By AMY SHANKLAND
Sandwiched
Sandwich Generation – a generation of people, typically in their thirties or forties, responsible for bringing up their own children and for the care of their aging parents. – Oxford Languages
While I would argue that this generation is often older, overall I believe this Oxford definition is spot on. I mostly talk about the struggles and triumphs with my mother in this column. But I don’t often focus on the other side of the coin – my children.
I just became an official empty nester last Friday. The best word I can use to describe this new phase of my life is “woah.”
You do what you can for months, or even years, to mentally prepare yourself for this stage. To say it’s a mix of emotions is putting things mildly. I’ve tried to stay positive for each of my sons over these past few months.
It’s nice that Jonathon can now get to IUPUI in 20 minutes vs. 45 thanks to his new apartment. He’ll be moving into a two- or three-bedroom one in November. I’m hoping he’ll enjoy the company of some good roommates. As a junior, I’m praying he’ll finally get a taste of some fun in college.
I’m happy for Jacob as he enjoys life in the “Bro House” as they call it. He’s living with three friends in a wonderfully restored old home near the Ball State campus. Two of these friends are twins whose parents bought the home and are renting it out. It’s a great set up for his sophomore year.
But reality has set in for me this week, especially since my husband has been out of town.
I went to the grocery store yesterday and spent less than $100. Woah!
I haven’t done laundry since Monday. Woah!
It’s been incredibly quiet and I’ve been able to get so much work done in my new home office. I’m actually working ahead on some projects, which is a concept I’d almost forgotten this summer. Woah!
And yet …
Each time I’ve walked into the boys’ rooms after they leave for college and see how empty and neat they now are … Woah.
Our savings made a “whoosh” sound as I drained them last week to pay the first semester’s tuition. Woah. (But I realize we are fortunate to be able to do this.)
Our laundry room doesn’t look right anymore. We all enter and exit out our back door, so we use this room constantly. Like many households, everyone takes off their shoes upon entering. With two boys and their friends, the laundry room often overflows with boots, sandals, tennis shoes, etc.
And I’ve loved seeing them each and every day. Now the room just has four pairs of shoes belonging to my husband and me.
I know we’ll see them soon, since both boys aren’t far. But the sight of those missing shoes brings a lump to my throat and makes me literally say out loud … Woah.