Part 5

Beyond the Mommy Years: How to Live Happily Ever After... After the Kids Leave Home
by Carin Rubenstein Ph.D.

(Page 5 of 5)

Mothers agree, however, that they are never "free" of their children, nor would they want to be. It's just that, as another mom tells me, "I have time now to relax, and to take more of an adult role. It's another stage of life."

This stage of life - liberation from children - is both exhilarating and terrifying, all at once.

It's a launching platform from which mothers send themselves into a new kind of motherhood, one that includes generativity, the desire to extend yourself beyond family. The transition period, though, can take at least several years, or even a decade. When my children first left, I was in Stage One, Grief. (The stages of what I call MotherLaunch are discussed in detail in chapter 3.)

I cried at vaguely sad television shows and movies, for example. Anything heartfelt made me weep. A few years ago, when my daughter left for college, I removed her place mat, number four, from the table. Then there were three left, one for me, another for my husband, the third for my son. For the next two years, there were three mats, except during holidays and parts of summer vacation, when we were again, briefly, four. When my son left for college, though, I wasn't able to put away place mat number three for months.

Also, I wasn't used to all the enforced intimacy, all of this odd, uninterrupted time with my husband. So I watched TiVo while he watched sports on another television. (And I started a blog, called TiVoLady .com.) We both realized that we could walk around the house naked if we wanted to. One mom told me that she realized recently that her whole house was now available for sexual encounters. "We could have sex on the kitchen floor if we wanted, but who wants to?" She laughed.

The truth is that it takes time to get used to this newfound sense of liberation. Here's a short quiz to help you decide how well you've adjusted to having no children at home. Try to answer quickly. And be honest.

The Missing Motherhood Quiz

True or False?

1. On some days, you catch yourself at three o'clock or three-thirty wondering if there's something you forgot to do or someone you forgot to pick up from school.

2. You drive by the high school occasionally, or you still belong to school-related committees.

3. You call your children several times a week.

4. You check your e-mail, or your instant messaging service, to see if your children have sent you anything or are online at that moment.

5. Your child has banned you from sending instant messages.

6. You send care packages to distant children, several times a month, or more often.

7. You avert your eyes when you walk past your children's bedrooms.

8. You find yourself looking at babies and toddlers with unconcealed longing.

9. You consider it a good day when you have spoken to all of your children.

10. You dream of being pregnant again, or of carrying babies in your arms, or both.

If you answered "true" to at least six of these questions, you may be suffering from major mother disorientation, the mother of all mother shocks of disbelief that come when all of your children have left home.

This book is probably for you.

Don't fret, though. There are definite advantages to being child free. Now take this alternate test, to see how unplugged from motherhood you are.

The Rejoicing at Post motherhood Quiz

True or False?

1. You work late whenever you want.
2. You rarely feel guilty.
3. You don't bother shopping for groceries unless you feel like it.
4. You traded in the van, or the large car, for a smaller one.
5. You revel in how quiet and clean your house or apartment feels.
6. You spend more than fifteen minutes a day talking to your partner.
7. You watch what you want on television, for as long as you want.
8. You talk to your dog or cat, at length, and it doesn't seem strange.
9. You refuse to do laundry for returning children.
10. You've thrown away, or given away, most of your children's toys and books.

If you answered "true" to at least six of these questions, then your adjustment time may be much faster than you might have thought. That's because you've already learned to celebrate the pluses of life without children. You can work late and not feel guilty about it. You sense freedom, that your days are yours, your weekends are yours, you can do what you want, when you want. The house is clean and neat and quiet. The telephone is always available, and so are the television and the computer.

There's no more setting-of-example pressure. You can eat cereal and marshmallows for dinner; you can watch television for twelve straight hours on a Saturday; you can not make the bed. Nobody else will learn bad habits from you, except you.

A close friend says that when she had two boys at home, she was always aware of maintaining her privacy. Now that the boys are gone, though, she doesn't have to worry about what they see. Her husband walks downstairs naked to make breakfast, and she walks to and from the shower without a towel. "All my doors are open," she says happily.

And that is the point.

We did the best we could as mothers. We are thrilled that our children are ready and able to grow up and move out. And we are also delighted to let them go. At this point in our lives, all our doors are open.

How we live these postparenting years is entirely up to us.

If we treat this stage of life as a disaster, as a major loss that derails our sense of purpose as neatly as if we were a train running off a lifetime track, we are in for more than a little misery. If we are unwilling to fashion a newfangled self, then we may be trapped in a frustrating, and ultimately harmful, frozen mother mode for years to come.

But, if we view this time of life as a challenge, as an opportunity to chart a new course through life, it's possible that we'll accomplish more than we ever thought possible. Deciding that this new phase of life is a gift will require a near-complete reevaluation of ourselves, our roles in life, and our goals and priorities. But if we do, we will ultimately be rewarded.

The choice is ours.

Copyright © 2007 by Carin Rubenstein, Ph.D.

About the Author

Carin Rubenstein earned a Ph.D. in social/personality psychology from New York University, with a specialty in survey research. Her dissertation was a study of loneliness in America, which she published as a book, called In Search of Intimacy. In those early years, when she was quite young but didn't realize it, she worked as a research assistant for Gail Sheehy, conducting the survey work for several of Sheehy's books. Her first job was as an editor at Psychology Today, which in those days was a respectable, national magazine. She was also an editor, briefly, at The New York Times and at Time-Life (as it was known in those long-ago days). She has been a free-lance writer for many magazines, including Family Circle and Self and Glamour. She also wrote The Sacrificial Mother, about the dangers of giving up too much of yourself for your children. In recent years, she wrote for a regional edition of The New York Times. The moment that her second and last child left home for college, she rushed to her desk and wrote this book, mostly to avoid the pangs of loss.