Leaving Oz

The Empty (but Cleaner) Nest

I have a powerful urge to clean house.  Without my teenager daughter's charisma in the house, I don't want her chaos.  So, from Day 1, I've been erasing at least the messiest reminders of her.

She was never a tidy child.  Her room was her own wild space.  Her college admissions essay told the story of "cleaning her room" with a friend, but really dumping everything in the closet and only sorting it out years later.

Partly my reasons are charitable.  In three weeks, when she returns from her wilderness experience with other freshmen, I'll join her at college for orientation.  I'm bringing her computer and printer, and have room to throw in anything really essential that she's left behind.  (And yes, some of this clutter will be passed on to Hope Services or Goodwill.)

Success at What Cost?

My first-born just turned 10 years old, which has been more of a milestone than I thought it would be. It's been a decade since I became a mother, and it's less than a decade until my baby girl goes off to college. She can now be left home alone--for a few minutes to start, and only during the day--but it's a big step, and I agonize over whether it's the right thing to do.

How times have changed. I remember my brother riding his bike all over town with his friends, gone for the whole day, from the time he knew how to ride a bike. My kids don't ride their bikes alone to school, which is just around the corner. I remember walking from my house to the corner drugstore to buy candy with my friends starting when we were probably seven or eight years old. Today, my kids don't walk next door unless we're standing in the front yard watching them.

Does that make us better parents than our parents were? Or are we doing our kids a terrible disservice by constantly hovering over them, never letting them explore and learn on their own? That's what I'm starting to think.

Farewell to My College-Bound Daughter

She's gone.  I waved goodbye from behind a glass window after she cleared security, pulled her hiking boots back over her "Nightmare before Christmas" socks, and hoisted her carry-on bag onto her shoulder. Then she strolled off to Gate 25 and her future.  It was 6:15am.  My tissues were too soggy to be useful, but the diner where we'd shared breakfast had napkins to spare.  I got home in a fog, fed the cats, put in earplugs against the garbage trucks prowling the neighborhood, and went back to sleep.

Yesterday, she withdrew into herself.  She's an introvert, and gains strength from her alone time, so I wasn't alarmed.  She spent alone time in all her favorite places--our roof, our climbing tree, my room. It seemed that she was steeping herself in these special places one last time.

Be still, and know that I am God.

It's past midnight. Everyone is in bed, even the dog and the cat. It's so quiet I can hear the hum of the refrigerator.

    Be still, and know that I am God.   

I am a busybody. I cannot fathom just sitting still with nothing to do. To me, that's wasting time. I'm always involved in multiple activities. Multitasking is my motto.

My Father's Day On This Side of Heaven

Father's Day is really all about dads. This year, it was also meaningful for me as a mom.  Since I grew up with a single parent mom, I've had the girl-power version of a family.  Whenever people find this out about me, sad expressions wash over their faces and their voices lower a couple notches.  They ask me gently, "What's it like growing up without a father?"

As a young girl, my reaction to this kind of question was kind of a blank stare.  "Uh, I don't know.. "  I was never quite sure how to answer this question.  I relate to other people who were born without a limb, who I've  heard answer,"You can't miss what you've never had."

As I grew older, though, I came to resent that question.  First of all, a lot of people who ask me this question may not even know me.  And I think it's a rather personal question, you know?  Like if it really was tough to answer, especially for some kids who do have memories of their dad living with them.  I felt it was very rude for people to ask right up front.

The second reason I came to hate this question was that I realized when people asked it, they assumed that there would be some dark, terrible, or sad answer.