Confessions of a Stay-at-home-Mom

Time goes, you say? Ah no.

Alas. Time stays. We go.

 Henry Austin Dobson (1840-1921)

I came upon the above quotation a few days ago, and it struck me as particularly fitting for our family life as we embark on another school year - another school year in a long line of many, but with a very different feeling about it. I only have my two girls in public school now, one in grade eleven at the high school (her second-to-last year), and one in her last year of elementary school, which means grade six in our system here. The eldest began a term at a college in Vancouver this week and our second eldest, recently graduated from high school will spend this year working part time and taking a number of specialized music theory and history courses, as well as continued violin instruction, to prepare him for his Royal Conservatory examinations. He will remain at home for another year, which makes me happy, and I believe, him too. One child leaving home at a time seems like enough to me. I've never been very good at transition.

Yesterday, as my husband and I were busy in the back yard trimming the shrubs and cutting back the relentless ivy, our older daughter came out on the deck and asked what was for supper. As I pressed the back of my gardening gloved hand against my forehead, I responded that I was thinking of something easy to make, like nachos. She doesn't like the effect of nachos on her skin so she offered to make pizza. That would be the second or third time she has volunteered to make supper this summer, and while I have been very happy to let her do so each time, a small, wistful part of me has sighed because it is just one more sign that she is growing up. Don't get me wrong, I'm not one to be always wishing for small children again - I remember well how much work it was, how physical and demanding it was - I just wish their growing up had not happened quite so seemingly overnight.

These first few weeks with our son Ian living in Vancouver has been a bit strange. I fully admit to him being more than ready to be on his own, and to being somewhat ready for him to move out and move on with his life, but still, the house feels much emptier without him. His old room, now his youngest sister's, used to be crammed and messy with musical instruments and equipment, books and CD's strewn across the floor, posters of bands plastering the walls, and that particular teenage boy smell many of us know all too well - eau de potato chips and wet sock. After we moved him to his new place, we spent a week deep-cleaning his room and the room his sisters used to share, then painting and reorganizing. Now his old room is sparsely furnished with a few pictures, a bed, dresser and book case, some assorted girl things and a basket full of stuffed animals. Our youngest is beyond the toy stage so it remains to be seen what she will fill her new space with. I predict lots of writing paper everywhere, although, so far, she is keeping her new space fairly neat and tidy.

I am so glad I had a fourth child who will remain at home with us for a good number of years yet, so my adaptation to an empty nest will be allowed to happen gradually. She, and her dad and I were up at our favourite lake on Sunday. The other two who still live at home were both working at their summer jobs. As we set up our blankets in front of a log large enough to be a backrest, my husband said, "Just think. In a few years this will be us. All the time." I responded slyly, "You never know, someone may move back home by then," to which he said, "Oh no they won't." While my husband is incredibly proud of our children and their accomplishments, he would be lying if he said he wasn't looking forward to some more time and money to spend on ourselves.

And I? What will I do as my children advance further into independence? While the world and my bank account keep on suggesting I find some regular paid work, rather than temporary short stints sprinkled sparsely throughout the year, I still long to be primarily at home. I need to keep some brain space and some little corner of time to keep up the writing (see previous post for an expansion of this thought). I need to be free to cook properly for my family because that is the best way I know of taking good care of them. I need to regulate my energy so I have enough left over at the end of the day for my kids, for my overworked husband, and for the driving (and the driving instruction) I have to do this coming year. I find it interesting that many people believe that once their children become teenagers they need their parents less. In my experience, teenagers' needs change but they demand more 'presence' from their parents than ever. Emotional presence, especially.

Our household has always worked best with a household manager at the hub, and at this point that person is me. While Ian's move has changed the dynamic in our house noticeably, the need for me to carry on being 'Mom' has not changed. Three children still at home is not that much less than four - and there is one less person around now to help with the dishes. I carry on with my volunteer work, because that is also done from home and I believe I make a contribution there. Flexibility is the key to any commitment I make, though, especially since my husband has a second job as a head coach for our local Football Academy (that's soccer, not American football), which gives him both an integral mental and physical outlet for the stress of working in the hotel industry, but it does add yet another spoke to the household manager's hub.

As my children continue to 'go', as the quotation says, Time and I will stay at the center of our family life, managing everything with our own brand of controlled chaos. Someday, I may 'go' too. Just not yet.

Tree in Autumn by Emily Carr