Do you think maybe the empty nest allows room for the return of that existential questioning begun in one’s early adulthood but interrupted (for, say, a couple of decades) by the immediacy of a beloved child’s needs?
Photo: Yet another in my ongoing series of photos surreptitiously shot at Dunkin’ Donuts. Like this one.
Tags: everything, existential questioning
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Let’s see. . . Timmy has saved the life of a rooster that Paul suspects was involved in cockfighting, but Skeeter, a neighbor’s hired hand, recognized “Clementine” as a champion fighter named Dynamite who was left for dead. Once Clementine was well again, Skeeter stole him*. . .
Oh, sorry. The BLOG! Meanwhile, back at the BLOG. Yes, OK, well . . . Blogwise, things have been quiet for a couple of months while we ironed out the technical difficulties encountered when Mothering.com was “migrated” (the official term, I’m told) to a new home. Like any good migration, different segments of the crowd arrived at their destinations at different times. And the Mothering blogs, chatty and independent and stubborn, took the long way home, finally arriving and settling in this week.
Hence, my extended “pause” in blogging.
So, now that I’m back in action, a brief status update is in order: My man Tim and I are still empty-nesters, but the bird flew home from Glasgow in mid-July for an idyllic few weeks of hanging out with friends, visiting old haunts (many of which just happened to be profferers of green chile), and working at the Santa Fe Opera. 
He even managed to squeeze in some baseball with his parents, just like old times. Now he’s back in school, though not in Scotland this year—much, much closer: New Mexico State, which is less than 300 miles away. And in the same time zone.
In my Mothering world, since my last blog post, we’ve put out a couple of issues of the magazine, launched our new web site, and moved my office (along with those of Staff Photog/Ad Production Manager/Web Production Ace Melyssa Holik and Managing Editor Melissa Chianta) to the space that used to serve as our library and product fulfillment area. So we have lots of room now for creativity . . .
Stay tuned!
*Lassie, Season 6, Episode 27, March 13, 1960. In case you missed it.
Top photo: While taking an early-morning exploratory walk around the campus of Reeve’s new school in mid-August, Tim and I heard a rooster greeting the day, turned the corner and came across this fellow.
Bottom photo: Reeve races for the ball, just one of many poorly thrown by his mother, who, yes, sadly, throws like a girl.
Tags: baseball, lassie, melissa chianta, melyssa holik, new web site, nmsu, reeve, rooster
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I’ve found myself complaining a lot this year about how “kids today” don’t seem to know how to write email—let alone old-fashioned pen- or typewriter-to paper letters—but seem to communicate using instant messenger-type programs or social networking sites like Facebook or MySpace. With Reeve in Scotland, this has come especially clear to me: he just won’t write—email messages or letters. At least not to Tim and me.
But now I may be changing my tune. The last few days, I’ve had several occasions where I wasn’t able to talk to Reeve via Skype or on the phone, but, needing to make sure he was OK, sent him short text messages via Skype’s chat function. In each case, he responded immediately, and these “chats” evolved into delightful discussions of a variety of topics, including critiques of YouTube performances we watched “together” (5,000 miles apart) as well as intellectual commentary on other shared informative links (like, well . . . Engrish.com, OK?).
In trying to relay the gist of these “chats” to Tim, I realized that I had the words right in front of me and could share what was said, verbatim. So this new (for me) way of communicating, this amalgam of letter-writing and talking on the phone has the added benefit of coming with a transcript! Something I can print out and sentimentally stash away, along with Reeve’s childhood drawings, cards, and notes from camp. . .
Above: a snippet from a discussion Reeve and I had yesterday regarding a piece of music he’s working on.
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Tags: chat, communication, email, reeve, skype, transcript
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Reeve is going to a birthday party tonight where everyone is supposed to dress as a Disney character.
He Skyped me from his dorm room in Glasgow as he was putting together his outfit for the evening: top hat, vest, jacket w/tails, upturned starched collar, umbrella, white (exfoliating) (“Whoa! These are cool!”) gloves, and . . . powder-blue Puma running shoes?
A cricket’s gotta be able to jump, I guess.
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Screen shot of Jiminy holding up his foot to try to show me his swift blue shoes.
Tags: costume, jiminy cricket, reeve, skype
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Last month, during the full moon, I got a call from a very emotional Reeve. Exhausted, sad, homesick, frustrated with his performance at school. Not sure what to do with himself during the upcoming three-week break between school terms. (He’d arranged to spend several days with two of his classmates at one of their homes in England, but didn’t know about the remaining two weeks.)
It was late, and I was still at work, trying to finish things up so I could go home, and I was emotional myself—aching for him but feeling that he really just needed to stop thinking and get some sleep.
Consequently, I was kind of short with him, listening for only a couple of minutes before saying bluntly, “So [rather than go out on an exotic adventure like all of us back home wish WE could] why don’t you just come on home for the break?”
He rallied somewhat. “That would be pitiful, Mom.”
We hung up, and I sat in the dark office and sobbed. Wishing Reeve could be happy where he was, wishing he could summon the oomph to claim this opportunity and make his upcoming spring break something he’d remember fondly. Missing him and wishing he would come home, then immediately feeling guilty for the thought.
The next day, he called to tell us he had found “hella deals” ($20!) on airline tickets! And was going to spend the last ten days of his break in Sardinia!
Sardinia? I had to look it up. (As our friend Seth put it later: “Sardinia? Is that a planet?”) (For the record, Sardinia is a large island off the coast of Italy. And, no, the people who live there are not called Sardines.)
I was thrilled, of course. And proud of Reeve for taking charge and pulling out of a potential emotional tailspin. And very, very nervous about him traveling alone in a country where he barely speaks the language.
These ups and downs. I don’t think the parenting books talk about how the emotional highs and lows (and the quick swing from one to the other!) of parenting continue even after a child is officially an adult. Or maybe they do, and I just wasn’t paying attention.
Above: Reeve kicking back on the shores of the Mediterranean. (Photo by Reeve Taylor)
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Reeve (on the phone, calling from Glasgow): “Hi, Mom. I just need some validation. Do you remember over Christmas holidays when I said I wanted to put a moratorium on buying new clothes?”
Laura: “No . . .”
Reeve: “O.K. Gotta go. Love you!”
Still not really sure what just happened. . .
Tags: clothes, phone call, reeve
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Tim and I just put our boy on a plane back to Scotland, and I am feeling the ache. A huge hole in my gut and in our house.
As I was walking back to the office, though, I got hit by a big surprising wave of perspective: But, wait. Reeve is independent, on his own now, and . . . potty-trained! And he falls asleep at night by himself! He plays well with others, and when he eats spaghetti, he no longer tosses the noodles onto his head but uses silverware and puts the stuff right into his mouth! He (often) says please and thank you and doesn’t complain about homework or throw candy fits in grocery store checkout aisles. He’s smart and funny and compassionate and cheery and somehow fully capable of getting himself across the ocean and back, fully equipped to get an education and pursue his passion and grow into a fuller version of the person he’s already kinda been all along.
Photo: A favorite family portrait from a visit five years ago to a place we love, the crumbling town of Vaughn, New Mexico. The boy already looking off in a different direction. . .
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Tags: growth, independence, perspective, potty-training, reeve, Scotland
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Ever notice how the word parent turns into the word parenthetical if you keep at it long enough?
That’s the parental goal, right? To teach and empower and be there so that, as the child grows, we become less and less the subject or object of his or her sentence, more and more a supporting clause . . .
(Photo of Reeve earlier this year, with his dad, Tim, receding into the background.)
Tags: parenthetical, parenting, reeve, tim, wordplay
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Lovely conversation with Reeve this afternoon. Here’s a shot (or, more technically, a webcam screen capture) of us blithely chatting across seven time zones. An amazing world we live in. . .
Is it just me, or do we look like an ad for a radio show?
Note to anyone about to do the long-distance parenting thing: computer-to-computer talking via programs like iChat or Skype is a must. And it’s FREE.
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That stuff they tell you about how one of these days your baby (and by extension, YOU) will sleep through the night, and you’ll be back to your normal routine from then on, sleeping all night every night? It’s a big fat lie.
Even now, more than 18 years since Reeve first slept through the night, he manages to keep me awake. And from thousands of miles away.
Since he left for Scotland at the end of September, I’ve found myself awake when I should be sleeping. Often. Late nights and early mornings. Talking with him via phone or Skype, emailing, Facebooking, or simply lying there in the dark, wondering or worrying or remembering . . .
Oh, well. At least the potty-training stuck.
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