I’ve decide, at 4 AM, when I was lying very still wishing away the need to potty, because I am way to young to be trekking to the potty at 4 AM every night, but apparently I am not as young as I like to believe, that it’s not really the empty nest that bothers me. No, I think me and The Mister will find plenty to do to stay busy. In fact, it bordered on poor parenting when I called him Thursday morning and this was the conversation;
Me: Well I got Baby Girl off to school for the last time
Mister: Uh huh
ME: It really made me sad that my baby is a senior and then she’ll be gone.
Mister: Uh huh
Me: Do you care that I’m sad? Are you sad?
Mister: You’ll be fine and I’m not sad
Me: ( insert 20 minute rant on children, parenting, and my diminishing usefulness as a mother and his lack of alarm that our children are growing up and leaving us)
Mister: Baby, they are both still at home, STILL.
Me: Yes, but when they leave, will you be sad a little?
Mister: No not a little, I am glad it will be just you and me. We are gonna to have fun.
It’s not the empty nest at all.
It’s holding my breath and watching them that’s hard. There comes a time when you release them. Certainly nothing more pathetic than a full-grown bird being fed by its mother……
It’s realizing that it is exceptional quiet in the morning, no one looking for a shoe or PE shorts, no arguing over who gets the last Little Debbie’s and who gets the apple in their lunch. With that quiet comes the realization that even though you are still a mother, there is very little mothering going on in this season.
It’s realizing that even though your babies are grown, you arms sometimes ache to rock a wee one. I miss mothering. I miss the bossiness, the unfettered love. I miss the kisses on sweaty heads and the slamming doors. I miss signing permission slips and chatter at the dinner table.
It’s not so much the empty nest, I have plenty to fill my time. I just miss mothering. I try to mother The Mister, but he is resistant to my bossiness and I find that it works better to be a lover, than a mother with him. I try to mother the puppies and that helps immensely, but I miss the conversations, the “Mama, guess what?”
So I find myself looking for something, someone to mother. I will find it. I always do. Isn’t that what we do? We mother.