Messing the Nest and Saying Goodbye: A Back to School Saga

Since I’ve been on a roll all year with delayed holiday/seasonal blog posts, I’m going to keep my streak alive with my late #backtoschool commentary. Better late than pregnant never, as they say. Anyway, …

If your social media feed is anything like mine, it’s been filled these past few weeks with a bevy of #firstdayofschool photos. Preschoolers, grade schoolers, and high schoolers, smiling — and sometimes scowling — as they hold signs and carry new backpacks before they board the bus. Or maybe it’s been streams of #collegekids. Excited co-eds wearing their school logo’d t-shirts, showcasing their new #dormlife and hugging their teary-eyed moms goodbye. Because my 13-year-old started his last year of middle school before Labor Day and a few days later we brought my 16-year-old to boarding school in Connecticut (gulp!), I’m guilty of posting one of each for the first time (minus the signs and new backpacks because I don’t do the Pinterest-sign thing and at least one of my kids is using last year’s bag).

In the past, I’ve posted the obligatory #backtoschool photo and blog piece with some snarky comment about finally getting my life back. [Side note: Until your kids move out, you don’t really get your life back just because it’s September; You just get a new morning routine and a few extra hours during the day — that’s it.] But this year, it feels different. This year, it is different. And frankly, I’m a little surprised by my reaction to it all.

I didn’t think I’d be that mom. You know, the one who waxes poetic about empty nest syndrome, missing her son, and how hard it was to say goodbye. But apparently, I am that mom. At least on some days.

For many reasons, I struggled with the decision to allow my first born to finish high school at a prestigious boarding school nearly five hours away from home. [Yes, I realize how pretentious that sounds. #firstworldproblems.] After much deliberation and debate, I ultimately agreed, but I’d be lying if I didn’t say I still had my doubts about it being the right decision after the fact. To make matters worse, in the months leading up to his departure, my just-turned-16-year-old son was a royal pain in the ass. He deliberately pushed every button I have, every button his brother has, and to some degree, his father’s as well (although, he’s harder to ruffle than my youngest and me). It was non-stop and he seemed to enjoy getting a rise out of us, which irritated me even more. Consequently, I spent the last few weeks yelling at him and I’m pretty sure I called him an asshole on a few occasions, securing my position as “Mom of the Year,” for sure. [Sorry ladies, the title is mine. Try again next year.]

Some days, I wasn’t sure I was even going to miss him and I think his brother felt the same way. We clearly needed a break from each other, just as we do near the end of every summer. But after talking with a fellow mom who’s been there before, I learned a phrase that helped me view his behavior with a different lens. She called it, “messing the nest,” and explained it as a defense mechanism kids often use to make saying goodbye easier for them and us. By creating tension in the family for the weeks leading up to their departure, kids don’t have to face their sadness, fear, or apprehension about leaving the familiar for the unknown; It makes the transition easier.

Wow! Talk about eye-opening. This interpretation created a total shift in my perspective and changed my mindset around the entire situation. While I still didn’t condone or allow his crappy attitude and intentional misconduct, I was able to see it for what it really was — a tool (albeit, a negative one) to help him cope with the pending life changes.

So while the last two weeks of summer weren’t perfect, I did my best to make them memorable. We enjoyed a week-long vacation at the beach with family, and I even threw together a last-minute going away party with 50 of his closest friends. All in all, I think we ended on a high note and straightened up the nest a bit before his departure … Unfortunately, I cannot say the same for the state of his bedroom.

As we said our final goodbyes, I was both happy and sad. I was proud of what my son had achieved to make it there and excited for him to have this amazing opportunity, but I was also sad and selfishly feeling abandoned two years too soon. I’ll admit, I cried and held him a little longer than he may have liked, but he let me and that made all the difference.

While he’s adjusting to life as a boarding school student, we’re back home adjusting to life as a family of three. I still buy too many groceries and cook too much food, but at least there’s less laundry and less noise now. #silverlinings, right? Now if only my 13-year-old would grow ten more inches so he can reach the high shelves for me like his brother did. I miss that — and I miss him. We all do.

-LJDT