The story of the Three Little Pigs has always been a parental favorite, because it's obvious, from the very beginning, which pig is going to win, and which pigs are going to lose. It is a cautionary tale, of course, and we read these moralistic fantasies to our children with a view to guiding them onto the right pathway. The story is all about hard work, doing things right, taking the time and effort to build the proper foundation so that you can withstand the storms of life.
If only it were so easy in real life.
Our family stands at a new threshold, one that is exciting, even thrilling, both for the two children who are fleeing the nest, as well as the mother who has anticipated this day for so long. I frequently hear children likened to baby birds leaving the nest, and flying for the first time. The parent birds even throw the reluctant fledglings out, getting them started on their own life journey. Perhaps that's true elsewhere, but doesn't really capture what I see in my world.
I think children are more like baby bunnies. I had the dubious pleasure of watching a nest of them grow to maturity a couple of weeks ago in dangerous proximity to a Jack Russell Terrier. When I accidentally discovered the nest, it was full of teensy little bunnies who did nothing but sleep in a pile deep in the ground nest. As the week went by, the pile grew larger, until it overflowed the nest, and finally, they were ready to leave. One by one, they hopped away, out into the big world by themselves, ready to take on the thrills and dangers of their future.
The Jack Russell, which I did take some care to keep away from the area, did not discover the nest until after they were out of it, and he is very disappointed, although clearly remaining hopeful they will return! There is no corollary in this story for him. I just figured I'd share.
I feel obligated to point out that this was not Peter Rabbit. These bunnies were not going to run home to mother at the end of the story, and if they got in trouble, she was no where to be seen. They were going to have to make it on their own, and if they got into Mr. McGregor's garden, they were likely to encounter a dog with a lot of teeth. This is real life, and it's a harsh world out there.
I have spent the last 25 years watching over my baby bunnies, and now, they will each flee in their own separate directions, very much like the baby bunnies as they left their nest.
The oldest, a full fledged college graduate with a fellowship at a great school ahead of him, and the thrill of graduate school on the horizon, is fully grown, self-supporting, and no longer a dependent in any sense of the word. I have watched him evolve during the last few years, and it has been a fascinating process, because this is the time where he has truly become an adult and a man, and is now ready to take on the world. He and I have adult conversations these days because suddenly, he sees things from an adult perspective, and he looks at life and the world and his future differently than he did even a year ago.
As a mother, I look at him with pride and a sense of a job well done. I have always seen, as my primary goal, making myself obsolete, and with him, I have reached the finish line.
I don't mean to imply that he doesn't still need, or perhaps more accurately want, me in his life. On the contrary, like most adult children, he calls on me frequently for help or advice of various kinds, especially when he runs into a new life situation for which he is not fully prepared.
But I know now if he had to, he could handle anything he needed to on his own. These days, when he calls for advice, he is really calling to talk over what he has already decided, and he has taken charge in a whole new way, which allows me to step back and step out of the way, and know that he is prepared for whatever life throws in his path.
My son has taken his time, done things right, and is building his house of bricks. He has planned, set goals, worked hard, and is now enjoying the fruits of his labors. It is a true thrill to see that happen, and to watch him realize his dreams. When the wolf tries to crawl down the chimney, I am confident that my son will be ready for him.
I learned this week, however, that the bunnies don't just run from the nest and disappear. They hop out of the nest and find the nearest safe place, and there they rest and prepare themselves for the big push out into the world. There is a maturing that takes place in the safety of the place near the nest - they have left, but they are gathering themselves for the big leap of faith that is life on their own.
My youngest is about to take that step and flee the nest, and find that first safe place where she will mature and grow up. Like most college campuses, it will be a mostly safe place for her to get ready to meet the world, although there will be dangers for her to deal with on her own. Each new challenge will be an additional step along the path of her maturity, a necessary part of the process of growing into adulthood.
Here is where the analogy stops, however, because unlike the mother bunny, who is out of their lives forever, I will still be here. They can return to the nest any time they want, and they know I will be here, more or less the same as always. There is a lot of comfort in that - as social creatures, it's important to each of us to know that we have our own tribe to look out for us.
A friend recently warned me that living alone is a wonderful thing, but you have to be very careful not to allow yourself to become a despot in your own kingdom. She pointed out that once your children move out, you no longer have anyone to disagree with you. Instead, you are in charge of everything all the time, you get to have everything your own way, and you never have anyone telling you what to do or taking charge of your time.
I have never lived alone, going straight from home to college, then graduate school and marriage. I feel I am on the cusp of an exciting new place in my life, one which will provide me with new opportunities for personal growth, and even to determine the course of the rest of my life. With my bunnies out of the nest, at least partway, suddenly, I have the freedom to please myself.
I will be able to sleep until 10 if I want to. [Of course, at almost 50, that is probably not in the cards, anyway, but it's the idea of it that appeals, more than the fact, anyway.] I can go to bed at 8 and watch a movie without having to think about when someone will be home. I won't have to schedule my days or nights around someone else's schedule.
The power may corrupt, I fear.
I have never had the ultimate say over my life. I have always answered to someone - parents, spouse, children, not necessarily because I had to, but because I have a lifetime of putting others first as my priority.
When my daughter was little, I had a long list of things I was going to accomplish when she went to school, and I would have all those hours every day to myself. Instead of knocking things off my list, I filled the time in other ways, largely to do with volunteering at school, and supporting my kids in their various activities.
I was a room mom for five straight years. I attended every band concert, almost every play performance, every recital, and more rehearsals than I care to remember. I have had the thrill of seeing my child perform in a national honor band, and a play that received international recognition. I coordinated, organized, participated in, and supervised any number of events, from field trips to band festivals to volunteer activities, and it has been worth every moment.
But I am looking forward to the opportunity to check some things off of my own bucket list, and to finally, at long last, reap the rewards of having given of myself to others for so long.
Sometimes you see bunnies frolicking on the lawn when they think no one is looking. They jump and dance and dart around, just enjoying life in the moment, without regard for the dangers they have passed through, or what may be ahead. I am anticipating some of those moments ahead for myself. If you happen to see a 50 year old woman frolicking through life, don't be surprised. She may be the mother bunny celebrating the empty nest, and watching her children building a house of bricks.
