Surveying the Empty Nest

Age 3, the whole wide world and South Shore Park ahead.

I dropped my youngest child off at college this weekend. It was strange and exciting for both of us.

We drove out to La Crosse the day before to spend the night at my brother's house to make the move into the dorm the next morning a little easier. The back of the car was mostly filled with Quinn's new bike that we got her as a graduation present, which we thought might give her a little more freedom to travel in her new town. Aside from the bike, she packed light for such a move: Three IKEA bags filled with bedding, clothes, and everything else. Plus a laundry basket, and big batch of cookies she'd baked to share with her roommate and others on her floor.

We brought the dog, partially because the dog doesn't like to be apart from me, and partially because she would be good company on the drive home. We set up Domino's bed on the sideways front wheel of the bike in the back where she settled in and could see us both and look out the window. The idea of driving Quinn someplace hours away and leaving her there was incredibly weird. I needed to return with someone, so Domino got the job.

My brother, Barrett, teaches at La Crosse, and lives within easy biking distance from the campus. I think it's great that Quinn chose a school that's away from home, but still near family. It's a pretty area, and UWL is incredibly thoughtful and organized. Quinn signed up for more credits than is probably wise, but compared to the IB course-load she recently completed at Rufus King High School, she thought it looked doable, particularly since the classes meet on such a loose schedule compared to what she's used to. I told her to drop something if it gets to be too much, but I think for at least the first semester she can probably handle it.

Move-in was on Saturday morning, so Barrett was free to come with us and help unload the car. We drove behind him as he led the way by bike. Quinn was reassured by how much less traffic there was to navigate compared to the bike rides we've been doing to the farmers market at home. 

Before checking in, we needed to replace Quinn's student ID already. She thinks she may have lost it at orientation back in June. I found this alarming, but Quinn was unfazed. She said she lost her high school ID at least once a year and replacements are no problem. Sure enough, the student office was able to print her up a new one in a matter of minutes. 

From there, we decided to pick up her books since the bookstore was in the same building. I cannot believe how much easier things are compared to when I was in school (before laptops and the internet and I had to use a card catalog at the library and do my papers on a typewriter or in the computer lab... We may as well lump all of my experience in with playing hoop-and-stick at this point). Quinn swiped her ID, immediately got a printout of all the books she needed and where to find them (and if the super easy system was too hard there were at least half a dozen volunteers standing by to help), and when we took the pile of books to the checkout, they swiped her card again and that was it. The texts are rented and far more affordable than buying all the books used to be. (My oldest said at her school the whole process is even easier, because they scan your card and then collect the books for you to take to checkout. But I liked wandering around with Quinn to find the books.)

With books and ID in hand, we went to unload the car. The dorm is in a convenient spot, and Quinn's room was only a few doors down from the entrance. Unloading was easy. The roommate was very nice (and also a sophomore, which Quinn appreciates because it's like having a personal guide to how things work).

I left a note and a little present on her desk that I told Quinn was for later. (It was a mini Boggle game that I added a key chain to, and she figured out what it was the moment she picked up the wrapped package and heard that distinctive rattle.)

Barrett declared Quinn's bike lock insufficient for the amount of bike theft that unfortunately happens on campus, so he directed us to his favorite bike shop (with a sweet pit bull named Wilma in the sunny window) and we picked up something harder to cut. Fingers crossed. I've experienced stolen bikes a few times and I don't want Quinn to go through that. But honestly, as far as crime goes, if that's the worst that happens life is good.

After dropping everything off, we located the different buildings Quinn's classes are in. The biology lecture room turned out to be directly across the hall from Barrett's lab where he has key-card access, which is why it was one of the few buildings we could actually enter on a holiday weekend. We went from there to the student union to grab some lunch to eat outside in the beautiful weather.

Then we took Quinn back to her dorm, I hugged her, and as I watched her from the the parking lot she turned to wave every few steps until she disappeared inside.

I said goodbye to my brother, and told him how much it means to me that he's nearby if Quinn needs something. Then I called Quinn from inside the car because I missed her already, and to ask if a CD I had planned to listen to had accidentally made it into her bags. (It hadn't.) I took a deep breath, and gave the dog a pat in the seat next to me.

It was hard to drive away. 

I think the longest I've ever been apart from Quinn would be about two weeks. Walking past her empty room at home is startling, but I know it will become normal. The first few days of walking past Aden's room each time she leaves for school again is still a hard adjustment. Ian drove her back up to UW Stout the day after I came back from La Crosse. I can't believe there are no kids in the house. I like having them home.

Although I will admit, over the end of the summer break, it was like my kids were trying to make this transition to not having them around easier for us. The house was a wreck. I love Aden's creativity, but the number of projects in process on all the available surfaces was crazy. Quinn and I pulled out a card table for playing Boggle because everyplace else was too cluttered to use, including the table on the deck. We still have not retrieved all the dirty dishes from various rooms of the house, and we are still digging out the kitchen. There is a large bowl of oil the kids were saving for something that I don't know how to get rid of. Aden lost one of her hissing roaches before she left. (That will be a fun surprise if it turns up.) 

Quinn at least did a great job cleaning and organizing her room before she moved out. I had honestly forgotten she had a rug. At least when I walk by her door I feel a bit of delight about the state of the room to balance out the pang of pain that she's not in it.

It helps that Mona is still around. I'm sure we won't see her as often now that her siblings aren't here to hang out with, but she's nice to have along for errands when she's free. Maybe I can convince her to come with me to a movie. And having a baby-sized dog is comforting.

So far this empty nest thing is strange. It's quiet, and my schedule feels oddly empty even though I always have a lot to do. It's hard to adjust to the fact that this is the new way it's going to be. Not just some weekend where the kids are away, but the new baseline for normal.

It's not bad, and in some ways just a return to an old forgotten normal. We're back to me and Ian again. It's been a long time since we planned things for just the two of us. We've spent decades specializing in a divide and conquer approach to parenting, where between the two of us we could handle everything. He's always been in charge of dentist appointments, I do the doctor. He does the laundry and the dishes, I handle the food and clutter. He does yard stuff, I do holiday things. Between the two of us there has always been someone to open the store while the other handles errands and we'd tag team among the many shifting responsibilities that come with raising kids.

But now the kids are out of the daily equation, and it's hard to remember what we did before they came into our lives. It will be fun to rediscover a new/old rhythm. It will be nice to do things like eat out and go places that are simpler for two people instead of five. I suppose we're getting a well-earned break. 

We're in the process of rethinking the house. There is a renovation plan in the works to concentrate our lives on the first floor. My home shop will move to my work building (since the point of having a home shop was to accommodate balancing violin making and caring for kids and that's not relevant now), and that former shop space will become our bedroom. We're turning a small room we've used as a guest space into a bathroom with an accessible shower. The current first floor bathroom will become a laundry room. The entire upstairs will be set up for guests and kids returning on breaks. My problems last year with my knees gave me insight as to what elements of our house will become difficult as we age, so addressing much of that now before issues arise seems smart. Living on one floor also will make the house feel less empty and more manageable.

In anticipation of the renovation, we've started moving things around and getting rid of stuff. Gone are the outgrown bikes and the tiny tennis rackets. The old drill with the dead batteries we can let go of. Paint cans from past room makeovers will be going to the dump. The sand toys should be in the hands of kids again, not in a bucket in our basement. 

The cleaning and reorganizing are good activities that Ian and I can do together as we reshape how we move through our days now. It is fun being just a couple again, (if you don't count the dog at my heels). It's odd cooking for only two, but a lot less pressure to cook at all. Not being tethered to our children's daily schedules frees up ours. We are already planning trips to the cottage, because why even run your own business if you can't choose your days off once in a while? 

With the pockets of unexpected free time that come with not doing as many chores on a relentless loop, I am teaching myself piano, which is meditative and a good distraction from the fact that I have no idea what any of my kids are doing and I'm not used to that. It's hard to unlearn that kind of constant monitoring after decades.

It's wild that Ian and I fell in love in college, made people, and after so many years where the center of all our decision making has been based around our children, that that whole chapter is finished. We raised three children. Their childhoods are over. There are still things to manage for them, such as orthodontist appointments and walking them through filing tax returns, etc. But what an astonishing thing to step back and declare that job essentially done. I think we did okay. I hope we did enough. All of our children are compassionate, curious, and interesting people, and I know the world is better for having them in it. 

Back in June, Quinn and I did a similar drive to La Crosse to the one this past weekend. My daughter and dog and I went out to stay at Barrett's for freshman orientation at UWL, where Quinn signed up for classes, got an (apparently short-lived) ID, and toured the campus. It's just over three hours by car from Milwaukee to La Crosse, and Quinn read to me for most of it. 

Light From Uncommon Stars by Ryka Aoki had been on my to-read pile for a some time, primarily because it had a female luthier character in it, and had been recommended to me by several people for that reason. It's an unlikely melding of genres that includes demons from hell contracting for souls, plus space ships, but also lutherie, violin performance, donuts, and the experience of a trans-woman character. We didn't finish the book on that trip, but we read a little more of it to each other at the cottage, and were determined to finish it on this recent trip. We didn't want to finish it without each other. We got very close on the actual drive, to the point where Quinn even offered to keep reading to me as we walked the dog around the neighborhood before actually approaching her uncle's house, but Barrett happily came bursting out to greet us and we set the book down. 

We went out to dinner and taught Quinn's uncle, aunt, and cousin how to play Wavelength (our latest fun family game) while we waited for our food. We had a great meal, headed back to the house where we helped tune a couple of unusual instruments, and then another walk with the dog. A lovely evening all around, but Quinn and I were also anxious to finally finish our book, and when we said our good nights to everyone and she was settled onto her bed in the guest space, I pulled up a rocking chair and read her the last couple of chapters.

Somehow for me that was the most fitting thing we could have done on this milestone weekend. Yes, it was good to see her dorm and meet her roommate and have lunch on campus together and share a tearful hug goodbye. But to be able to sit near Quinn while she lay in bed listening to my voice, engrossed in a story I was reading, felt full circle. 

I loved reading to my kids. When the books had pictures they would gather close on one of their beds and follow along. When we switched to chapter books, I used to read from the floor in the hallway between the rooms they occupied. We've read many books aloud in the car on road trips. I loved having Quinn read to me. I loved getting to read to her one last time before she was on her own.

When Quinn was three, her dad left for his second deployment to Iraq. Aden and Mona had school, but Quinn didn't yet and was disappointed. I took her shopping for her own school supplies and we set up a desk at the violin store for her to do "school work" while I repaired instruments. We referred to that setup as the "School of One" and Quinn had lots of papers and coloring supplies and she did a lot of map puzzles. To transfer any of those supplies back and forth from home she had a purple backpack.

 

She took that same backpack to college this past weekend. 

  

She's literally carrying her student history with her into this new phase of her education. It's been such an honor to watch her grow up. I hope she has what she needs.