My Empty Nest

It seems like my personal circumstances are as changeable as the weather these days.  I guess that’s the nature of most relationship breakups.  This weekend is a biggie for me as it’s my first weekend, in what seems like forever, without my children.  For the foreseeable future, I will have every second weekend to myself, sans enfants.  I’m pleased for them and relieved for all involved that we are at this stage, but bloody hell, when it actually comes, it’s a shock to the system. 

What to do with myself? 

Those that know stuff say that I need to tend to my ‘self-care’.  The phrase suggests ‘slow down’, ‘relax’, but all I can see is a long list of jobs that would be easier to tend to, without the assistance of two eager eight year olds.  

My 1.1 acre garden is a jungle.  Sipping tea, while watching the grass grow out of control does little for my stress levels.  I decided to tackle some of the most jungle-esque areas this morning.  I decided to mow until I ran out of petrol.  Nature saved me from myself when the skies opened, with rain, hailstones, thunder and lightning.  It’s way too wet to cut any more grass now and the soft rain and heat will trigger another growth spurt.  Fan flipping-fastic.  

I’ve just looked out on the garden, in all of its post-rain greenness.  It looks so pretty now.  I'll pat myself on the back for what I have achieved.  Enough hard work for one day.

I went on a night out on Friday and to a show in Dublin city yesterday afternoon.  There was alcohol, coffee, grown up jokes, food in a non-child friendly restaurant.  No pressure, no timetable.  No sad faces asking me to hurry up, or for salt and vinegar crisps in an establishment that only has cheese and onion.  

I got quite excited at the thought of such freedom two weekends out of four.  But simultaneously, I can see that I am transferring my anxiety about the children onto my dog and found myself fretting, hoping that he is okay, thinking that ‘I really should get home’.  The turbo boost button will take some time to release.

On a practical level, it’s so much easier to feed just myself, without the pressure of preparing balanced meals for two children who never seem to want to eat the same thing at the same time.  As I write, I am having a fried egg for lunch, with toasted naan bread and an apple for dessert.  There's so little washing up !  I may never cook again, on my solo weekends.  The way I’m planning and plotting, there just won’t be time.

In the last year, on Saturday evenings, My Boy has administered an injection into my thigh.  I find it very tricky to do it myself, partly because the device isn’t very user friendly, but also because I know it’s going to hurt.  My Boy has a knack and has it done before I have time to wince.  This weekend, I felt a bit sorry for myself, futtering with the device, all on my lonesome.  But I did it.

‘See Hudson’, I said to my dog.  ‘I CAN do this’.  He acknowledged my achievement, wagging his loyal tail, on his over sized bum.  This new arrangement is suiting him well so far.  He had the longest walk in ages yesterday and I’ll treat him to the same today.  His ass and my bingo wings will soon be kicked into shape.

I’ve had whole two days with no announcements about any else’s bowel movements.  Nor did anyone pass any notice of mine.  There was no beating on the door when I was in the shower and no one passed comments about my wardrobe choices, wobbly bits, wrinkles or bodily hair.

I read (some of) yesterday’s newspapers and some of the previous fortnights too.  I’m catching up on writing and ideas for writing.  I’ve the enthusiasm to start two paintings for ridiculously overdue wedding presents.  I’m looking forward to spending time with my Mam.  Treating her for all of her kindnesses.  A days shopping.  An overnight stay in a hotel. 

In the middle of all of this activity, I am missing my darling children.  It’s the background noise, the awareness of them pottering around with me, the constant third eye that you have as a parent, knowing where they are and what they are up to.  Kissing a grazed elbow, stroking their soft hair.  The incessant questions.  The house is so quiet without them.  

This new beginning for all of us is daunting and exciting.  I’ve five hours left before I collect the children.  I guess that I should make the most of it.