It was the start of first grade for my youngest child. I remember standing among the other camera-wielding ‘mamarazzi’ waving to our children as their stubby legs, barely visible below bulging backpacks, stumped their way in a line behind their new teacher into school. We all lingered there, suspended for a few minutes. The swoosh of the closing door had seemingly sucked the energy from the air around us.
Then, bit by bit we moms bade our farewells to each other, grasping for something to define what would come next.
“Off to get laundry going!”
“Gotta run to the grocery store, once I figure out what we’re having for dinner!”
Stepping into a silent house myself after the short walk from school felt anti-climatic in the wake of the morning’s hubbub. After 10-plus years of parenting nearly 24/7, I now would have six hours each day to myself. Six glorious hours. Why didn’t I feel more like celebrating?
Looking back, four years later, I understand was happening with me: I was coping with an identity shift. I had been envisioning what this day would be like, but when it arrived I wasn’t sure. Would the dream I’d held onto of how I would use those six hours become reality? Could I forge a writing career out of six-hour days, while still being a good mother?
Every year hundreds of moms face that same moment when the door of the school closes on their youngest child entering full-day education. Not all of them face the uncertainty of furthering a career dream like I did. Many already have lined up a list of chores and projects that will fill the coming days and weeks. They have their calendars marked with volunteer hours at their children’s schools or in their churches. They plan meet-ups with other moms, the next iteration in mommy gatherings once playdates are no longer a necessary excuse for socializing.
But in between the cleaning and the get-togethers comes that silent house. That space where, if we pause long enough, we’re forced to ask ourselves, “now what?” Now, without children to bathe and feed and entertain, what will I do? Who am I when I am not being a mom? If you haven’t been alone in your own home for six, ten, or even more years, the silence and the question can seem scary.
If right now you’re in that place of entering a house empty of children for a few hours and wondering “now what,” be courageous enough to face the question head on. Don’t bury it under endless mind-numbing activities. Honor yourself enough to consider what you might want your children’s school years to look like for you. Is it time for you to go back to school yourself? To seek certification in a certain area? To choose a new setting for volunteering? Or dabble in a hobby you’ve been considering?
Go ahead. Ask yourself, “now what?” See what answers surface. You might surprise yourself.
For now, I’m enjoying the writing life. But I’m also continually reviewing my goals and dreams. Because I know all too soon the next transition in my children’s livee will come. And I want to be prepared with a more certain answer for the next “now what?”
**Editor’s Note: Cortney Fries’ article in Chicago Parent gives some great examples of parents who found an answer to the “now what?” in a career change. I hope you’ll check it out! **
Good advice. Like our children we go through many transitions and it is important to value that and be open. As my oldest enters high school I see the empty nest on the horizon so I am thinking about that next stage.
Congrats on becoming a high school mom, Sue! Life as a mom is a series of transitions, isn’t it!