When your life is no longer governed by the academic calendar

The AI Blog Post Image Generator tried so hard.

Every weekday morning on my drive to the office, I pass an elementary school. Unless I'm especially early or late, or unless it happens to be a bank/government holiday, the 20mph school zone lights are always flashing as I approach.

Recently, though, for the first time in a while, the lights weren't on.

Initially I didn't understand why that would be. It was 7:45am, prime school arrival time. It was a Wednesday. I couldn't imagine why the kids might be off that day.

Then it hit me.

It was late May. School was out for the summer. The kids wouldn't be back for nearly three months.

It was the first time I realized that virtually every school district around me was on break. It just hadn't occurred to me before.

Not coincidentally, this past year was also the first time since 1998-99 that Terry and I had no kids in school.

For 25 years, we lived within the confines of the academic calendar. Our lives were directly affected by teachers workshops, spring breaks, band concerts, sporting events, and everything else you as a parent experience in the course of the school year.

And now, apart from my PA announcing gigs, that schedule means almost nothing to us. The last day of school – an annual milestone that would have been ingrained in my mind in years past – was irrelevant.

To the point that I didn't even know the kids were on break.

It was strangely disconcerting. Just another little thing to adjust to in our post-secondary parenting lives.

When you're raising kids, there are all kinds of "firsts" and "lasts." And when you have multiple children, the "lasts" aren't truly "last" until your last kid.

Then they go away forever. Just like my recognition of where we were in the year and how teachers and kids had already been set free for the next 11 weeks without me being the least bit aware.

Cut me a little slack. I'm still an empty nester in training.

Two cats, two rats: Our dwindling household pet population

Just as the number of children living in our house has fallen over the last few years, so too has the number of non-human animals.

We peaked at five children in 2006, that much I know, but I don't remember when our menagerie reached its highest point. I want to say it was about that same time we had something like 10 or 15 different creatures in our care.

For many years we owned five cats. I won't whine here about the fact that I was solely responsible for cleaning their litter boxes and feeding them every day, though I'm afraid I just did.

We also had various rodents, from chinchillas and guinea pigs to hamsters and mice. And there were fish, as I recall, along with a couple of rats.

There are two possible reactions when you tell people you have rats as pets, by the way. One is, "Oh, they're so cute! I love rats!" The other, more common one is, "WHAT?!? RATS?!?! WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?!?"

I never knew this, but it turns out rats are in fact fun and affectionate. They don't have the greatest reputation, what with the bubonic plague thing and all (though they really get a bum rap for that). But they have a lot going for them.

Rats comprise 50% of our current household pet roster. Jack bought two a month ago and named them Velma and Daphne in an admirable tribute to the Scooby Doo gang. He keeps them in a penthouse-like cage in his room. I have never held them, and have in fact only seen them maybe three times, but they seem nice enough.

Our two other current pets are cats Ginny and Molly. As recently as a year and a half ago, they were somewhat overshadowed by their elder brothers Fred, George and Charlie. That was until the three boys succumbed to various feline diseases, one after the other. At least two of those deaths were cancer-related, which is a common thing in older cats.

So now it's two cats and two rats. I miss Fred, George and Charlie, but I'll admit I enjoy scooping fewer litter boxes and filling fewer food bowls every morning. Ginny and Molly do throw up occasionally, but they don't pee in random places like the boys would sometimes do.

One thing on which Terry and I agree is that we are not accepting any new cats into our house. No matter how cute the kitten, no matter how desperate their situation, we are no longer the suckers we once were for homeless kitties.

The same goes for any other living thing, furry or otherwise, that wants to take up residence with us. If I have my way, the "no vacancy" sign outside of 30025 Miller Avenue will be permanently lit.

When you don't want your youngest to grow up, but you also sort of do...

Here's something Terry and I have noticed in recent years.

We'll be talking to a parent whose last/youngest child is nearing high school graduation and they'll be borderline distraught about it. They can't imagine not doing kid activities anymore and not having the same routine, and understandably, they're having a hard time grasping the concept of their baby going off to college or trade school, or entering the workforce.

We will nod sympathetically. And then, as we walk away, we will turn to each other and say (almost in unison), "I can't wait until Jack graduates."

This is not nearly as heartless as it sounds. We're enjoying Jack's high school experience as much as we did with the first four, maybe even a little more so. It's just that, with kids starting to move out of the house, we've had a taste of the empty nest life. And well...

It's awesome.

I love my children, don't get me wrong. They're good people. Fun to be around, smart, mostly conscientious, and so easy to be proud of.

But we've been through many years of the chaos that comes with a large family (a family we chose to have, it should be noted). And the freedom and peace and quiet that comes with a smaller household just can't be beat.

Believe me, I know we're going to miss sports and band and everything that comes with having kids under the age of 18. Even having been through the cycle multiple times, we still love it all.

Then Terry starts talking about having a house in Florida where we can spend the winter months, and I admittedly get a little tingly.

So Jack, my boy, you're doing great. Keep getting those good grades, keep running, keep playing your trumpet, and keep on keeping us busy. But when it's time for you to step out into the wide world on your own, trust me what I say this:

I will be right there, helping you pack up the U-Haul.

Should we stay or should we go? The big question for emerging empty nesters

When people ask how old our kids are and how many still live with us, I like to say we're "empty nesters in transition."

And we are. The two oldest live on their own, while the younger three are still with us in the house. In the next few years, we'll see at least one more leave if not two.

Actually, if you think about it, all parents are "empty nesters in transition" from the moment their first child is born. The minute that kid comes out, you begin your job of training them to live and thrive on their own.

Over the past year, Terry and I have had our first serious and semi-detailed conversations about what happens in the next phase of our lives. We've been doing this kid thing since 1994, and while you never finish being a parent, we'll probably be well and truly on our own within the next decade.

We've talked about moving. We've talked about being true snow birds and spending the winter months somewhere down south, though the thought of that makes me feel 80 years old.

We've also talked about staying in this house, where we've already lived for nearly 18 years, a while longer. Yes, it's bigger than we're going to need, but the upside is that you can repurpose rooms however you want. Terry has already commandeered one upstairs for use as a craft room, and I would love eventually to have an office/music practice room.

Within the past few days as I type this, we've had two guys over the house to talk about redoing the basement floor and the master bathroom. These are the types of expensive projects you don't necessarily undertake if you plan to sell your home any time soon.

So for now, here we'll stay. And for now, we'll enjoy the ups and downs of having older kids in the house with us. It's not a bad stage of life to be in, really.

A year without parenting milestones

As the 2017-18 academic year gets underway, my wife Terry and I find ourselves very much "in process" when it comes to being the parents of five children.

What I mean is, we've got kids going every which direction, but no one is graduating or necessarily reaching any sort of academic or vocational landmark in the coming year. Yes, one kid is starting college, but compared with graduation, that's a relatively tame thing, if only because we've been through it before at different levels.

We stand thusly in the Tennant household as summer 2017 wanes and the first signs of autumn make themselves evident:

Elissa

My 23-year-old eldest child has earned her bachelor's degree in marketing from Cleveland State University. She works for a great little strategic branding agency called Hey Now! Media as a digital strategist/social media manager. That's a very Millennial job title, and come to think of it, that exclamation point in the name of the agency is pretty darn Millennial, too. Elissa has officially moved out, though she lives only 5 minutes or so away in a rented house with one of her longtime friends.

She is, by almost any standard you care to name, an adult. I'm good with this, but I'm also not. She was ready to be on her own and all, but I miss having her around. I will always miss having her around. That's the way this game is played. (And hey, you can see my pretty little girl here and read her very professional sounding bio while you're at it.)

Chloe

Little Chloe is nearly 21 years old, which makes me think I probably shouldn't refer to her as "Little Chloe" so much anymore. She is a junior biomedical engineering major at the University of Akron who has designs on attending medical school and becoming some sort of doctor, possibly a pediatrician (though she also talks on occasion about becoming an eye doc...I think she would be good at either). She is at the point of her engineering studies where everything gets pretty intense and serious, and as a result she is no longer a member of the Akron marching band, which is sad but also necessary. Engineering students, I'm told, regularly drop out of band at Akron once they hit that third year. She is in the process of moving into a just-off-campus apartment as I type, and will be officially gone as of Sunday evening. She's a hard worker, that one is.

Jared

The Boy begins his college career next week as a freshman at THE Cleveland State University. OK, CSU doesn't use the "THE" like Ohio State does, but it just sounded good so I went with it. Anyway, I've only seen him for short stretches throughout this summer because he spends a lot of time working at the Cleveland Indians team shop. And hanging out with his girlfriend. This is what happens when you have an 18-year-old son. By all accounts, though, he's ready to start this college thing and plow ahead with his intended major in business administration. I have no idea what he's going to do with his life, and maybe he doesn't, either, which is just fine. I never understand why we push 18-year-old kids to make decisions that could affect the course of their professional lives for the next three or four decades. Jared will find his way. He always does. Let's give him a few years to sort things out.

Melanie

Mel grew up suddenly – jarringly even – in the last couple of years. She's a junior at Wickliffe High School, a class officer, a soccer player, and so far a straight-A student. This year she is spending half of each school day out at Mentor High School taking a few general classes and participating in Mentor's business/marketing program, then the second half of the day back at Wickliffe. I can't keep up with her. Next thing I know, she'll be graduating. I would rather not talk about it, but between you and me, I'm super impressed with this one.

Jack

Ah, Jackie. My Other Boy. My 11-year-old, thin-as-a-rail, cross country-running, class clown. Yes, apparently he's the class clown, at least according to his seventh-grade math teacher Danna Huested. I've known Danna since 1975, when we both started kindergarten at the old Mapledale Elementary School, and she is among the best teachers my kids have had. So I found it part amusing and part alarming when I attended middle school open house the other day, and with a smile she said to me, "So you saved the class clown for your last kid? He doesn't fit the (Tennant) mold!" A month or so earlier, Jack's cross country coach (another Wickliffe classmate, the awesome Todd Calic) said something similar: "Everyone on the team loves him. He cracks everybody up."

And it all makes sense to me. Jack is the youngest of five kids, which in itself means he has always had to work to carve out his own identity in the chaos of our house. But when you consider that he skipped a grade back in elementary school, it gets even tougher for him. He's an 11-year-old in a class full of 12- and soon-to-be-13-year-olds. This is a funny age to begin with, and being the youngest one in the class has to make it even trickier. So Jack copes by being the funny guy. I'm OK with that as long as he doesn't become disruptive in class or during team cross country activities. And I think he knows that. He's doing fine, but I'll admit I worry about him a lot.


So anyway, that's where things stand for us. We're just going about the business of living life and continuing to raise a family. With each passing year, thoughts of what happens once we reach The Other Side (i.e., the empty nest) creep into my head, but they're no more than thoughts. We still have a long way to go, with plenty of homework, school projects, sports practices and games, band concerts, and yes, graduations and big milestones to go.

For now, that's good enough. Exhausting, but good enough.

One day there will be no more kids in our house, and I have a hard time being excited about that

This year we sent one kid off to live on a college campus (Chloe), while another moved back in after spending three years living on a college campus (Elissa).

I was so happy that Elissa came back because, honestly, I missed having her around. But now I miss having Chloe around, and it makes me realize that eventually there will be no trades. They'll just all leave the nest one by one, and nobody will return to take their place.

It's a mixed blessing, I guess. Some days you come home to a messy house full of chaos and noise and you think you can't wait until they all grow up and live somewhere else.

Other days you come home and they're all out with their friends or at school or something, and you realize how oppressively quiet it is. It doesn't seem right.

And so I can't decide whether I'm looking forward to the day they all leave, dreading that day, or whether it's a little bit of both.

For two decades, there have been kids in our house. If all goes according to plan, that will continue to be the case for another decade more.

Beyond that there's...well, I can't quite envision what's there. It will just be us. Just Terry and me. And while I love the thought of being with just her, I realize the cost will be having to readjust to a home where no one is asking me for a few dollars out of my wallet, or to borrow the car, or for me to sign a permission slip she misplaced and she needs for a field trip tomorrow.

And that just seems so lonely.

The college experience affords parents a foretaste of what's to come in their lives, and thus it gives you chunks of time to adjust to the inevitable.

It's just that, for all the hassles and frustrations that come with living with six other people, it's really all I know at this point. And so I guess what I'm afraid of is the unknown.

Still, the fact is, it's going to happen whether I'm ready for it or not. So I might as well be ready for it. And I might as well enjoy what I have now, knowing there will still be days when I just can't bring myself to clean up one more mess in the kitchen that one of my offspring created.

I also know that some day, I'll do anything for one more of those messes to clean up.

As we've said before, c'est la vie, my friends, c'est la vie.