When you have eight kids...

"So, mom? Nick and I are thinking of getting an apartment together in September."

Adam stands before me, all six feet of his 19-year-old self, his brown eyes calm. No anxiety, no "how will mom take this" in his face.

Between the two of us, my husband and I have eight kids.

Mothers tremble when their babies leave the nest. Good mothers do. They worry, they ache, their soul yearns for the child-turning-adult who is leaving. Because at nineteen, he thinks he's an adult, but a parent knows better. Not a child, nor yet quite an adult. So much room for disappointment, confusion, mistakes. How will he cope with the world out there? How will the world treat him?

And how will mom cope without him? The big, gaping hole in the nest. A major centre of your life, gone.

When my eldest left the nest, she was comfortably sure I'd cry. Comfortably sure. She clearly liked the idea. It was a reasonable assumption, too: all her other friends' mothers had cried, and me? I sure fit the mold of the type who'd cry. I stayed hom with my kids all their lives. At first, I had a husband to support us finanacially; I did a day or two a week supply teaching. Then, a single mother, I supported the family by working from home during the week. For the first exhausting, financially desperate year of the separation, I worked seven days a week: at home Monday - Friday, then away from home on weekends.

I homeschooled for the first ten years of their lives. I was there. A single parent, a work-at-home parent, a home-schooling parent. And I loved it. I love being a stay-at-home mom. I loved homeschooling them. I even loved being a single parent. It was a helluva lot easier than parenting in the frightening, draining emotional maelstrom that had increasingly been my first marriage. Being with my kids has always felt natural, seemed right, has been just so comfortable for me.

I'm a good mother. And good mothers cry when their babies leave home.

"So mom? Nick and I are thinking of getting an apartment together in September."

When you have eight kids, it's not so much an empty nest...

And through my head run threads of thoughts. "That gives me three and a half months to try to teach him some financial sense ... budgeting, the boy needs to learn to budget ... the basement room will be empty, wonder if his sister will want it?... good thing he has a decent job ... wonder if Nick'll get into college ... lordy, that apartment will be a pit ... no more tripping over giant boots in the entry ... how often will he come to visit ... can give him that box of china in the back porch ... will we need to rent a truck?"

All sorts of things.  But ...

I'll let you in on a secret: I don't cry. I don't even worry overmuch, and I certainly don't pine. In fact, the primary feeling in every case -- and this will be the fourth -- has been relief.

Because really, what is the goal of parenting but to raise considerate, functional, contributing adults? Considerate, functional, contributing adults who will leave home? So when they go, that's another milestone accomplished on time, another sign I'm doing it right, yes?

I have some worries. I know the boy's foibles and weaknesses. I'm fully aware of certain things that are going to cause him problems. I will observe, as much as I'm allowed, with a mother's concerned eye. I will offer, as much as I'm allowed, advice and support. But, and this causes an unadulterated bubble of glee within me:  As of September, we could possibly be down to one child in full-time residence in the house.

Imagine the freedom!

More food: no more discovering the meat for an evening's meal for the entire family has been consumed by foraging male in search of after-work "snack".

More space: no more clutter of enormous footwear in the front hall.

Less worry: he can wander in at 2 a.m., and I won't know anything about it.

More space: a freed-up basement bedroom, which my youngest will likely snatch means a freed-up bedroom on the second floor -- which means ... oh, be still my heart ... a study for me!

Less worry: he can omit to call home when he's going to be late, and I won't be the one wondering where he is.

More space: no more office in the dining room!!

I wonder how he'll do, if his inherent slovenliness and Nick's inherent tidiness can happily co-exist; if he'll be able to juggle school and work; if he has the discipline to meet deadlines in a timely fashion. I make contingency plans. If he has trouble managing his finances, I can do A, B, and C. If he fails a course, or even a term, before he learns to effectively manage his time, we can do X, Y,and Z.

I am not unconcerned. I will not be uninvolved. I will always, always be there for him.

But I am miles and miles and miles away from tears.

My son might be moving out in September!!!

When you have eight kids, it's not so much an empty nest as it is the light at the end of the tunnel.

Comments

[Lynn K.]

I only have 2 kids and am hoping when the one is done with college, she moves out.....please. Be independent, live your own life, do your own thing. Like you said, "I am not unconcerned. I will not be uninvolved. I will always, always be there for (her)."

I am hoping that for the 2nd one too, but that is years down the road....

[Daisy]

Just hope that the light at the end of the tunnel isn't an oncoming train...
Just kidding. Good luck!

[McSwain]

Great post, and great perspective!

[Zayna]

Amen!

Son, almost 20, just moved out.

Sure I wish for his sake that he knew better how to handle his money, kept his belongings in order and didn't live as though shelves and drawers haven't been invented.

But he'll learn better out on his own, likely from his roommates, that "Mom sure put up with a lot from me."

I too am relieved...and I didn't cry either...I will admit part of me wanted to.

Though, unlike Hubby who could hardly contain his excitement, I didn't do a happy dance.

But I did wonder what I would do with the extra room in the basement. :)

[Emma kw]

My hubbie bought his first house at age 19 in 1986 with a buddy. I moved out at 17 to work in a hotel. Neither of us went broke, got arrested, starved or forgot to do laundry!! And our son has been told he has 1 month after college graduation to find somewhere to live!! No returning to the nest - now it's our time!!

[julie]

My 19-year-old son is home for a long weekend from his first year of college, but going back Wednesday to move into his first house. (Provided the other guy has his stuff out, which he did NOT when the dorms closed Friday, hence the long weekend at home!)

I'm only a little sad, mostly at times such as when we asked where his bike was, and he said, while sitting on our couch in our house, "At my house."

Not too sad, but, a lot scared. Thank goodness there's no lease, and the third guy is responsible for writing the actual rent check. Hehe.

And ... I wouldn't sit on the carpet in that place if you paid me a buncha dollars, or stand in certain places where the floor sags. But they think it's really cool????!!!!

[Florinda]

My son's been on his own for just about a year now. I think we were all ready for it. He's staying afloat pretty well, and as you phrase it so well, I remain neither "unconcerned nor uninvolved;" but the nature of the concern and involvement has changed, and I'm quite comfortable with it.

Besides, with the part-time residency of my two stepchildren (ages 13 and 8), it's like the world's longest "empty-nest transition" from part-time to full-time.

I'm glad you shared this, and hope you had a great Mother's Day!

[Sherra]

Oh yeah, you're doing it right!! And you're allowed to be gleeful too!

My 18 year old firstborn is plotting to do the same thing in September as he turns 19. The whole goal of this parenting gig is to work ourselves out of our job, right? So much they must learn on their own no matter how much we want teach them before they go…