I have spent the last several days in an inner place in my mind, beginning to process the changes that are occurring -- one kid off to college, another off to college but still living at home, and a third not quite sure what her plans are, plus doing two high school graduations, selling a house, buying another, plus moving 90 miles and a world away from where we are now.
It's no wonder at times I feel a sense of vertigo; as if it's all spinning too fast and I need to step off the merry-go-round for awhile. I've felt more un-footed and rootless than I have in years, this during a time I thought I'd be doing a touchdown victory dance in the endzone of life. But sometimes no matter how much you prepare for a change, no matter how long you're expecting it for, when it finally happens you still find yourself a little in shock.
I've realized one thing I can do to help in the transition once we're moved in is to create some new traditions. When I first divorced and my son was very small, that was how I anchored myself in a new and strange life as a single mom. Once a week, we'd have Pajama Pizza Parties, where we'd come home, change into our jammies and sit and eat pizza in front on the fire on a picnic blanket. There was the Blossom Train in springtime, the pool in summer, Satterstroms around Halloween and a Christmas Cake at the holidays.
They were simple traditions, and maybe that was the point. I think I needed very much to realize that things could be good again, and easy ... and fun. Those things helped me keep my sanity. No matter what was happening on the job, with my divorce, or in my personal life, Pajama Pizza Night would be there, and all that would be required of me would be to sit in front of the fireplace with my little boy and enjoy some time together.
My husband and I (as well as just me on my own) and the various assortment of adult kids who will be coming in and out of the house will all have to start creating new traditions in our new home and our new area. It might be Sundays at the beach, Tuesday night Chinese Take-Out, or maybe just a walk down the hill to the mailbox to get the day's mail. Maybe a once-a-month get together with family. Who knows. It's one of the many "yet-to-be-determined" things about the transition we're currently in the midst of.
It takes a long time to make a house a home, say nothing of a new area, and until you do, you are bound to feel a bit unsettled. I know this in my head, but it still does not stop the fears and the insecurities from sometimes trying to take hold at 3 a.m., telling me we've made some kind of huge mistake in electing to leave the familiar and strike out in search of something better. But I know we haven't. We're just losing a whole phase of our life -- that of parents with young children -- and the new traditions, those of being parents with older kids, have not yet arrived.
But I know they're on their way, sure as the sun's going to rise tomorrow.
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