My daughter’s been away at camp all week. I’ve been home alone since Sunday. Usually, this means a good time for me. This week, not so much.
I’ve been a single mom for about 14 years. For most of those years, when my kids went away, it was kind of a treat. Judge me if you will, but every parent needs breaks and single parents need them even more. So I would pack their little overnight bags and bundle them off to Dad’s house with lots of love and kisses, and then PAR-TAY!! Momma’s alone for the weekend! YESSS!
Let me tell you, some of those weekends I got pretty crazy. I could sleep with ALL THE LIGHTS OFF AT ONCE. I could pee, or even take a whole shower, with no one walking in. Leave the TV off for the whole weekend. (Is there any sound more grating than SpongeBob?) Not have to make anyone pancakes. Not have to break up fights. Not have to share. It was awesome.
But things are changing at Casa de Meg. My son moved out two years ago. My daughter is almost 17 and about to begin her senior year in high school. She’s like a roommate now- albeit one I cook for and drive around, but still- it’s just she and I in our two-bedroom apartment. And she’s away fairly often these days, so I’m grateful for her company when I get it.
Last week, I tried to plan ahead for this kid-free week. I figured I could line up some internet dates—at least it would be blog fodder to entertain you with. Or maybe I could work out a whole bunch, try the gym by my house like I’ve been meaning to. I could catch up on paperwork. Paint something, maybe.
OR, I could—and by “could” I mean “did”—sit on my couch and drink and eat fast food and watch crappy TV for four days. I suck.
Here’s the problem: when my daughter leaves, it’s no longer a getaway from my single parenthood; it’s a glimpse into my future. That future is an empty nest. EMPTY NEST!! EMPTY NEST!!! (<——that is me shrieking crazily like Chicken Little).
Remember those cartoons where the guy would dive from the ridiculously high platform into the ridiculously tiny bucket? They would show the view from the platform down into the bucket before he jumped, and there would be clouds halfway between because it was so high up. That is how I picture the empty nest: way, way, down at the bottom of a very high cliff. One day, approximately 395 days from today, my daughter is going to leave for college and I am going to have to jump off that cliff.
Melodramatic? Me? Okay maybe, but I am really that apprehensive.
I had my first kid before I turned 21. I don’t know how to be a grownup without being a mom. I always figured I would raise my kids and then resume my regular life– catch up on all that stuff that normal people do before they have kids. Only now they’re grown and I don’t know what to do. Or maybe there is so much to do I can’t decide what to do. And I don’t have anyone to do things with and I don’t have any money to do them and waah waah waah… Is there any beer in the fridge? TV sounds pretty good.
One day at a time, Meg. I have books to edit, college to finish, dogs to walk, blog posts to write, practically ARMIES of WINNERS on the internet just waiting for me to date them… there’s plenty to keep me busy when the kids are gone. Maybe I will find someone new to make pancakes for. Or better, someone to make pancakes for me.
And anyway, there’s still a whole ‘nother year before I have to jump.