Maybe Someday...

We mean it this time. We won’t miss them a bit.

Deciding to get married and start a family is often accompanied by complicated discussions. Responsible parties want to be sure all issues are brought to the table, and that there are no major surprises when it comes to where each person stands.

Yeah, right. Like we even knew what we were talking about during those discussions. Hubba and I reviewed everything we could think of before getting married, and we thought we had the kid thing down to a science by the time we started having them. The Dot came first, and we spaced T-man’s arrival according to our master plan. What we couldn’t have understood before we saw them was how completely we would love them, and how important it was to pool our resources to give them the best lives we could.

With two preschoolers we were not hobby parenting, and we could no longer remember when it was just the two of us. We briefly considered a third addition, but a quick count had us realize that we had run out of parents. We were a contented family of four; a mom, a dad, a sister, and a brother.

Everything about family life multiplied as the years progressed. Each school year added new responsibilities. There were new friends and new ideas with which to horrify Mom and Dad, and talents none of us knew we had. Dreams were discussed, hearts were broken, awards awarded, and punishments rendered. School chums stopped in and stayed for dinner or the night, and we sat with other parents at the games and speech contests. It seemed so normal that we didn’t realize how effortlessly we adjusted into each new stage.

Then pffffffft! It was over! Huh? One big party with napkins in school colors, one last trip with the minivan loaded to the gills, and it was back to Hubba and me. No more daily doses of our offspring, no more of their friends, no more parents at school events. It was just plain over.

We recognized the shell-shocked looks on the faces of some of our fellow empty nesters, as we all shook our heads in disbelief.

“That sure didn’t take very long."

“I hear ya. How are you guys doing?”

“We’re thinking of starting over.”

“As a couple?”

“No, we’re thinking about having some more kids.”

The idea had some appeal, but the thought of having kids who could legitimately call us geezers diluted our zeal.

The college years provided many opportunities for the four of us to bond as adults. We were longtime holdouts as cell phone owners, but once everyone was scattered hither and yon, having instamatic phone contact was too good to pass up. For the first few years of the totally empty nest, The Dot and T-man only lived about twenty miles apart. That meant when we saw one, we usually saw both, and we bragged about having frequent family meals together.

There would be an occasional hug from a former classmate on the street, and increasingly meager social contact with some of the other parents, and so without really realizing it, we weaned ourselves from the family-of-four lifestyle within about three years. Hubba and I slowly regained our pre-parental interests, and we discovered our conversations included topics that hadn’t arisen since 1980.

The weaning process included a new phenomenon. We couldn’t identify it immediately, but when the kids were home, we’d get kind of annoyed with them. Hubba certainly thought I made some negative-sounding comments at times, and I heard the same from him. How could that be? Our children were the centers of our universe for so many years, yet now when they were around, they were sort of, well, in the way.

We certainly didn’t love them any less. We still talked about them every day, and when the phone rang, we always hoped it was one of them. I checked my e-mail regularly to see if there was something offspring-like in the inbox, and I kept clean sheets on their beds in case they found time to run home for an overnight. I grimaced at hearing some parents say they were always happy to see their adult children arrive for a visit, and equally happy to see them leave again. Ick. That wasn’t us. We hated to see them leave. It was baffling.

Then it occurred to me: it is difficult for adults to live together. Anyone who has ever been married can tell you how much more we expect of our adult relationships than we expect from our parent/child relationships. Preferences related to the position of the toilet seat, wet towels, dirty clothes, channel-surfing, bed times, and waking hours were now negotiable, not mandated.

The Dot and T-man have been home for a nice holiday visit. It will all end very soon, and they will return to their lives away from the nest. We’ve tried to be good hosts, and have enjoyed having them as guests. This time when they leave, it won’t be so sad. We won’t pine away for them as we did a few years ago, and we’ll adjust back to our empty nest lives without skipping a beat. We mean it this time. We won’t miss them a bit.

If we keep telling ourselves that, maybe someday…

Copyright © Kari E.O. Burns January 2006