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This empty nest has a revolving door

May 20, 2008
By Gale Hammond

Shopping for a birthday card the other day I had a tough time finding one due to the humongous graduation displays that retailers exhibit this time of year. It was a bombardment of your standard grad paraphernalia: cards, party invitations, T-shirts, mugs, coasters, calendars, pennants, and possibly garter belts commemorating that most magnificent time of life - the day Mom and Dad reclaim a closet.

Yes, it's supposed to be about the graduate. But if your offspring is leaving for college, you might just as well admit it: you've been salivating over that child's bedroom for years. However, not wanting to appear completely callous by ripping through said bedroom the night of commencement exercises intent on hauling away old bunk beds and "Star Wars" sheets, you control yourself by starting modestly: in the closet. De-cluttering a closet of its stray tennis rackets with missing strings, top secret notes from former best friends, tarnished cheerleading trophies with broken pom-poms, a ski boot in pristine condition (the other one having been MIA for years), random t-shirts laminated together by fossilized peanut butter and jelly sandwiches - gives you a whopping good start on some extra storage space. And you won't bear the slightest resemblance to the pitiless parent who whips out a new guest room before the fragrance of gym shoes has even started to fade.

I am telling you this because it is critical - I repeat, critical - that the graduate's room remain identical to how it looked when he or she held occupancy because (trust me) you will never hear the end of it if the baby bunny wallpaper has been replaced with some sleek new paint job even if it was all but personally recommended by Ralph Lauren. No matter how great the new look, the sulking you'll endure (because they do venture home now and then) just isn't worth it.

Now I admit that when my two daughters were growing up I looked longingly at all that floor space languishing beneath smelly socks, petrified M&Ms, and forgotten homework assignments. I'd run my hand lovingly along the doorframe thinking, "Someday, this will be all mine." Then one night I woke up with a strange feeling deep in the pit of my stomach. In a cold sweat I shook my spouse. "Wake up!!" I gasped. "Do you realize that pretty soon the girls will be grown up and gone?" I was a mess; an inconsolable wreck. "Go back to sleep," growled my heartless husband. "The girls are 12 and 8; they'll be around a few more years."

Nevertheless, that was the beginning of my personal empty nest syndrome. Suddenly I realized that time flowed in only one direction. So I busied myself with other things; I went back to work, found new hobbies, hung out at the mall. Anything to take the edge off. And I thought I had it beat, too; I was more than a mom; I was a fully evolved human being. When my little birds left the nest, I wouldn't miss a beat. And since my daughters were born four years apart, Daughter #1 would leave for college and Daughter #2 would still be hanging around for nearly half a decade - a nice little insurance policy against the inevitable empty nest. Piece of cake.

Of course this is me we're talking about so nothing went according to plan. Daughter #1 delayed the unavoidable for a few years by attending community college locally before transferring to Arizona to finish her degree. Arizona!! A whole other state! I was a pathetic mess when she left. Lying prone and sobbing on her bed one day, clutching her stash of Beanie Babies to my chest, I knew I had to pull myself together; after all, there was still one offspring left at home. I'd pull off my remaining "Mom" role in style, lavishing my daughter with the best all-out parenting one could imagine. I'd be the Martha Stewart of motherhood. I'd make my youngest so happy she'd never want to leave home. She'd be an old maid with lots of cats and…oh, man; there was just nothing easy about this mothering business.

Then a new crisis. My youngest wanted to go away to college, too - right after graduation! Oh, this was too cruel. My little insurance policy was applying to schools away from home. I mean - my stretch marks had hardly healed for the love of God! But there we were at summer's end, unloading my crushingly too young baby girl at college to languish in a dumpy dorm with a lumpy bed and crummy cafeteria food.

Another month of moping ensued. Missing my youngest, I wondered how I ever duped myself into believing this was going to be easy. Others became aware of my suffering. My friend Rosemary brought me a bottle of champagne festively tied with curly, colored ribbons. "To celebrate your empty nest," she announced cheerily. When it appeared that I might hit her over the head with the bottle she amended quickly, "and to save in the fridge for, ummm…if you feel like drinking it."

Yet the years flew and I adjusted. At times it even felt good cooking dinner without all the constraints of my two female progeny's likes and dislikes. And there was certainly nothing to miss about lying awake praying for the familiar sound of a daughter's key in the front door. Nope - what I didn't know wasn't hurting me.

Then suddenly the tide shifted. Daughter #2 was transferring back home to finish college. Back to her old room, except her "old room" was now her father's office, leaving her with the spare bedroom near the garage. Yes, we committed the cardinal sin of transforming her bedroom; I'm still not sure if she ever forgave us.

Finally, degree in hand, off she went again, and these days it's my spouse and me and the dog. Moreover it looks like it might just stay that way. And to think - it all started with graduation. Hmmm, I wonder - do you think that champagne in the back of my refrigerator is still good?

Gale Hammond
Gale Hammond is a writer and freelance photographer who has lived in Morgan Hill 24 years. Reach her at GaleHammond@aol.com.