And Time Keeps on Slippin', Slippin', Slippin'

Since my wife and I have become empty nesters, we have on more than one occasion silently looked at one another and mumbled something about, ‘what do you want to do?’ before shrugging our shoulders simultaneously and mumbling, ‘I dunno, what do you want to do?’ I am sure it is not because we are boring or even worse, bored with each other. I think it has more to do with the fact that the maelstroms, otherwise known as the children who encompassed our day to day lives for 20 odd years, are all grown up and moved away.  I mean, after playing in what seemed like a Stanley Cup final every day, it's a little hard to get excited about a game of shinny.

There is a certain elation when the last child finally leaves home and suddenly the options are there lying before you. I have written before of the plans to convert bedrooms into offices or studios or concert halls.  But after that period of elation and construction, comes the day to day living of pretty uneventful lives.  There are no real challenges now with work, neither of us are changing professions; please refer to the idiom, old dogs/new tricks. Retirement is not really on the table as that would just give us more time to shrug our shoulders at one another and ask each other what we wanted to do.

There are fleeting thoughts of shaking things up a bit, but I certainly won’t present my wife with a radical new look or lifestyle. If I did, she would probably laugh herself into an early grave. The middle aged crazies have already been there and gone and fortunately, I did not buy the T shirt.  I have focused a bit more on physical health; I have taken up running, but of course all this does is provide me more of an opportunity to hurt myself. Running on icy roads in the dark with eye sight that seems to fade on a daily basis is certainly a recipe for all sorts of new pain. I am sure I will try to elicit some level of sympathy from my wife, but I think we all know what that will get me.

We are certainly welcoming our time together, as most couples do. Over the years as children enter your family, there is less attention paid to one another as the focus of your life becomes your children. You work hard at raising them with the proper values, the proper outlook on life and respect for other people. There is no manual, there are no guidelines, just your own values that you try and instill in them and hopefully a few of those values stick and they turn out well enough that visits to the big house are not in order.

My son and his wife have recently taken this step on their own and welcomed a baby girl into our family.  I can often see the questions in their eyes as the reality hits of just how massive their responsibility is. This tiny human being relies on them for 100% of her needs; 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, 365 days a year, and one more on a leap year and will for many, many years to come. It is certainly not something that should be taken lightly and sanity is sometimes sorely tested. Perhaps that is why I’ve written so much about Thing One, Thing Two and Thing Three. It was my method to maintain some level of sanity which I am told by some, wasn’t a very successful method.

A few days ago I was trying to organize our collection of videos that had been burned onto DVD’s. With my perfect memory, I figured I would be able to remember what shows were burned to what disc without that frivolous little thing called labeling.  I forgot I didn’t have a perfect memory anymore.

As the stack of DVD’s reached the critical out-of-control stage, it suddenly dawned on my wife that this was one thing that could be done with my time, instead of thrashing around on dark icy streets. So with her encouragement I started to pop the discs in the player to decide whether or not they were worthy of labeling or tossing into the trash.

That was how we came across a disc of videos of our kids when they were very young. I had, many years ago, transferred most of the video tapes into electronic format and stored them on disc to sit unlabeled and forgotten.  We were transfixed for almost an hour just watching their antics, hearing their wild giggles and screams and seeing their young faces absolutely loving every second of their lives.  It was difficult to stop watching.

I was told so many times in the past by people older than me, that life races by and before you know it, there are a multitude of life events that happened years ago that felt like they just happened yesterday.  I just wanted to say to all the young parents out there, that those sentiments are true. It really did seem like yesterday.  Years ago in these very pages I quoted from a song by Steve Miller, “Time, keeps on slippin’ into the future”. Yes it does Steve, but now it also seems to keep slippin' into the past.

Sir Paul and I

It is always a celebration of sorts when the kids come home. Right now they are all living in the downtown core of The Big Smoke within 5 kilometers or so of each other. One would think that after all those years of sibling rivalry they would want to put as much real estate between each other as possible, but that is not the case. They have actually grown closer as the years have worn on.  Two of them, I fear are becoming urban Torontonian's, not quite Queen Street hipsters, but dangerously close. Our youngest Catherine is involved in reality television and of course Toronto is the Mecca of her industry. Stephanie is happily ensconced at the Royal Ontario Museum cataloging bones and getting excited about the dusty treasures that have laid hidden in neglected drawers and cabinets around the museum. As well, for her, the Indy music scene in Toronto is all a music fan could ask for.  John, our oldest, is working for the federal government and is the only one who envisions a move out of Toronto at some point. But I am getting away from the gist of this article.

When the kids do come home, whether it is one at a time or all together, affairs at the house accelerate exponentially.   I think most parents who have had their kids move out will sympathize with this.  It is difficult when kids leave and set out on their own course of life. No longer are you there at every turn of events to lend a hand, or offer advice or even cuddle when things look gloomy. But after a while, their empty bedrooms start to look more like the makings of a fair sized TV room, or a sewing room. The cupboards take on more of a reflection of what you and your spouse normally eat, the laundry seems to know where the hamper is and strangest of all, the TV seems to be on the shows that you actually watch and not The Simpsons (unless you want to watch The Simpsons).  As difficult as it was for you when they left, the more difficult it is again when they return for a stay.  I am certainly not saying that I don't enjoy their return home, I do. It is always full of excitement, rapid-fire news and a hurricane of activity when they do. It is just sometimes, as I age, a raging hurricane is not something I can to endure for an extended period of time.

No longer is it necessary for me to make sure that there are drinking boxes in the fridge for them like when they were kids; it is now cans and bottles of craft beer that must be laid in. On second thought there are drinking boxes in the fridge and full of grape juice, albeit slightly fermented and in 4L boxes and it wouldn't surprise me for a moment if I were to walk into the living room and find them sucking on straws stuck in the boxes.

Food has taken on a major role in all of their lives and hence a return to home is always accompanied by feasts that rival any holiday meal. One of my Zen kind of things that I enjoy is making desserts; candies, pies, cakes, it doesn't matter to me as long, as it produces the right results. My wife often looks at me standing at the stove, gently stirring for minutes, which to her seems like hours and asks me how do I have the patience for such a thing.  I just chant softly, "Ommmm" and continue to stare out the window in blissful meditative stirring peace. This sometimes disturbs her.

In hand with their appreciation of good food, a special place for them is our kitchen pantry, where they know they can find all sorts of items at the bargain basement price of free.  Stephanie has come to refer to it as the "old people" pantry. She swears this is not a slight to her ageing parents, but more towards the fact that we seem to have more than one jar, bottle or can of just about everything we would need in the pantry.  She is under the impression that this is due to two things; our preparedness and the anticipation that we may run out of an item when cooking or the Costco Effect. I haven't yet told her that both were far from the truth. The real reason that we have multiple items in our pantry is that we have forgotten that we have already purchased three jars of Skippy the last time it was on sale along with all those other items and just keep stacking them up in the cabinet.

I don't want to give the impression that the kids think we are past our best before date and that we are just content settling into a routine and boring existence. We do try and keep things lively. However, I must admit that I do read the "bred, wed and dead" column of the local paper on a more regular basis. It can be un-nerving seeing familiar names and faces looking out at you.  Whereas when we were younger those faces were in the wed part, now they have moved over to the other side of the column.

During the spring the kids asked me if there was a musical act who I have not seen live and who I would like to see. I went through a list of bands or artists I would like to see before they and myself for that matter, are dead. For one reason or another certain acts were ruled out; either they weren't touring any more or were mere imitations of the former bands with only one or two original members. It was finally whittled down to two acts, one of which I figured was impossible to find tickets for. However, determined kids, a computer and a valid credit card when combined with the right incentive can solve virtually any problem. I am so glad that they have harnessed their talents for the good of society. Hence in July, my wife and I attended a Paul McCartney concert in New York State. It was without a doubt one of the finest concerts I have ever scene and quite literally, there aren't enough words to try and describe it. As I texted the kids after the concert; Sir Paul can now die happy in the knowledge that he has been seen by me in concert.  Now, does anyone out there need a few jars of Skippy? I seem to have a few extra.