I know that most women feel at some point in their lives, after the kidlets have grown up and moved on, that they have no purpose and their lives have no direction. The whole “Empty Nest Syndrome” thing. Its very real, and I do believe it exists… but I honestly don’t think I’m ever going to feel it.
Right now, I wish with all my heart that my knucklehead could get his license, get a job, and get a place of his own- in that order. I want him to have the stress and the freedom that comes with a salary. I want him to have the worry and the pride that comes with earning your own money. I want him to have the freedom and the excitement that comes with going gallivanting and locking your own front door- and not having to tell your mom where you’re going first.
The other day I came home from work to an empty house. He was still at the shelter. The TV was off. The cats were asleep. And there was not a sound except the ones I made. It felt so surreal… yet blissful.
I found myself wishing I could come home to that every day…
… and then hating myself for wishing it.
Make no mistake. When my darling Damien eventually does move out, I am going to miss him like crazy. I love him too much not to. Today, we chilled on the couch and watched “Star Trek” while we shared a huge bowl of popcorn. We love each other and laugh at each other and we get each other… But right now- as selfish as this sounds- this is time I want for me. I want to devote my time to my interests and put me first. I want to put my Glugster and our relationship first. I have plans for me and for my future, and I shelved them when he was a baby. It was a decision I made consciously and without malice. And it worked for us. He needed all the attention I could spare when he was growing up, and I gave him that, with all my heart. I don’t want him throwing a mini-tantrum when he can’t have cigarette money. I get annoyed when he sends me a text asking me to pick up some Coke on the way home. He is contributing in that I make him cook supper several times a week. Packing and unpacking the dishwasher is his responsibility. The cats’ litter boxes, the dustbins and his bedrooom are his responsibility. He has to work at the animal shelter several times a week. He also takes care of several cupcake collections for me, and he gets a tiny bit of cash for these chores… but he has DSTV, internet access, swimming pool, pool table, his own bathroom, a maid, everything he could want or need to eat… and because he’s unemployed he can’t pay board and lodging.
Make no mistake, he knows he’s supposed to be paying rent. We’ve discussed it many times over the years so its no suprise to him.
I knew, when he was growing up, that he wouldn’t be up and out of the house as soon as he turned 18. I knew that. I wasn’t expecting him to move out as soon as he turned 18 years old. But he’s quite happy to coast. His lack of motivation breaks my heart because I don’t know how to inspire him.
And I so badly want him to move forward.