A recent article in Time magazine points out the dismal job prospects facing this year's college graduates. Here they are, newly hatched experts in various fields, with rejection slips outnumbering job offers. And, to quote Time, ". . .Then there's the last ditch option: going back home to Mom and Dad." This means that a lot of parents who expected to be suffering from the Empty Nest Syndrome are suffering instead from the "When will the Nest Get Empty Syndrome?"
The Empty Nest Syndrome has been discussed and written about and anguished over for years. The problem is, some people never get over it. Every parent feels it for a little while when the last chick leaves the proverbial straw house. It is extremely painful and we really go through the steps of mourning. Here is this child of ours, whom we have loved, nurtured and protected and defended as best we could from harm and spent huge amounts of money on. And now he/she is leaving us for the wild world of college or marriage or adventure, or whatever comes first.
I remember only too well when my two went off to college. Two times, eight years apart, I stood clutching the fence at Walker Field and watched the light of my life go sailing off on an airplane that I was sure would crash.
And if it didn't, how could those boy children possibly cope with airports and buses and dormitories and strange classmates and a whole new environment and all of California without me around to help? In each case I had received the standard demand, "I want to do it myself." And do it they did, although it was years before I realized how hard it had been for them.
They returned often, of course, at first with large bags of dirty laundry, then with roommates, later with girls, and eventually with wives and then with children. It is always a high spot in my life when they are here, but saying good-by will never again approach the awful emptiness of those two days by the fence at Walker Field.
And then comes the Empty Nest Syndrome. It is certainly real, but it is up to us to decide how long it will last. On the day that the last one leaves, after we sort of recover our balance a little, we mothers and fathers have a big decision to make. Do we take a deep breath, hitch up our proverbial britches and make a different life for ourselves, with the kids on the periphery? Or do we live the rest of our lives through our absent children?
When I decided to move out of the house that my boys grew up in, I gave them notice. I can't move it all. Sentiment is great, but there is not a lot of room for it in an apartment or a condo. Come and get what you want or risk having it pitched. One of them panicked, made a special trip to Grand Junction, and spent several days helping me pack and sort. The other took his chances. I threw away only one thing he has never quite forgiven me for - his collection of U. S. road maps from the forties. How could I have known?
I have a friend in Denver who recovered from the Empty Nest Syndrome very rapidly and she decided to avoid future problems. She moved to a smaller place and built a satisfactory life. She wrote up a contract which I cannot quote exactly, but in essence it said: "You are my children and I will always love you dearly. You are always very welcome in my home, as guests. Your guest welcome extends for one month. After that I will assume you are boarders and will charge board and room. You may bring your children, but no dogs or cats. You may not borrow my car except in case of dire emergency. I love you." Of course, she never showed it to them, but it did make her feel independent and by showing it around she became a wonderful role model for those in the throes of the Empty Nest Syndrome.
I'm still not sure which is more traumatic, the Empty Nest Syndrome or the "When Will the Nest Get Empty Syndrome." Either way it's a major challenge.