Hittin' the Road

One of the best things about having grown children who have flown the coop is the freedom their father and I now have to drop everything, pack a bag, and head out of town. Our latest adventure was a quick four-day trip down to Kentucky to do some work on the lake home we are hoping to sell. We knew going in that this was not going to be a "vacation" but anytime I throw my clothes in a suitcase and check into a hotel (hello, Super 8) is a holiday to me.

An eight hour car ride (especially one without the radio) tells you a lot about your relationship. By the time we stopped for lunch, our conversations had already covered everything from our adorable grandson (okay, his antics kept us going for at least a hundred miles) to the nation's rising racial tensions. By the time we reached our destination, it was obvious that even after thirty-one years, we still had not run out of things to talk (or laugh) about.

For the next two days we raked, cut bushes, moved furniture, painted, sucked up endless varieties of bugs, and packed as many boxes as our humble SUV could handle. We also basked in the first really warm days of Spring, hung out at the local marina, chatted with our friendly neighbors, took a walk in the forest, ate Chinese, and shared a kiss under an impossibly starry sky.

Yep. Being an empty-nester has its moments.

Just You and Me, Kid

My husband used to travel for business . . . a lot. He would often be gone for 2-3 weeks at a time negotiating deals in Hong Kong or sizing up a possible acquisition in Jaipur while I busied myself signing the kids up for Park District swim classes or attending middle school band concerts. Don't try this at home but we even lived apart for longer than I care to admit when he finished up an assignment in Germany and, later, took a job in Virginia that he feared might not work out long enough to uproot the kids. Even when we were clever enough to be living in the same zip code, my hubby tended to be one of those Type A personalities who worked fourteen hour days and weekends. Long story short - we spent a lot of time apart.

Lately, not so much. For the last year, my better half has been working out of a home office, establishing a media business as well as trying to get some consulting projects off the ground. We've gone from being separated by an ocean to being separated by nothing more than a staircase. It's great to have him around more but, now that we're the only two people living in the house, it's also an adjustment.

As newly-christened empty-nesters, we're bound to hit a few speed bumps as we try to re-invent our relationship while we each try to re-invent ourselves. Whether it's taking a walk around the block or making a spontaneous trip to McDonald's for one of those $ .49 cones, we're in the early stages of converting our routine into something that resembles the one we signed on for when we said, "I do". Hopefully, we can avoid the pitfalls of other long-time married folks who found out they had nothing to say to each other once the kids hit the road. Since I still find my hubby one of the smartest, funniest, most challenging people I know, I doubt I have to worry about that one.

But trying to interrupt me after the new People magazine is delivered? That could be a deal breaker.

Careful What You Wish For

When I started writing this blog a few years ago, my goal was to document my transition from full-time mom to whatever I turned out to be when I grew up. (Still waiting.) Since my original mission statement, "All I ever wanted to be was a mom; now all I want is to get my kids out of my house") still resides on my page, you could easily conclude that a) Not much has changed and I'm still eagerly awaiting their departure or b) Things have changed but I'm just too lazy to come up with a new sound-bite for my weekly journal.

As of yesterday, it's a little bit of both.

I've known for awhile that my son has been contemplating a major life change. I got a big clue when he moved back in with us in December, a week after our daughter packed up her stuff and vacated her room for good (or so she says . . . married, pregnant offspring have been known to show up on their parents' doorsteps . . . or have you not seen Father of the Bride Part II?). After living on his own for two years, I knew he wasn't heading back to the ranch for my home cooking or sparkling conversation - he was coming back because he knew it was the quickest way for him to save up the cash he needed to get out of Dodge for good. All this togetherness would be temporary; he had made up his mind; he was finally going to relocate to his habitat of choice - Colorado.

And now we have a date.

On August 9th, my husband and I will become empty nesters. We will help our son pack up his belongings (a lot of clothes, a laptop and several crates full of Legos) and load them into a POD bound for Denver. We will stand on the driveway and wave as he pulls out of the cul-de-sac, knowing that we're going to go from seeing him every day to seeing him two or three times a year. We'll walk back into a quiet house and realize that that day I so glibly wished for when I started writing this blog, has finally arrived.

Funny. I don't think I'll feel like celebrating.