ever.
I do that too – I sit on posts, only to let them out when it seems right.
This seems right.
I’m still in that place – where young children can be so consuming – that I leap for joy when I’m alone.
I remember that feeling so clearly! I admit there is always a moment or two of glee when I find myself alone at home.
What a beautiful post about ripple effects!
Thank you!
Oh. I read this with my girl asleep on my shoulder. She’s five. She will live with me for all of her days or my own, I suppose…but still I got teary reading this. I crave that life raft of alone these days but today I felt so deeply my distraction. My distance and I had to remind myself to slow down. To appreciate her. It goes too fast.
It truly does. I don’t know where the 18 years went!
Ohhh my Dana, this made me sad for you, because I know it’s going to be such a loss and a wrench when they go, but I know that you will come back to the surface, transformed, because you’re not the type to let something with as many unknown possibilities, go to waste. It’s going to be a huge adjustment, and though I don’t want you to be sad, I think you’re right to feel it and acknowledge it and express it to its depths (you’re NOT an idiot…please don’t think that) because this is an important part of their growing up…and yours.
*HUGS* You’ll be okay. You really will be. And they…will be MORE than okay, because they have, have had, and will always have you in their corner.
Now I’m crying again! Thank you so much, Lizzi – your words of encouragement really help. I know I’ll be okay, but I will still take the offered hugs…always.
*MOREhugs* You’re awesome, Dana. I feel as though the way forward will become clear for you at the right time. Enjoy the now 🙂
You’re going to be fine, mama. At least I was with my first… The reality hit when my youngest headed off to college and I cried all of the way home from dropping him off. As soon as we got home, I was fine. I suspect you’ll be the same, and you will renew friendships that you have had to put on hold with the business of teenagers, you and your husband will be like newlyweds again with time to pay attention to each other, and you’ll finally find time to do some of the things you’ve been wanting to do for years. Hang in there; you’ve got three years to prepare yourself, and the time your son spends out of the house with friends will help prepare you for it just being you and your husband. 🙂
That’s true, Debbie. And you’re right – I think the second will be even tougher because we’ll be coming home to an empty nest. Thank you for your wise words – it helps to hear from moms who have been there.
My oldest baby starts his senior year in just a few weeks. I get it. This tore at my heart, and I completely understand.
It may sound trite, but it does help to know others understand, and that what I’m experiencing is so universal. Enjoy your baby’s senior year!
Sobbing. Because, as you know, I’m right there with you.
I do know. And we will get through it! Anytime you need to commiserate, you know where to find me.
Absolutely beautiful and touching post, Dana. I am a few years behind you, but already feeling the tug. Torn between wanting some “me time” and knowing that I will get lots of “me time” soon enough. When my youngest wants me to lay in bed with her just a few more minutes or my older one wants to stay up a little later to talk, I need to take a deep breath and enjoy them while I have them. Thanks for the reminder, and good luck with your next transition. ❤️
Thank you, Melissa. It’s just surreal – I feel like I was graduating high school just yesterday. You are wise to take a deep breath and give the girls that extra time while you can.
I’ll eat m&ms with you and probably cry a little too
It’s a date. xoxo
It will get easier. When each of my children left home, it took me about a month before the spontaneous crying stopped. Our middle daughter get married a month ago. Tears yes! But pure joy too.
Congratulations, Tammie! I know it will get easier, and I truly am so excited for my daughter. So the spontaneous crying will continue for awhile? I need a better mascara, I think.
Oh boy, I felt this one in my veins. My oldest is going to be a sophomore in the fall, and I think about that moment of letting go more than I should. Dana, you showed the anxiety of the letting go so clearly. I was right there with you alone on a Saturday night, feeling the emptiness, an emptiness we can’t imagine feeling when kids are younger, hanging on us like Velcro. Beautiful post.
Thank you Julie. My youngest is the same age as your oldest, so I know where you are. Letting go is tough, isn’t it?
Oh my gosh, yes! I’m not there yet. But the other night Abby was with a friend and the house was so QUIET. Bridget was in bed, David at work and I was alone. Just a year or so ago I would have been like YES YES YES. Instead I was thinking to myself, I miss my kid. I miss this time we have when Bridget is in bed and David at work and the two of us just hang. Instead of relishing my book, I felt sorry for myself.
Like you said, every mom goes through this but it’s your first time. So let the tears flow and open that 2nd bag of M&Ms.
You miss your kid because she’s a great kid, and you’re a great mom. I will cry and eat m&ms, and know I’m not alone!
Love
Thank you, Terry. With one grown up baby, I know you know the feelings.
Oh, Dana, this made my eyes water. I relish in my alone time now, spending so much of my days with Eve and sometimes other small children, but I know there will come a day where I feel much as you do now. That has got to be one of the toughest parts about being a parent — watching them grow up and into their own people with their own lives, and eventually leave the house. It’s a sign that you have done your job, but oh, how it must make your heart ache! <3
It does, Bev. So many mixed emotions – pride in the people they have become, excitement for the future that awaits them, and sadness for the passage of time.
Seriously as much as I know that there are times that I can’t wait for quiet and my girls to not need me as much that when it does happen, I will be heartbroken and missing these days still. And reading your words tonight made me realize that even more so as no matter how insane it can get here I still do love that I am indeed needed and wanted by my girls for now.
Enjoy every second, Janine!
FIRST.
🙂
GAH. OMG the years they go too fast. It’s true that our hearts are too long knowing what our minds know… Tucker has started saying “I want to sleep alone” and I hover, grateful for when he asks for more back tickles… OMG how did this happen. College is now and here and this was perfectly said. I started crying over an episode of Transparent (h=which I think you told me to watch btw)… OMG
Love Transparent! Although our kids are years apart in age, I always relate to your pieces of Tucker growing up and getting bigger. It’s universal for parents, isn’t it?
It really is. This made me cry – I think because it is so universal and it’s easy to picture my own house quiet on a Saturday night…You can come over here any Saturday night you want to by the way. We can drink wine and talk about how awesome being alone is. Or something… xo