Sarah Catherall
After 23 years raising daughters, Sarah Catherall has found herself suddenly an empty nester. Which is how she came to find herself in her youngest daughter’s room, sniffing her clothes, trying not to weep…
Welcome to Midlife Musings with award-winning journalist Sarah Catherall. Sarah has spent more than 30 years writing for publications such as New Zealand Listener, The Post, The Spinoff, Vanity Fair and the BBC. She’s also the author of How to Break Up Well: Surviving and Thriving After Separation. Sarah is currently embracing her midlife years and in this instalment she writes about the pain and joy of becoming an empty nester.
After I dropped my youngest daughter off to university last year, I walked into her bedroom and it was as though she was still there: I could smell her perfume and she’d left a few of her things scattered on the floor. I didn’t go so far as Gordon Ramsey, who was so distraught when his youngest left home that the celebrity chef confessed to wearing his son’s pants. But I did sniff my daughter’s clothes, and then I closed her bedroom door and tried not to weep.
I had felt this same emotion twice before, when Mia’s older sisters both left the nest. But this time felt different. My three daughters had left home, and my question was this: who am I without my children under my roof?
For 23 years, I’d had a child to think about, each year carved up into school terms. Even though I juggled work with parenting throughout those years, my true purpose felt like motherhood, planning and caring for three lives other than my own.
As suddenly as I was a parent of three young girls, and then three teens, I was an empty nester, and my emotions wavered like the swings I used to push the kids on not so long ago. The dining table felt cold and lonely, four empty chairs pushed up against it. We closed bedroom doors and only used half the house.
After many years of running the kids to gym, art and dance classes after school, a schedule which always encroached on dinner time, I was suddenly struck by a thought: I can do what I like, when I like. I can eat toast for dinner and actually, hell, I can also go to the gym at dinner time if I wanted to.
Of course, I’ve got to work, and walk the dog and cook the occasional meal for my partner and I, but it’s amazing how many hours of the day are spent thinking about kids or organizing their lives when they’re living at home.
I stared at my partner – the girls’ stepdad. We had lived together for eight years, but our relationship had always been interrupted by a child: I was like one of those Russian dolls, you get me but much of the time I’ll be caring or thinking about someone else.
What would our relationship be like now he could have me all to himself?
We became like a childless couple in our twenties. Shall we have sex in the middle of the afternoon? Yes, we can! Let’s travel to Queenstown to ski – and, guess what, we don’t have to go in the school holidays, we can go mid-week, when it’s cheaper!
There are a couple of ways to approach this new, empty nest chapter: take a breather, and pat yourself on the back for raising kids and always worrying about something or someone else. Definitely don’t weep or mourn their absence for too long, because they will come back, either in the holidays, or for extended periods when they can’t afford a flat. And part of our job as parents is to let them go, even though it can be tough.
Let’s celebrate the women who break away from their organized, overscheduled lives and reclaim this new empty nesting space as their time. What is it you want to do? The fastest growing travel category is solo women aged over 50 – they’re the ones who think “fk it’’ I’m off without anyone to tell me which museum I can visit and where I need to be at what time.
I published my first book last year, and even though Mia was very independent before she left home, I had the time and head space because I had no kids at home.
The other unexpected consequence of empty nesting is the excitement I feel as my three daughters progress into adulthood. I pinch myself as I watch them starting their adult lives. Who are they and what will they become?
When you’re sitting in parent teacher meetings, who imagines the day your kids will be fun to hang out with, when they’ve got over their annoying self-centredness and it’s like spending time with friends. I love going for a walk with my middle daughter, who also lives in Wellington, or meeting her out for dinner (at my cost, of course).
We’ve spent years advising our kids, and now it’s their turn to give us insights as well. My eldest daughter is 25 and far calmer and wiser than I was at her age.
Last week I was telling her that I miss the camaraderie of a workplace because I’m self-employed. She suggested to me on the phone from Melbourne, where she lives: “Mum, you should start a manifestation list. Manifest the people you want in your life.’’
Good idea, darling. Why didn’t I think of that?
