I’ve commenced empty nesting… and my children are only 8 and 10.
My mum collected the girls on Sunday to whisk them away for the school holiday fun at her house. Think blueberry picking, beach going, imagination exploring, democratic votes for activities and dinner options, and an entire zoo in her backyard. Alright, the zoo is make-believe, but to the girls, its as real as Grandma is, and she eggs them on without hesitation. Lord, sometimes she even calls them to provide updates on recent escapes, births and illness of the animals…that aren’t really is. It’s quite sweet, really. I didn’t have that relationship with any of my grandparents, and it’s so special the girls have such an indulgent, caring and fun-loving Grandma. Actually, she’s also lucky to have them to call upon for kiddie fun and doting opportunities.
It will be a total of 2 days until I see them again, and it’s been long enough already (30hrs at the time I write this) for me. Not because I need to always be present in their lives, and trust me, they don’t need me right now, they need time with Grandma in her house, living large in her special ways. It’s because my life feels weirdly empty without them interrupting my conversations, getting shirty at me for asking them to complete their chores, and my personal favourite when they become small human transformers, changing from a lanky frame to a pliable ball of cuddles in no time.
It’s not the first time that I’ve felt a sense of aimlessness rom my world since they came along. In fairness, it existed well before them. Before I was a mother, I was also ‘Looking For Something To Do Lauren’. Not quite locked into a hobby fulltime, and not quite sure where to send my energy and attention elsewhere.
It’s where I’m at today. In fact, this morning, after the most peaceful coffee I’ve had in the past 11 years, shared with my main man from our deck, taking in the view on a quite country morning, I looked across at him and thought “Jeez”! How the heck are we going to handle it when they just don’t bug us at all. How will we handle this peace and quiet if it is here all the time!?
Out of nowhere, but somewhere post caffeine, it occurred to me how tough that transition of parenting child into adulthood must be. That as parents we go from the endless backchat our kids offer, to the rude silence that sits on the other side once they are gone… with merely an occasional phone call (hopefully) to fill the gap.
As I wondered out loud whether we would be satisfied with the not frequent enough contact from them as young adults, the situation smacked me right in the face. Proper wet fish smacking, not gentle theatre fake slaps. My happiness cannot be so heavily harnessed to them. It can’t be. They will leave. They will up and go and live amazing lives in towns and countries afar if they so desire, and I want them to.
But at what cost? What happens when your purpose as a parent walks out the door? And all that time and effort you needed to apply, all that stamina you built up over the past 18+ years just exists with no direction for output?
I know what you’re all saying as you read this…parenting doesn’t stop when they leave. I know that. I’m talking about the mental load we carry on their behalf, the taxiing around, the organising, the feeding, the cuddles, the talks, and the everything else.
It’s actually exhausting me just to think about it.
But it’s the same old, right? Read my first ever blog. It’s the same story from a different angle. Endlessly reminding the mum in the picture you are more than your role as a mother, so what are you going to do with your life? What do you care about? What do you want? What will do you? Circle back 11 years after this blog started, to that age old lesson of needing to find myself. Sigh. God, it’s bloody exhausting. I’m right here… but where am I? Ugh.
I tell you what has changed in that time? Me! (Obvs). More than ever before, I bring my unapologetic, authentic self as often as I can. I know my worth. I don’t apologise for my presence and I use my time to learn and be increasingly kind, respectful and careful to check my privilege. I know when to speak, when to stop, when to take control and when to be the passenger. I know how to build people and support my loved ones and I am not ashamed to let them know when I’m lost. I know how to bake a bloody brilliant sourdough and how to cook from the heart to nourish those I care deeply for. I don’t know myself some days, but I embrace those days as learning opportunities and am often surprised with what I can do when I strip away my own restrictions. I dance like no one is watching, even when my whole family are. I laugh with my friends and even more at myself. I am, most of the time, a great person to have in your back pocket, and I will have your back fiercely. I like, perhaps even love, myself.
And there’s many more things I’d like to try, explore, focus on and achieve in life, so I suppose I should use this reflective state to start dreaming big. I’m going to pretend like there are no restrictions and no limits, no holds and nothing off limits. I’ll use this time to start planning my life – both for the current day and for ten years’ time when the girls start flying out of the nest and I’m looking for things to turn my attention to and spend energy on.
And if I’ve learnt anything over the past 11 year since I started this blog… when I set myself a challenge and name it out loud, I achieve it in big and bold ways. And my children sit up and notice. They see a mum who sets outrageous goals and challenges, and gives it her all. They see a mum who knows her strengths and plays to them, but also takes on the near impossible to prove it can be done. I hope one day, they remember all of these moments, and my failures, and know that more than anything, their mum shows up and goes hard and is brave, even when she’s afraid.
Because even as I focus more on me right now, I’m still endlessly thinking of them.
Ciao for now,
LG - Life’s good!
I am crying!
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