Empty Nest (Anne Stuart)

My nest is in the midst of emptying. Tim arrived in New Zealand yesterday, readying for two and half months of hiking, sea kayaking, testing himself and having the trip of his life. He's doing the NOLS (National Outdoor Leadership School) Semester in New Zealand, and he's been looking forward to it for years. In the meantime, though, he's going to be out of touch for months, and we won't see him again till December 22. Talk about a mother having to let go!

And my darling Kate is heading off for San Francisco tomorrow, to attend the Art Institute of California. She gets to live in an apartment right on the edge of Japantown, learn how to design video games, and she's going to have the time of her life. She's a city girl, even though she spent her first 19 years in a town of 700. I know she's going to love it -- she's been ace-ing her online courses, she talented and brilliant. But she's going to be gone as well.

Even my husband, the fabulous Richie, will be gone for the next five days, taking her out there and getting her settled. (My knee is too bad for me to go -- I'd be more of a hindrance than a help). So I'm going to have 5 days of solitude, dealing with the fact that my kids are finally grown.

Maybe I'll dance around the house in my underwear. Or maybe not.

It's bittersweet -- the teenage years were so full of angst that I never want to go through it again. Either their's or mine. But I'm a helicopter parent -- I hover, ready to swoop in and rescue, and I'm not going to be able to do that any more. Kate will be across the country, Tim will be across the world. They're ready to be on their own.

And so am I. I think. Most of my life has been about motherhood -- I wanted babies since I was old enough to know what they were. I went through hell to get them -- infertility treatments with nasty instruments and very big needles . And then when they were finally born a part of my brain has always been reserved for them. Worrying, loving them, defending them, supporting them.
I don't have to do that any more. (Well, the loving thing is a no-brainer). But I finally have to let go and let god, and that's always been hard for me. I tend to think the world can't function without me watching over everything.

But my kids will function very well -- in fact, they'll thrive. And Richie and I will function very well -- we still happen to adore each other after thirty-three years of marriage.

But I still expect to spend most of tomorrow crying. (I cried when I checked the internet sight for Qantas and found Tim had finally taken off).
I just don't want to spend my five days crying.

So those of you who've already dealt with empty nests -- what are some good ways to handle it? One thing what would help would be to turn one of the kids' bedrooms into a sewing room but both of them would be hurt and offended if I did, so those are off-limits.
And dancing around the house in my underwear is out of the question with my bad knee.

Any suggestions to ease the transition?