Our Nest is Back to Empty. Here’s What It’s Really Like.

It’s been a few days since the kids left. John and I are back to empty nester life. It was just as odd going to the store this afternoon and only picking up a single bag of salad greens as it was two weeks ago when I remembered that three bags barely cover dinner when the whole family is home and tossed a fourth into the cart just to be safe. It was a magical two weeks having a house full of kids and their friends, full of dinners on the deck and late night movies on the patio and flip flops strewn throughout. We already miss the sounds coming from the backyard, of dice hitting the plastic folding table during heated games of Snappa and of 20-somethings cannonballing into the pool. As usual, we discovered new music from the kids’ Spotify playlists to add to our own; our songs get pretty stale when the guys aren’t around to show us what’s up. The 1,000 piece puzzle that was left on the coffee table on Sunday afternoon has yet to be completed. It’s a little slower going now that only two of us are left to work on it.

Are we sad that our house is quiet again? Not really. We still have a number of days to enjoy the peace and beauty of late summer. I don’t have to worry about attending back to school open houses, filling out endless health forms, buying cases of Clorox wipes for the kids’ classrooms. I can go for a walk or take an exercise class instead of sitting in school traffic. We’re headed to a fancy restaurant tonight (a Thursday!), because we can.

But do we adore this freedom to do anything we want, where and whenever we want? Yeah, also not so much. We’ve had some great adventures, just the two of us, weekend getaways and day trips to places we were too busy to see before, but on most weekends our biggest excitement is deciding what to have for dinner and shopping for the ingredients. Which is, let’s face it, not entirely exciting. And while I’m the lucky recipient of John’s mean grilling skills, no chicken wing will ever compare to cheering our kid from the sideline at a Saturday morning game. Planning missions on our own is still a work in progress; a few months ago we spent an entire day scouring London hardware stores for a soft-close toilet seat. Woohoo?

No, this empty nest thing isn’t the absolute BEST, nor is it utterly DEVASTATING, as parenting forums and social media would have us all believe. For us, it’s just been, well, kind of weird. But not just weird. Empty nesting can better be described by what our family of five refers to as Eleven Presents Weird.

Let me explain…

Eleven Presents Weird is a different category from “just” weird. It was unknowingly coined by our nephew when he was six. He had just unwrapped his gifts from our extended family’s Christmas morning celebration, and, surveying his loot, he turned to our oldest son Tommy (twenty at the time) with a casual observation:

“Hey. I just noticed something kinda weird. I got eleven presents.”

slight pause to ponder

“I mean, don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying that’s bad. Or good. It’s just weird.”

Tommy was tickled by his sweet cousin’s assessment, but had had to agree. The kid had a point. Eleven presents is kind of weird if you think about it. Ten presents would have been a totally logical haul. A round, predictable number, generous but not over the top. Even twelve gifts, a clean dozen, would have made sense. But eleven presents? What the heck was that? Had someone slipped him a bonus gift? Had one gotten lost and was still hiding somewhere under the Christmas tree? He didn’t feel lucky nor slighted, no, it wasn’t that. It was just…weird. That’s all.

THIS…is empty nesting.

Even two years since our last kiddo flew the coop, I often rush home on autopilot in the afternoon greet a child who isn’t on the way back. But then I walk into a quiet house with no one needing me and hey, guess who gets a bonus nap?

We no longer have lacrosse, baseball, or theatre performances getting us up and moving on the weekends, but as John and I wander about in search of dinner fixings or housewares, if we happen to come across a cute café or quaint pub we don’t need to hesitate if it suits our fancy to walk in and sit down. We discovered one of our favorite restaurants a couple of years ago when we had woken up and plotted a long walk that would take us through the design district. We could work out AND find a bookcase for John’s office! After well beyond 10,000 steps we confirmed that most of the furniture stores were closed, but a Mexican joint on the way home had an open door and a smiling hostess. Bookcase, schmookcase; a bottle of wine and a couple of ceviches later, we’ve been regulars at the restaurant ever since.

John and I soaked up and enjoyed every moment with our kids over the brief time we were together. We loved the sense of purpose brought by waking up to a full house. We loved cooking big family dinners, hitting the beach to swim to the buoy and back, and the mounds of dishes and sandy floors that were left by it all at the end of the day. Funny how less annoying those things are when they’re no longer part of your daily life. But we’ll be together soon enough for the holidays and will do it all over again. It’s not like we’re completely aimless with the kids gone; we’ve got a puzzle to finish, after all. And we’ve also got sunsets to watch, more local towns to explore, and we have yet to find that perfect bookcase. Maybe our measurements are too specific or maybe we’re too choosy or maybe we’ve simply been putting it off for a day we need something to do.

Weird agenda? Totally. Even after two years, we’re still figuring out how we want to use the time that was occupied by our kids for so long.

But we’re appreciating the gifts along the way. Even if they always add up to Eleven.