Leaving the Nest – Mainline Media News

My husband and I officially became Empty Nest Syndrome, but it took time for the designation to match our reality. When the first of our four kids was first launched 10 years ago, he left home to live in different places with his friends and the band was disbanded. I felt like. Even before that happened, we lamented the fact that they had their unique talents and temperaments, each peeling off one by one. How do all the band members enjoy classical songs without playing? Then our son went home to live in between work, but a few years later he left forever. Others have left and are back. For the other states, one finally landed far into Japan. Maybe we kept saying that we had empty nest syndrome to prepare for what was actually happening, but the process was neither sudden nor final. For young people to spread their wings, it takes a lot of time for energy, desires, plans, and anything underneath to keep them in the air. Sometimes they come together all at once, and sometimes it takes time to capture the right flow. This spring, at the end of our four children, we packed her belongings (and some of us) into a car and set up permanent residence in New York City. Finally, all the children are gone.

However, almost as soon as her daughter left home, a small brick settled in. Each year, she or one of her siblings jumps into the breeze of our kitchen, holding a stick in the beak that heralds spring. One day, the cluttered pile of straw that remained from last year begins to stir with the sound of life. Is there one or five birds? It’s hard to know. It starts faintly at first, but over the weeks, the bark grows with primitive ferocity. Suddenly, we then see their slender necks tense on the edge of the nest, pushing their gaps and beaks forward and pantomimeing the basic requirements of life.

Seeing how often Ren gets off to meet her chick’s demands reminds me that being a young mother is ridiculously busy. Seeing a sleeping baby is like seeing a bunch of sleeping energy. Our parents are staring at the ability to compare nose and eye similarities to fathers and grandmothers, but in reality they are all just poster kids with amazing blueprints of human life. is. Nourishing what needs to grow rapidly can be exhausting. For mothers, sometimes those screams hit like a screaming shock in your name wherever you are and even permeate your unconscious. It’s easy to feel overwhelmed by the 24-hour demands of work. It’s strange at first, but am I doing it right? Are they growing? Is it enough? It doesn’t matter how often they cry. The mother listens to each call as her life itself depends on it. From time to time, my baby spent enough energy to fall asleep in the process. Her husband and I called it “milk drunk”. Their slender limbs suddenly relaxed like a rag, their pink lips were sucked into the air lost in their feeding dreams, and milk drips from their smooth face.

My husband and I go in and out of the kitchen door, keeping in mind that we are being watched by our jerky mother. As we stay near the nest for a long time, she plunges and bombs us, reminding us that we have stepped over. One day we became lazy and kept the kitchen door wide open while bringing in groceries. Len decided to flip the script over and check our nest and flew inside. She flew upstairs towards the window of a large dining room, hoping that one of the many mirages would be freely connected. We opened all the doors and windows, but eventually one. After that escape, we avoided using the kitchen door altogether.

So I decided to check them out of the door window, and one day I was surprised to see all four chicks in full view. Three perfect miniature wrens have fallen asleep in the tumble that loosely forms the pyramid of the cheerleader’s team. The fourth bird fell asleep on its own and captured half of its nest in half. I am glad that there is room for individuality even in nature. They were drowsy and at least one was reluctant, but something still made them jump out of their nests, spreading their wings and preparing to fly. I take pictures and cheer, but then decide to move away from the window and give them space from our worshiped scrutiny. Check after 5 minutes and they are gone. This respectful engagement with Len (the boundaries aren’t too close, but not too close) is very similar to what I’m learning from afar with my launched children. But remembering to respect those boundaries may be a lifelong pursuit that requires a dive bombing by my children.

Like Ren, I am a retired mother. What does Motherlen do in the afternoon after her young bird takes her to the sky? Will her partner wrap her in his wings and bestow her festive peck? Will she cut through the exhilarating sky by regaining her freedom? Does she hide her tired head under her wings and meditate on her passage of time and her own death? It’s hard to know. At least, hopefully now that her grandchildren are navigating over the blue sky, she records her satisfying flicker in her well-done work.

CA Laren is a freelance writer living in Gladwin.

Leaving the Nest – Mainline Media News

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