How can you miss them if they never go away?
by Lindsay FerrierArticle Tools
This time a year ago, my husband and I were busy ordering dorm room linens, choosing meal plans and mulling over course options. Our eldest was headed to college, and as Hubs and I prepared for her departure, we experienced the dual emotions of pain and excitement.
The night before she left, I planned a fancy back-to-school feast and wiped a tear from my eye as we sat down for a final family dinner. It was tough to keep it together. I had known my stepdaughter since she was a wild-haired, helium-voiced fourth-grader. Was this beautiful, independent young woman really the same person I knew back then? Was she truly leaving us and striking out on her own?
I wish I'd known then what was to come — I would have saved the tears for later.
Much to my stepdaughter's dismay, freshman year turned out to be about more than freedom and frat parties. She seemed shocked to discover that her professors expected papers to be turned in on time, and that her roommates weren't cool with dishes left in the sink for weeks on end.
And then there were her R.A.s, who insisted on writing her up for totally minor offenses like taking in a stray kitten, and campus police who littered her windshield with parking tickets, sending us the bill every time she left her car in the wrong lot, which was often. Very, very often.
Bummer.
Meanwhile at home, we gradually adjusted to life with three children in the house instead of four. Bedrooms were swapped. My younger stepdaughter blossomed. I realized that, as hard as it had been to let my eldest go, she was ready to transition to adulthood. She'd chafed under our rules her last two years at home, and college was giving her a taste of what living on her own would really be like.
That taste came to an end when she returned home for the summer to find that, while she had changed, we had not. Despite her objections, Hubs insisted that curfew was still in effect, and her social expenses were now her own responsibility. After a few weeks of denial, the $10 in her bank account brought her back to reality and she landed her first part-time job. Ever since then, things have been going smoothly. Too smoothly, judging by what happened next.
"I'm staying here next year," she announced last week. "I'm going to live at home and go to Nashville Tech."
"Are you sure?" Hubs asked her incredulously.
"Yeah," she replied. "I mean, college was hard. I was alone a lot. And I can't deal with the parking tickets."
Overhearing this conversation from the kitchen, I wanted to call out, "That's called real life, my friend! It's a never-ending series of parking tickets!" but it didn't seem like quite the right moment.
"I'll do a year at Nashville Tech," she continued, "and then I'm going to take some time off ... and write a screenplay."
Oh. Dear. Lord. There are endless books and articles written about empty nesting and how to cope when your child strikes out on her own. But what about full nesting? Where are the advice books for me? Because we're no longer housing the child we used to know: We now have ourselves a hybrid, an in-betweener who expects all the benefits of adulthood and none of the responsibilities.
I've told myself this turn of events isn't that big of a deal, but my friends with teenagers aren't helping. They gasp when I tell them about my stepdaughter's change in plans. "It's your fault, you know," one of them said.
"My fault?!" I sputtered.
"You've made it too easy at home. She'll never leave now. Why should she?"
I start to object, but then I remember that my own husband has glowing memories of living with his parents until he was 26. 26! As far as he's concerned, our children can stay with us forever and write screenplays 'til the cows come home, while I grow old and stoop-backed, picking up their trash, cooking their meals and doing their laundry.
I'm not sure if my stepdaughter has a clear idea yet of her screenplay's subject matter, but I can already imagine the title when she puts the finishing touches on it from the comfort of her childhood bedroom, five or 10 or 40 years down the road: Stepmommie Dearest.
On the bright side, maybe Sandra Bullock will play me ... provided she hasn't left the screen by then and retired to Sarasota.
Read more Suburban Turmoil at www.suburbanturmoil.com.
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If It wasn't so sad this article would be funny. We see so much of this. My next door neighbor, a couple who have been without children for years, recently had to begin housing their son (her son actually). He is not worthless but close to it. I feel so sorry for people who are caught in this situation.
Ha! Wow. You probably can't say where she's going to school, but the right college can make a big difference. Since I'm in the business (college that is), if you'd like some advice IRL let me know. In the meantime, I think she'll find living at home is just as much of a drag as parking tickets after awhile. My parents let me come back home after college, and it didn't last. GOOD LUCK. http://jacoblawrencenewman.blogspot.com/
I am talking to my kids, now, about moving out when they are 18 yrs old. My theory is the only way you are going to get them to stand on their own feet is to let them fall. My SIL (My husband's sister) lived with her parents for her whole life. She was 50 yrs old when they passed. She was very angry at us, because we wouldn't and couldn't just pay for her household. She would soon find a job that paid her bills and developed a nice community of friends around her. Sadly, she passed recently; just when she was getting a footing in her life.
This is a big fear of mine, but I hope I can maintain this technique with my kids and much sooner. Because trust me they will hate you for it. Good luck with your daughter. And just to let you know, I lived with my mom until I was 26 yrs old and then moved in with my now husband. I was never meant to live alone. However, I was supporting myself while living with either of them.
http://soulprncs2.wordpress.com/
oh.my.word. i'm drawing up a contract right now about boomeranging. as in "don't do it."
yikes. i felt the hair on my head stand up.
i have two who have left the nest. and they're both home for the summer. i'll be sad to see them leave, but i'm thinking i'll be laughing maniacally as the taillights go down the driveway.
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