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A Mother's Day ditty for the empty nesters

Frances Burscough Expand

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Frances Burscough

Frances Burscough

Frances Burscough

By Frances Burscough

Happy Mother’s Day for tomorrow! I’m spending it on my own for the first time this year, so to mark the occasion, I’ve written a poem especially for all of those like me, whose kids have recently fled the nest:

Empty Nest Syndrome

 

When your kids have grown into adults,

And they move out to start on their own;

And you’re left in a strange state of limbo,

That’s the “empty nest syndrome”.

 

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You know that you should be elated;

All that freedom you’ll have from now on!

But instead you feel quite devastated

As your life’s work all seems to be done.

 

No homeworks, school runs, pack lunches

No uniform piles to be ironed

No more sports days or PTA meetings

No permission slips left to be signed.

 

It feels like you’ve been made redundant

But without a severance deal.

Your time is now yours for the taking

But you don’t really know how to feel.

 

So you go and sit down in their bedroom

And the emptiness starts to sink in.

All the toys have long been discarded

All the storybooks gone in the bin.

 

The walls are a blank empty canvas

As so is your future it seems.

How will you fill all your time now?

Or will you just fall apart at the seams?

 

So you concentrate on the positives

The best aspects of life on your own

After 21 years of laughter and tears

And fingers you’ve worked to the bone.

 

Well, you don’t have to watch any football;

Not even a single goal.

The telly is yours for the watching;

The remote is now in your control.

 

You can catch every costume drama

And rewind all the best bits each day

And what’s more you can drool over Darcy

Without anyone saying he’s gay.

 

All your laundry is halved in an instant

And so is your grocery bill

Your trolley’s replaced with a basket

And it costs half the price at the till.

 

You can please yourself what you eat now,

There’s no need for a big Sunday roast.

Ready meals only take a few minutes

And so do good old beans on toast.

 

The Xbox is switched off forever

Kerrang is a thing of the past

You don’t have to listen to Anthrax,

And Coldplay can go on at last.

 

You can take off the L plates and R plates

The car is all yours, day and night

The house is tidy with things in

their place

And it doesn’t  look like a bomb site.

 

You can even walk around naked

With no fear of looking a fool

You can dance, sing and do your

own thing

No one’s there to say you’re uncool.

 

Then the door rings and it’s Interflora;

An arrangement of beautiful flowers.

“Happy Mother’s Day

To the best  mum in the world”

And your tears flow again for two hours.

 

Only then do you notice the PS.

“Can you transfer cash ASAP?

These flowers cost money,

And now I’m so broke

I’m making beans on toast for my tea.”

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