Easing toward the empty nest

My kids are currently 23, 21, and 18. The oldest is away at college. The middle child lives in an apartment in our violin store building and is an apprentice at a tattoo shop across the street. The youngest is in her final year of high school and we are still waiting to hear back from the last couple of colleges she's interested in.

Officially they are all adults. Realistically they are all still supported by us as they continue to build skills that will help them live on their own at some point. We're glad to help. We're also glad that we didn't go cold turkey from having kids around, to their complete absence in our day-to-day lives. I like when the oldest returns on school breaks. I like that we see the middle child more often than we did when she lived in our house and retreated (as teens often do) behind her bedroom door. I like that my baby is around for games of Boggle most evenings. She's quiet and keeps to herself, but she's definitely still home.

I feel like we're easing into the empty nest years. It's an interesting transition, because if you'd asked me when my kids were small how I would be handling this concept, it would have sounded too sad. I love having a front row seat to my kids' lives. But I may also be ready for something new.

Someone asked me recently what having just one grown kid still at home even entails. I was a little taken aback because I definitely still feel the weight of parenting, but truthfully my daughter doesn't need much. She's in charge of dinner four nights a week (we get a Hello Fresh box which cuts down on decisions and shopping and food waste, and delegating dinner in this way was one of the best ideas we ever tried). She takes the bus to school. She seldom if ever needs help with homework and is handling all her IB classes just fine. It's not like with little kids where you have to help them bathe and dress, etc.

But it definitely impacts your life to be available all the time. Parenting a self-sufficient kid is like being on call 24/7. If she misses the bus, we have to drive her across town. There are still doctor and dentist appointments. There are still prescriptions to keep track of. There are piano lessons, and for a while she had debate that she needed to be picked up from twice a week, along with occasional meets on weekends. We went to our very last parent-teacher conference over a week ago. We may not have to technically do very much, but we still have to be ready to drop things at a moment's notice the way parents are sometimes called to do.

I don't envy people still in the early days of their parenting journeys. It's a lot. It can be great fun, and I'm glad I got to do much of it, but I've reached a stage in my life where it mostly looks exhausting. I may never be lucky enough to have grandchildren, but I understand the appeal. Getting to visit some of those experiences again without having to commit to them full time sounds great.

Starting this fall, we expect to have no children living at home most of the year. Having grown children means rethinking what holidays mean, what travel can be, and not being tethered to the particulars of a school calendar. The amount of time saved simply from reductions in meals, dishes, and cleaning opens many possibilities.

The first big thing on our agenda is doing a remodel of the first floor of our house. Last year at this time I had a frustrating experience with my knees that required weeks of physical therapy, and it gave me a preview of potential complications from aging in the future. I really like our house and would prefer not to move ever again, so we're going to bring our bedroom down to the first floor, add a real bathroom with a walk-in shower, and bring the laundry up from the basement. We'll move my home shop upstairs (because one day if that's an issue we can always bring it back down), leave our youngest's room alone for a few years, and make our current bedroom into a proper guest room. It's a big project, but the idea of living entirely on the first floor seems like a good long term plan, and one best started early. None of that would be comfortable to do with any kids still living at home.

I'm looking forward to going out with my husband occasionally. Four or five people going anywhere is a lot of money and/or effort. Just two of us trying a new restaurant sounds so easy. Buying only two tickets to a movie or a show sounds affordable. 

My husband is also a lot easier to convince to do anything. Trying to dislodge the kids from the house has always been a challenge. They like doing things once we're out, but dragging them to any of it is often more work than it should be. Seriously, my mandolin orchestra may possibly got to Cremona, Italy this fall, and I invited my middle kid along since the town is her namesake. The other two will be in school, but I figured her schedule has more flexibility, especially with this much notice, and she's on the fence about it. How? Who turns down a free trip to Italy? Anyway, I love the idea of finding dog-friendly trips to take where Ian and I can close the store for a few days and go see something or visit someone just because we can.

I'm also getting absurdly excited by the idea of cleaning out our house. That's somehow hard to do with extra people in it, and I'm not even sure why. I want get rid of anything we don't use, starting by emptying the basement. There are small bikes and old pots and pans and dried up cans of paint and old floaties, etc. There are some useless things that I still want but that need to be better organized. There is a section of the basement I'd like to paint and make more habitable for my bandsaw. But most of it needs to go! I spend what little time I have for cleaning simply repeating myself with clearing the same surfaces over and over that using that reclaimed time to finally tackle messes we've put off for years will be satisfying.

I even have visions in my head of creating a once a month quartet meet up at my store after hours, where anyone who feels like doing a bit of chamber music purely for the joy of it can come over and pull up a stand. Wouldn't that be lovely?

When imagining empty nest possibilities, I tend to remember a two week stretch where my husband took all the kids and their cousin to the cottage and I had to stay behind with the dog. A friend invited me for an evening bike ride that she did with a group once a week, and at first I turned her down. I never had time to spare for something like that. But my first day home alone I cleaned the house, and the second night I realized I didn't have to do that again. It stayed clean. There was no laundry to do. There were no dishes. I realized I did have time to go on that bike ride.

I'm sure life will throw challenges at us and anticipating any sort of smooth sailing in life feels foolish at best, but currently the idea of my husband and I only having to be responsible for ourselves in the coming years sounds like a well-earned break, rather than the lonely existence I once would have pictured with the kids gone. 

We did okay, I think. We got the kids this far. There's still more to help guide them through. Do we ever stop needing our parents? I know I still need my mom. I expect my kids to still need me. As long as they keep coming back regularly enough that I can hug them and occasionally cook them something they like, I think this new phase will be fine.

I'm excited to see what they will do. I'm just as excited to see what I will do.

Having a scoopable baby-size dog also helps

The Red and Blue Problem

A content creator I like popped up in my feed a few weeks ago confused by the repeated outcome of a particular experiment. I have since done a little digging, found several versions of this question, and was initially also confused since at first glance it seems like a no-brainer.

The situation is this: You are presented with two buttons, one red, the other blue. Everyone in the country is expected to push a button. If a majority select the blue button, everybody lives. If a majority push the red button, they live, but anyone who pushed the blue button dies. 

Apparently a majority of people presented with this question push red.

I was shocked when I heard that. Then I looked up and remembered what country I live in.

Because before I even heard the end of the question, and got as far as "everybody lives" I made my choice. Of course it has to be blue. Why would anyone choose anything other?

But then I realized since the outcome depends on others, you are really being asked to make a choice based on the amount of trust you have in people you don't know. Those people are also banking on what they think you will do. The only way to guarantee you will live is to choose red. 

When I posed this question to my oldest daughter, she did the same thing I did. Before she even heard the second option, she was already declaring blue. "Everybody lives" was all she needed to know. She couldn't believe the majority of the time people would select any option that kills people.

When I pointed out that red was the only way to personally survive, she stuck with blue, because living with the knowledge that you participated in the deaths of others wasn't worth it.

I knew this was what she would say before I ever asked her the question. That's who she is.

Which is why I knew my only answer would ever be blue, because to choose otherwise I would be electing to kill my daughter. I'd rather be dead than do that.

 

I would say this analogy is too on the nose—seeing as we recently had an election where millions of people literally chose red over blue, not caring about the lives of others—but these are days without subtlety. I haven't seen any fiction or satire that could compete with our current reality of callousness and the absurd. We might have excused people in the past for not being informed enough to do anything about government sanctioned injustices, but not today.

There are no excuses now except for willful ignorance, indifference or sadism.

I have steered away from a lot of news primarily because I'm no help to anyone if my blood pressure rises to the point of having a stroke. But listening to the president somehow blame Ukraine for the war they have been fighting for three straight years put me into a state of rage. The audacity to blame them for being invaded is a new low amongst unfathomable lows, only to be topped by trying to extort resources from that country like we are some kind of mob boss. It's disgusting.

This is literally "Oceania had been always been at war with Eastasia" nonsense. 

Lives are being destroyed pointlessly, thoughtlessly, as damage is being done purely out of greed and an insatiable desire for power.

Nobody wants financial waste, but what are we saving money for exactly? I want my taxes to go to our general safety and for science and for education and for parks. There are plenty of programs and services that are of great importance to other people that don't apply to me directly, but I would never deny someone things they need. Life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness is supposed to apply to all of us.

I'm not confused by the repeated results of the red and blue button problem, but it's incredibly disheartening, and says a great deal about our country and how myopic people become in their own fears.

If you would push the red button, I'm sorry you don't care if I die. If you pushed the red button this last election, you don't get to wash the red off your hands if that choice erases my kid and other people I care about. Even ones I don't know.

2024 Round Up

The last few months have been a lot. A LOT. That's probably true for most of us. And I have many things I want to write about, but I have a need to quickly document some events that finished out 2024 before I forget them all. Join me on this belated end of year round up!

Let's begin with fact that I made a goal this fall that every time I went into our (annoyingly cluttered) garage I had to remove something from it, or at least investigate one of the many mysteries that have accumulated there. I have given away ice fishing poles, consolidated camping supplies, recycled boxes, and uncovered things like this that I have no explanation for:

The garage is looking better, and my goal for it in the spring is to find a way to hang/display our various kites on the walls so they aren't in a jumble and they can be decorative when they are not being used.

Inktober this year was not possible. I really love how in the past few years Quinn and I would meet at the dining room table most evenings and work on the day's prompt. But Quinn is in her senior year with too much to do, and I spent what felt like every waking moment in my shop on a deadline. I decided at the end of the month to do all the prompts in one drawing since many of them seemed to work together anyway.

Quinn turned 18 this year. All my children are technically adults now. It's weird. Whatever ideas I had for their childhoods, the time limit is up. I hope I did okay as their mom for that phase of their lives. I hope I do okay as the mom of adults.

When I asked Quinn when she turned 17 if there was anything she hadn't done yet as a "child," the only things she could think of were getting Mold-A-Ramas from the Oklahoma City Zoo, and going to Taco Bell. I figure the Mold-A-Rama quest extends beyond childhood anyway, and I'm chalking up the lack of Taco Bell as a parenting win. But just to round out the list, we went to Taco Bell on the night before her 18th birthday (she said it tasted like school food), and in the morning before I left town for a convention, I made her a crepe cake for breakfast with cream cheese frosting between the layers and chocolate ganache on top. I usually make my kids crepes in the shape of the their birthday numbers for breakfast, and a cake in the evening, so this seemed a good way to cross the two ideas.

I have nothing to report about Halloween this year. Sad. I may have to start dressing up the dog or becoming one of those people who does fancy house decorations.

There was the election. 

Really neighbors?

I spent the first week after it trying to order my mind by taking cubes out of the mosaic display and solving them. It was a good way to kind of feel like I was doing something that was sort of nothing when I didn't want to do anything. Eventually my mom and Mona and I put up a new design.

 

 

Both Ian and the dog help when I'm down. Domino's so sweet and in the moment. She's funny to have at work when she's not barking at passing dogs. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Quinn and I stumbled upon an image of me walking Domino near the store on Google Maps!

I finally put a decorative thing at the end of our banister. The space looks wired for a light, but not in a way we've every figured out how to use, so I finally just found something I could switch on at the base, and is merely a shiny ball when it's off. I like it. Not an important house project, but one I'm glad I finally did.

 

November was a whirlwind of luthier adventures. I had been working on two violins and a viola with the intention of putting the viola in the Violin Society of America (VSA) competition. That instrument was a commission, and I asked the player if it was okay to enter it, with the understanding that that would mean making decisions dictated by a particular timeline. He encouraged me to go for it, but the homestretch was exhausting. Mostly because getting oil varnish done in time was cutting it close. 

The first of those instruments to get finished was the Guarneri model violin. I am very pleased with how it came out and it is happily being played by its new owner. I only use my personal bridge stamp on instruments I've made, and I enjoyed getting to use it again.

Varnish in evening light

On top of already feeling rushed with the viola, about a week before the convention I accidentally set the it down on a polishing rag while I was working on the pegs, and the alcohol in it dissolved through a section of varnish on the back. I spent about a day and a half indulging in the fantasy that I could simply retouch it, but finally admitted the right thing to do was strip the back and do it again. What a nail-biter. But the finished color I think is beautiful, and I got useful feedback from the judges, and the player is happy, so it's all fine.

Nooooooo!

Having to strip the whole back was painful, but necessary.

Finding morning light on the porch

Michelic viola!

 

 

All labels and stamps must be covered for the competition

 

On the competition table

Competition stuff is always odd to explain to people. They always ask how I did, and short of an award (which at this level is not really a possibility yet) I don't know what to say. I go to learn things. Some of it is very useful, and some of it is too subjective. A lot of the things that appeal to me aren't often things judges like. The best way I can describe it is like the Westminster Dog Show. The judges there aren't that interested in if you have a really nice dog, they want the dog to fit a set of standards.

So, for instance, the judges didn't like this dark streak where the maple on my viola sucked in a lot of color. One referred to it as "burned." Some of that has to do with the fact that I had to strip the back and go faster to color than I would have normally. But honestly, that streak is one of my favorite parts of that back. I like it.

 

The convention overall was one of the best ever. I love getting to meet so many people in my field in person that I already feel I know. I love getting to room with my friend Robyn at these events. I love learning things, and laughing at luthier jokes, and generally feeling like I'm with my people. 

There were some great lectures and demonstrations.

 

There was trivia night, good stuff in the vendor room, and a tin-can-violin making competition which included googly eyes and a lunch box.

 

A highlight was playing on instruments in the New Instrument Exhibit as an orchestra. I got to sit with my friend Marilyn, Darol Anger was in the violin section and treated us to some amazing improv

Emanuel Hill, our fine conductor!

We were early. The full viola section was mighty!

There was even a red carpet glam night for the awards ceremony, and Robyn looked even fancier than usual.

Although, speaking of looking good, Robyn and I were both amused by the fact that in our bathroom there were two mirrors, and in one we always looked nice, and then if you turned and looked in the other one it was.... not good. It was disconcerting! Because I would get ready to go, feel confident looking in the mirror above the sink, and then have to not glance to my left because then I felt frumpy and bad. This was my view in the good mirror. (Not showing you the bad because the internet is forever.)

The convention was in Indianapolis this year, which is where one of my childhood friends lives who I haven't seen in way too long. I missed the whole first day of lectures because hanging out with Jennifer was more important. She's still the best, and even provided me with lip balm when I needed it most.

The week following the convention was Thanksgiving! We had a full house this year with all our kids home, my mom, and my brother Barrett and his family. It was wonderful. We wound up with many many many pies, cheese appetizers that looked like pie, and the orange jello was weirdly in between. Not goo, but only short lived as a shape.

cheddar, crackers, cream cheese.... cute!

Aden, to my great delight, managed to repair our broken pachinko machine that weekend. We even replaced the battery in the back so it lights up when you hit the jackpot.

Mona's bird visited for the day. I miss that loud silly bird.

Barrett signed copies of his book with beautiful drawings for different family members.

He also brought me a mysterious book he found in Germany full of music I can't decipher. If anyone understands these clefs let me know!

Aden also became very good with plants over the summer, and took some time to tend all kind of things in pots over Thanksgiving break. My mom is an accomplished gardener, so it's interesting to see that skip me and land on Aden.

I played some fun concerts at the end of 2024. Playing with Festival City Symphony is always nice, but the most unusual venue was with Milwaukee Mandolin Orchestra at our Waukesha concert, because we played on a stage set up for a performance of the musical Legally Blonde later that night. Unusually pink for a holiday concert!

 

 

Mona continues to make adorable things for her Etsy shop:

We managed to go through not one, but two cookie presses this year, and finally bought a third one that we're hoping will last through this year into next. We have so many little cookie press discs at this point I decided to get a little tree to hang all the spares on.

The kids this year mostly got cards from us that reminded them that we provide College! Housing! Healthcare! Hugs! Domino got a replacement purple monkey for the ravaged original purple monkey that came home with her from the shelter. She likes them both equally,

Old monkey

New monkey

On Christmas Day we drove to Detroit where my mom had an incredible dinner waiting for us. It was a chicken curry with a ton of different little condiments like plum chutney and avocado and bacon and nuts, etc. Each bite could be delicious in a different way. I can't imagine anyone ate better at Christmas than we did. I once asked my dad what his favorite food was, and he said, "Whatever your mother is making tonight." That's a good answer.

My mom also helped us make a zuccotto, which was a dessert recipe we pulled out of a Martha Stewart magazine more than a dozen years ago and never got up the nerve to try. We made it a whole day's project, with sponge cake pressed into a bowl and filled with whipped cream berries and a crushed Heath bar and the whole dome is covered with chocolate and there is a vanilla cream sauce on the side. That was really fun, and I actually think if I do it again I can do it much better. Maybe for my birthday.

New Year's was quiet enough that I don't remember what we did. Although I saw a video of a place not far from here that does an annual cheese drop at 10pm on New Year's Eve (why not midnight?) and I've decided next year we're doing that.

And I will leave you with this conundrum of signage that was recently added to my short commute.

This seems like a good metaphor for life right now, where we are supposed to somehow stop and never stop, step back but be involved, be appreciative and outraged and the same time, and somehow persist when so much feels hopeless. Welcome to 2025.