Photograph by Todd Hido
All my kids are in the house this morning. It’s strange to have the teens here as visitors, suitcases in the guest room, folded-up quilts at the foot of the bed. Yesterday I took them (of course) to Powell’s, then to the vintage shops and lunch at Deschutes, very touristy. We are finding a new equilibrium as adults in the world together. I am still their mother, of course. I’ll be here for whatever they need. But I didn’t offer the house as a residence or beg them to move to Portland as I thought I would. That hand has been played. Portland is and always has been my dream, and they have dreams of their own, and needs and plans and big bright ideas for what their futures may hold. I can accept that. I can buy their plane tickets and reel them in at Christmas and we’ll bake cookies and decorate the tree and shop for odd little gifts to wrap and tuck underneath, and in the meantime there are the nine hundred internet means for keeping in touch. There are care packages to send and phone calls to make. There are lives to lead, for all of us.
Tomorrow I will work on my manuscript. I’ll wash the sheets and deflate the air mattress. Restock the cupboards and cook a dinner for three. Life will resume along its current trajectory and I’ll get back to work. And if the bedroom looks too empty when I pass by, I’ll close the door and crank up the Fleetwood Mac and try like hell to remember that mothering is about more than the wing and the nest.
How do you handle change?
“How do you handle change?”
As well as I can. Like most people, I don’t like too much change too fast. Thing is, change is going to come, anyway it will, like it or not.
Life is log-rolling. Stay on! Stay on! And if you fall, don’t panic. Swim to shore and try again. You do know how to swim, yes? One should know how to swim.
I think I handle change a little too well. Funny, huh?
I handle change best with chocolate.
Amen, sister.
In no particular order and usually not all at once: anticipation, fear, philosophical acceptance, screams of joy/rage/relief, hiding under the bed, dancing in the kitchen, a fuckton of junk food, and writing.
My soul sister! I handle it just like this one wave more dramatic than the next.
Averil, it goes to what a great mom you are that your birds are out of the nest and you’re so fantastically finding your new ways with each other. And how I love these posts about you feathering your nest! You, Portland, decor, writing, all of it…love.
Same as Tetman, as well as I can. I wouldn’t say I am wary of change, but I like to observe it for awhile before I decide how I feel about it.
At this point, I am jealous of you, having your kids as visitors. Mine are currently 13, 11, and almost 8…I am running ragged here. For the first time I feel like I don’t have it in me to keep on keeping on with the parenting front. (Except I will because that’s just who I am.) Love my kids, but just at a stage of change here…I no longer have “little kids.”
I feel the same, Jennine. What I would give to have a few of them out of my house. You’re a good Mama Bird, Averil.
As far as change, I love it but only if it comes easy. If it’s inflicted on me, I cringe.
I told my four kids to go wherever their lives took them. For three of them, that’s been far away (although one is in Portland and begging for me to visit). And the one in town is rarely seen too. I think I’d be a bad parent if I had tried to keep them close.
Interestingly, when they went off to college, I was amazed at how quickly I grew comfortable with their absence, so I guess I can adapt to some kinds of change very well.
Also, regarding those Christmas gifts, promise you won’t spend too much on me, okay?
Bad changes — a couple of times with near catatonia, a few times with an automatic calm and grace I can’t seem to muster on purpose, most times by just trying to close the slack in my jaw hoping everyone won’t see how ineffective and pointless I feel when things go south.
When the change is good without dragging me long distances over sharp rocks first, I smile while I dance and float over the darkness, wondering how I can bring the people I love into the happy place with me. If I’ve been dragged first, I sleep a lot until I heal. A few people in my life have confused that with not being grateful.
Any change never feels good to me at first. Then some changes are wonderful and I say hooray for getting through that. Like childbirth, moving (anywhere), retirement. Others never are welcome or accepted. Like losing friends and loved ones, aging, giving up on dreams. Hey, life is about change, always.
One of the things I was most grateful to my mother for was treating me as an adult by the time I was 21. She certainly bossed me around in her own house (“Who taught you to do laundry??”) but outside the house I had space and support.
Last week a good friend of mine, age 64, fit as you can imagine, lived a life without excess and with lots of love and laughter, dropped over dead after a bike ride with his wife. This guy excelled at his profession (labor lawyer) but was also the best parent. On the back of the funeral card was an image of a note that he gave to each of his girls when they left the nest. I don’t know if he found these somewhere or if they are his original words, but it doesn’t matter. It was so HIM, and it made he wonder if I had ever been so to-the-point with my advice to my children:
Now that you are on your own, remember…
-Look out for your brothers and sisters;
-Don’t leave while there is a priest on the altar or a pitcher on the mound;
-Friends are worth more than money;
-Never cross a picket line to take a job;
-Be as good as your word;
-Stay out of a bar unless you can afford to buy your round and leave a good tip;
-Remember your own debts and don’t keep track of favors you have done for others;
-The only way to work is hard; and
-Marry for love.
Love,
Dad
Your friend sounds like a wonderful man and a wise father to his girls. Each one of those pieces of advice is true and important and makes me wish I’d consolidated my own advice in some way.
I’m so sorry for your loss, Mary Lynne.
I think you seem to handle change better than nearly anyone I know, my friend.
More about the wing than the nest…brilliant.