WHAT NOW

Or turn the table and ask a new question...

We had spent a fun-filled family day in historic St. Augustine.

Because this was one of our favorite ways to spend the day together, we had our routine down pat. First stop was the Alligator Farm to see Gomek, the seventeen-foot saltwater crocodile from Papua New Guinea. His specially built enclosure had above ground and underwater viewing areas that allowed you to see him leap out of the water at feeding time. It was an amazing sight and no wonder he was the farm’s featured attraction. Then we would take a familiar route through the historic old town to the weapons shop to gaze at the medieval swords and axes. After that, on to the pizza parlor for lunch, with a final stop at the chocolate factory for treats before getting in the car to drive home.

We would arrive home standing a little taller, as if we had just received a good parenting blue ribbon. My husband and I would make a beeline straight for the couch, and before the footrest had fully extended, we would hear, “I’m bored.” I can’t say that we were surprised. Those were the years when our son was bored with everything.

Recently, I was reminded of the time he spent a week with his grandparents in Indiana. His grandma made a collection jar and charged him twenty-five cents every time he said, “I’m bored.” I shouldn’t have been glad to hear about the jar, but I was. I was glad because, somehow, I thought it meant it wasn’t my fault that he was bored.

As a parent, I made myself responsible for everything to do with our kids. When they had a success, I had a success. When they had a setback, I had a setback. And, you know, I don’t think that was necessarily a bad thing … unconditional love and all that jazz. Everyone needs a cheering section. My parents are still my best cheerleaders, and I’m fifty years old! (Excuse this little white lie, I’m over fifty years old, but I read somewhere that once you reach fifty, you can stop counting until you’re sixty).

Remembering those days and how I found it easy to lose my own identity when I was so focused on the kids lends some clarity to what I’ve been experiencing now that they have left the nest. For three years, I’ve shared my stories and cautionary tales. In the beginning—when the nest was still warm because the kids occasionally returned home—I struggled with loneliness and a lack of purpose. We’ll call that phase Year One.

In the second phase, Year Two, I tried to force my husband into the role of sidekick. I believed that it was perfectly reasonable for him to stop doing what he had been doing for years while I was busy with the kids and start doing things my way. As I’m sure you can imagine, this approach was not successful.

Then, I made another rookie mistake and looked at social media, which opened the flood gates for feeling sorry for myself. Seeing all my friends having so much fun, traveling the world, and attending parties, I wondered, “What is wrong with me?” Why wasn’t I invited to these parties? Why was everyone else having fun when I wasn’t? I sat by my phone like a teenager, waiting for someone to call.

Now that I’m rounding the last lap of Year Three, I’m ready to add a new approach to this next phase. I’m going to stop looking through the passive-aggressive lens of life, waiting for a shoe to drop and asking myself, “What now?” I’m going to turn the tables and invite you to join me.

Let’s have some fun!

Each day will be an adventure if we just ask … NOW WHAT?

Photo by Mohamed Nohassi on Unsplash