Home Alone

This past weekend, I was faced with a situation I have rarely encountered since becoming a mom seventeen years ago.  The Son of Never Stops Eating and the Dad of No were going to the state Special Olympics swim meet, and the Teenager was going to a band competition that was being held several hours away. 

I was going to be home by myself.

This hardly ever happens to me.  Several years ago, the Dad of No decided to take the kids to visit his parents, who lived in another state at the time, and I was going to be home alone for three entire days.  The morning after they left, I ended up in the ER with abdominal pain which required the removal of my gallbladder to resolve. Instead of being home by myself for three days of introvert heaven, I ended up in the hospital. That was not what I had planned at all.

Also, it turned out the anesthesiologist didn't accept my insurance. That's a whole other story.

This time, I told myself, no hospital.  I was going to enjoy the quiet solitude. No one would be complaining about how there wasn't any chocolate milk in the refrigerator, or asking me if I wanted to watch Simpsons videos on the iPad.  I could read a book, work on my iNaturalist observations, and eat what I wanted when I wanted. I could go to the grocery store without ravenous teenagers lobbying for snacks with no actual nutritional value. I was going to get a small taste of what being an empty nester is going to be like.  It was going to be awesome.

My first home alone project was to declutter the teenagers' rooms.  This project required me to confront the reality that both of my kids have hoarder tendencies.  One has enough Legos to stock a large toy store, and the other has enough books to open up her own library.  This creates an interesting parental dilemma- it seems wrong to say that your kid has too many books. You can never have too many books, except perhaps when you have a small house with minimal shelving space. 

I have no idea what she plans to do with these books when she goes off to college, but, after years of encouraging good reading habits, I just don't think I can utter the words "Stop buying books!". Yes, I know, an e-reader would be the perfect solution, but there's just something wonderful about hard-copy books that a digital reader can't duplicate.  I think I'm just going to have to accept that there are going to be piles of books in that room for awhile.

I also realized that I wasn't the only one in the house that was used to having other people around.  The dog started giving me baleful looks, and then I realized that she wanted her walks.  That's usually the Son of Never Stops Eating's job, but he wasn't there.  Every time I looked at that mutt, she'd look back at me with that expression that says "I am NOT getting enough attention here! Step it up!".

That dog sulked the entire weekend. Clearly, even though she was getting her walks, I was not providing the high level of service that she is used to.  Every now and then she'd look over at the garage door, expecting her real attention-giver to walk through the door at any minute to rectify the horrible situation she found herself in. I was, evidently, a poor substitute. 

At least the hamster seemed okay with the situation.

It was really quiet.  It was too quiet. I started to miss my family. 

Actually, that's not entirely true. I was really enjoying the quiet.  I was getting periodic updates from the Dad of No on the Son of Never Stops Eating's swimming successes. I was following the band on Facebook and e-mail updates. I felt like I was still in the loop while reaping all the benefits of solitude.  But the house was making weird sounds, and the dog was being judgmental about my dog-walking skills, and the dishwasher wasn't emptying itself.  Finally, the Teenager came home from her band trip, and I was no longer alone. 

I'm not sure I'm ready for empty-nesting just yet; the family mutt clearly isn't.  But I did the grocery shopping three days ago and we still have food, so the weekend did have some benefits.