Diary of a mother, Jayne, who is also author of Kids and Money: Giving Them the Savvy to Succeed Financially (Bloomberg Press), and her son, Ryan, who just turned 14. I will mostly discuss financial parenting issues, as they come up -- what works, what doesn't, what drives me crazy, what drives Ryan crazy, discussions with his friends, what I'm reading, people I meet as I give workshops, etc.
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This is where you stick random tidbits of information about yourself.
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Tuesday, September 05, 2006
WHAT TO DO WITH AN EMPTY NEST
My sister, Ellen, is witty, sharp, has a huge heart and is lousy at taking constructive criticism. Whenever she asks me for an opinion about something a bit sensitive or tricky – does this outfit make her ass look big? Do I like her idea for a new business (and she has some wacky ideas) – I tell her, “write me a script.” And sometimes she does, delineating precisely what she wants to hear.
If I had written a script for how my son’s move-out from home and move-in to his first apartment in Boston would go, it could not have been more perfect. Picture this: a rented van, an ex-husband, a kid who had not yet finished packing and me. Doesn’t sound picture perfect? Hold on. The ex-husband is a great packer – organized and has great spatial vision. I don’t. He offered to do all the driving. I hate driving vans, especially in the city. And we were both on pretty good behavior with each other. Not a single snipe at each other… let alone argument. In fact, we shared a lot of laughs.
But the best part was watching the excitement light up our son’s face. He is so ripe for venturing off on his own. He is directed, confident, has a good dozen or so buddies also going to nearby Boston colleges and he’s excited about all the new friends and musicians he’ll meet at school. He adores Boston and has been spending a lot of time getting to know his way around all summer.
At lunch, two parents were comforting their daughter, who was weeping at the next table. I assume she was moving to Boston from someplace more far-flung than Amherst. Still, I whispered to Ryan, “How come you aren’t in tears?” Without skipping a beat he countered, “How come you’re not?” Touche!
The day before the move I gave Ryan a big hug. Instead of just standing their limply, barely tolerating my embrace, he hugged me back. That felt very special. I pushed my luck: “You know, this last day you’re home, you’re going to have to endure a lot more of those. Deal with it.” He said, “I know. That’s okay.” He even offered me a hug – unsolicited.
After my ex and I did about all the damage we could do we headed back to Amherst. If I’d had to make that drive by myself, I think it might have been dangerous, as it would have been hard to see the road with all the tears that would undoubtedly have flooded my eyes. We just chatted nicely. Almost enjoyed each other’s company.
Back at my place, I said to him right after we walked through the door, “Think we should call him to see if he’s homesick yet?” And before Rich could answer the phone rang. Ryan. “Just calling to make sure you got home okay.” He knows I always have a hard time finding my way out of Boston. After I told him we did just fine, he asked me in a serious tone, “So Mom, are you, you know, like, okay?”
“You want to know the weird thing?” I asked him. “Oddly, I’m doing just great!”
4:56 PM
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