Empty Nests and Other Annoyances

Sunrise, sunset. Swiftly fly the years…

I remember the first year my daughter had swim lessons. She was three, an only child since her brother hadn’t been born yet. I remember taking her to the community pool, holding her hand as we walked through the gate, and then turning her over to her swimming teacher. The pool staff required that parents make a speedy exit, that we deposit our children at poolside and quickly head back to the main building where we could stand and watch at the big windows. Long goodbyes were frowned upon.

For the first time in her young life, I was letting someone outside my family, outside my circle of trusted friends, take care of her. I didn’t know her teacher, a bubbly college student. This young woman was now responsible for keeping my girl safe in the water. I had to surrender. When it was my daughter’s turn to jump from the side of the pool into her teacher’s arms, she did so without hesitation. I was so proud of her. Her world was suddenly bigger, with new people, new experiences. It was exactly right, exactly how it was supposed to be, but it also broke my heart a little.

This is the story of parenting, isn’t it? From the very beginning, our children are supposed to move away from us. We carefully snuggle them in the Baby Bjorn carrier backwards, then are surprised, but happy for them, when one day they are suddenly big enough to face forward, to see more of the world. Soon, they grow out of the carriers all together. That was another parenting milestone for me: the day my children were too big to fit in the Baby Bjorn anymore. Part of me would’ve kept them there forever. But they would have none of it. Soon, they were walking and running. By the time they were in kindergarten, both my kids could run faster than me.

We send our children off  to school when the time is right, and they learn things. Lots of things, many of which I have somehow forgotten. By the time my children were in eighth grade, they were doing math problems that I couldn’t help them with anymore. (I’ve also had the unfortunate experience of feeling confused when I substituted recently for a third grade class. They were doing double digit multiplication problems, but the method for solving included drawing lots of little square boxes, something I wasn’t familiar with. So I had to do it the way I knew, which was maybe not so helpful for them.)

Lucky for my children, their father was good at math and many complicated school things. Also their teachers, of course. They had the best teachers. Their knowledge exploded in high school. They took advanced calculus, advanced chemistry, advanced history. By the time they graduated, they knew so much.

During high school, they also made good friends. We all know that friends can be problematic. They have a lot of influence. Some of this influence is positive; some, not so much. There’s not much we can do as parents about the friends our kids make. They made good choices about their friends, though. My daughter started a hiking club and led friends out into the wilderness. With a beloved teacher, they even went on an overnight backpacking trip to Yosemite. My son joined the high school’s Model United Nations Club and excelled.

At all those milestones, I stood beside them and cheered.

Anne Lamott says that “you can’t run alongside your grown children with sunscreen and ChapStick on their hero’s journey.”

Truth.

My daughter is 22 now and recently graduated from college with a degree in Environmental Science. I think those early backpacking and hiking trips were an integral part of her falling in love with the natural world. She is spending the summer doing an internship up on the Oregon Coast where she chases butterflies for much of the day.  She’s learning that chasing butterflies is a genuine workout, since they fly uphill quite quickly, and don’t love being caught and released, although they are not harmed in the process, and the work she is doing will hopefully help their survival. My son will head off to college next month. He’s majoring (for now) in Global Studies. Clearly, his Model United Nations Club had an impact on him, too.

My children’s movement out into the big world caused me stress over the years. I remember following my son around on the play structure across the street from our house when he was little, terrified that he would hurt himself. While I knew my daughter could grab the pole and slide down like a firefighter, he might toddle along behind her and could fall and break his arm.  Or land on his head. Thankfully, that never happened.  But it’s because I followed him around, and around, and around, right? That was my role as his mom. To keep him safe.

That’s not my role anymore. I held them as long as I could. But off into the world they go. They have their own way to make now.

I guess I do, too. Even if I’m not sure I’m ready for it. I will still be here, though. Will always be here. Watching from the sidelines. Holding my breath. Cheering them on. Surrendering.