Filling Time: TwinLife Empty-Nesting

Not a Cat Person

September 14, 2025
I am not a cat person. Or a dog person. My husband and I both had – and loved – pets as kids, but we made the intentional decision not to bring pets into TwinLife. Managing two stressful jobs as well as twin schedules meant we wouldn’t have the time for an animal that it deserved. Our kids both wished we had a pet, but they also don’t know the responsibility involved in being a pet owner. They have loved my parents’ cats in lieu of having their own.

My parents currently have two cats, Leo and Linus, who were adopted as a bonded pair from a cat rescue near where they live. Leo is a happy cat, always ready to cuddle, who loves to eat. In fact, my parents had to develop a routine where the two cats ate separately so that he didn’t steal all the food. Since he has an orange-colored coat, I’ve called him Garfield more than once, joking that he is always eating.

Linus, on the other hand, is incredibly anxious. He rarely comes out when we are visiting, though my daughter has become a cat whisperer who can lure him out of hiding. She feeds him earwax to get him to warm up to her. Yup, apparently this is a thing.

Over the years I’ve found it easier to connect with Leo, understandably since Linus avoids me (and everyone), but to be honest, I’m an ambivalent big sister. The cats exist. My parents love them. I tolerate them. It was similar when my brother showed up five years into my life.

Unlike my brother, who has become a pretty cool human over the years, the cats remain cats. And as I led off in this post – I am not a cat person. Therefore, it’s kind of surprising that I just spent three and a half days hanging out with Linus and Leo, filling time.

A few weeks ago my parents had to take Leo to the emergency vet because he was not urinating. This started a harrowing time for them that included cat surgery, multiple vet visits, daily medication, and a new diet. I am not going to even try to explain what is wrong with the cat. The important part of this story is that it is crucial to monitor whether Leo urinates right now.

As this situation unfolded, my mom mentioned to me that she might not be able to take the trip she and my dad had planned to see longtime friends across the country. Because all of them had been dealing with health issues but were healthy enough right now to visit, this was an important connection point for them. My mom was going to make the sacrifice and let my dad do the visiting so that she could stay home to take care of Leo. Though she had worked it out with the vet that Leo could stay with them during the work week, she did not have a plan for the weekend, when the facility wasn’t open. Because of the complicated nature of his care, she didn’t feel comfortable having her regular pet caretaker fill in.

As I listened, I realized two things: (1) it was really important that Leo pee every day and that someone monitored it so that if he didn’t go, he could be rushed to the emergency vet, and (2) I literally had nothing on my calendar the weekend she needed coverage, and I could easily work from “home” (my childhood home) Thursday and Friday to make the situation easier on them.

For the first time in 18 years, I was able to drop everything (and by everything, I mean the nothing that I had to do) and help my parents – who had been doing this constantly for me over my life, but especially since the kids were born.

So for the last three and half days, I’ve been making sure Leo pees and doing my best to coax Linus into thinking I’m an ok human. So far, I’ve been successful in both goals! I’m really proud that Linus approached me today while I was sitting in my dad’s chair, and asked me to pet him and rub his belly. He’s still scared, but he’s been visible every day I’ve been in the house. And I didn’t even need to resort to earwax.

I’ve really enjoyed the time alone in a place full of quiet nature. I decided to call this long weekend a “writing and yoga retreat.”

I didn’t actually do any yoga – though I did do long walks every day. Today I saw a caravan of Amish buggies passing me by as they went to Sunday service at my parent’s next door neighbors, and I reveled in the location and peacefulness that is very different from where I currently live. However, I haven’t been as productive as I imagined on the writing front. I’ve been more occupied caring for the cats than I have been sitting at my computer. It’s hard work, making friends with felines. And it’s not necessarily work I love. I have moved the needle from toleration to appreciation for these siblings of mine, but I still prefer my brother (and it’s not even close).

The things I’ve enjoyed about the cats:
- They clearly love each other, and love always makes me happy.
- Their personalities
- Their acceptance of me
The things I don’t like doing for the cats:
- Feeding them
- Cleaning their litter
- Making sure they aren’t getting into “off-limits” places by keeping doors shut
- Giving them medicine
- Generally, keeping them alive (meaning I don’t like the anxiety I feel in making sure they are safe)
And this is how I know that I definitely won’t be filling time as an empty-nester by getting a pet. I’ll stick with humans.

On a fun note, I did get to spend some human time reconnecting with high school friends during this low-key trip to my hometown. Sharing laughs together after decades apart gave me some insight into additional possibilities for filling time in the future. More to come!
The Purge

September 7, 2025

Twice a year the Visiting Nurse Association holds a huge rummage sale just down the road from me. It’s seriously massive. They collect items for several weeks with an army of volunteers sorting and displaying them in a pop-up village of tents, each labeled with the “department” name. The sale itself draws people from everywhere, and you need to arrive early to get the best deals.

When we first moved to the area, I would get in line before opening at the toys tent to try to snag Christmas or birthday gifts for my kids. I’d sip my coffee and chat with the other deal seekers. Each year I’d meet a new teacher from out of state who was there to purchase for their classroom. We’d chat until the line opened – and then we’d start the frantic race with everyone else to find the items that we didn’t know we wanted. It was great fun, and it also meant my kids always had some new-to-them toys or games that I wouldn’t have spent the money on at retail price.

After the toy tent, I’d head to the children’s tent, where I bought shoes and clothes that I knew they’d grow out of in a hot minute. Then sporting goods – I’d stock up on the next three sizes of cleats at $4 per pair – and books, where I spent the most time because we loved new stories in our house. Getting the deals meant knowing the ins and outs of the sale, including the sweet spot for when to arrive and wait for it to open.

As the years have progressed, I used the sale to clean out my house more than I did to fill it. I’ve gotten into a routine of doing a purge in the early spring and then again in the fall. The lines to donate, however, are just as long as the lines to purchase, and I’ve figured out that in order to minimize my time spent in line, it’s best to go mid-week about two weeks into collection, right as they open in the morning.

Normally, I wouldn’t take my donations on opening day because I know that the line is always long, and I usually have somewhere to be. But, I had nothing but time in front of me yesterday, and I had a room full of stuff to purge.

That’s right. A room full.

For the last year, I’ve been gently nudging my kids to start editing their collections. Each of their rooms had become an unorganized museum of their lives that included clothes that were too small, toys that hadn’t been played with for years, mementos of trips and events they couldn’t identify, and gifts and other items that they might use sometime eventually. As a person who likes organization but cannot manage to keep my office or bedroom tidy, I didn’t hassle my kids over the years to keep their rooms pristine. I never lost my cool unless we realized we didn’t have enough cups in the kitchen cabinet – at which point I knew to scold my son for hoarding them in his room. Every so often, I’d dig in and do a deep purge with each of them, donating clothes that were too small and toys they didn’t want anymore, but for the most part, I let them keep what they wanted to keep and live in the space that made them feel comfortable.

However, I knew that the transition to college meant that they were going to need to do a pretty deep analysis of what they owned, what they wanted to take with them, and what could be tossed or donated. We got serious about this work in the lead up to college departure, and by the time we were done, we had about ten bags of clothes and shoes and a few boxes of toys and household items for me to take to the VNA sale this fall. A pile has been sitting in my office, waiting for the donation lines to open.

Then, last weekend, as I faced the first full day without anything scheduled in a very long time, I looked at the list of “empty-nester tasks” I had started and decided to clean out the garage. This was the day after The Queens Adventure, and I probably should have just lounged around and rested. Instead, I got up early, went to the gym, and decided to purge 18-years worth of sports equipment and yard games.

As the donation pile started to exceed the keep pile, I realized I was going to lose my parking spot if I waited to donate everything to the VNA sale. So I started posting things on our local Buy Nothing Group, and by the end of the day, I had dissolved almost the entire pile, and it felt good!

By the end of the Labor Day weekend, I had loaded up the SUV with all of the bags and boxes that had been sitting in my office, as well as the items left from the garage purge. I was ready to take everything to VNA – on donation opening day, when I had another Saturday of nothing but time in front of me. The car looked like I was moving two kids into college, not like was I was cleaning out their rooms!

I had considered waiting until a weekday when I could manipulate my work-from-home schedule to do what I usually do and drop everything off relatively quickly. I figured I would spend Saturday morning tackling something else on the clean, purge, and fix list. However, as a friend rightly pointed out, if I burn through that list too fast, I’m going to end up with way more time to fill than I want.

So after the morning gym and a coffee with friends, I took my full car to the drop-off line – and filled time for an hour while I waited my turn to unload. And the purge felt good.
The Queens Adventure

August 31, 2025

Monday began with a long day at work, and the rest of the week followed the same pattern. By Wednesday, I got home around 9 p.m., completely exhausted and ready to crawl into bed. As I was heading upstairs, my husband called out and asked what I thought about taking the day off work Friday and going to New York City to see either the U.S. Open or a Mets game. I would have been happy to go to the Mets game since there was a new rookie pitcher I thought would be fun to watch, but tennis has never been my thing. He had taken me to the U.S. Open once before, and the following year I politely told him to take someone else because the tickets had been wasted on me.
Still, we are really trying to spend time together, filling time, and tennis is something he’s passionate about so I said I’d do whatever he wanted, but I preferred the Mets game. Since he preferred tennis, we ended up with a tentative plan to possibly do both.

Yes, you read that right. A couple of middle aged people thought it might be a good idea to do a double header, 12 hour day – AFTER a crazy few weeks of moving two kids into college.

I really didn’t want to do that. So I ignored the idea on Thursday, hoping he’d drop it and realize how tired we both were and that neither of us wanted to spend 12 hours in Queens. Luckily, (or so I thought) he didn’t mention it either, and I thought I was off the hook.

On Friday, I woke up early and went to the gym, still hoping he wouldn’t choose to fill the day with both tennis and baseball – or, quite frankly, any trip to Queens. But when I came home from working out, he was up and into it, saying, “All right, you ready to go? I’ve been looking at tickets. We can probably get a good deal — we’ll wait until we get there.” I rolled my eyes, showered, and then crawled back into bed, hiding under the blanket, trying to figure out (1) how I could get out of it, or (2) what in the world I was going to wear for a 12-hour day in New York City. I needed an outfit that would work for outdoor (posh) tennis in the middle of the day — what I call the “Pompous Long Island” look — and then something suitable for the Mets game later that night. I knew the temperature was going to vary widely and that I’d need to either carry or layer my full outfit needs for the day. I pulled the blanket further over my head.

He came into the room, “Um, you’re in bed?”

“Um, can you tell me the weather for today? I’m not sure how to make my outfit work,” I muffled under the covers.

After he checked the weather and talked me off my outfit ledge, I pulled myself out of bed, changed clothes, and we were ready to go.

“Who’s driving?” he asked. I gave him a withering stare. He grabbed the keys.

We had about two hours to get to the U.S. Open, find a parking spot that worked both for the tennis match midday and the Mets game that started at 7 (and finished, possibly, just before midnight), and buy tickets. That’s right, we didn’t have tickets to either of these events when we left our house. This isn’t actually unusual because my husband has perfected the art of the last minute purchase. He has figured out when to buy in order to “buy up.” We have many times purchased tickets from the parking lot. So the fact we didn’t have tickets for the 11:30 match when we left for it at 9:45 wasn’t a big deal.
So we set off, lethargically, and I assumed my husband had done all the research needed since this was his thing, not mine. Traffic wasn’t bad, and we made great time, planning to arrive about 10 minutes before the match he wanted to see. As we got closer, he started talking about parking.

Normally, when we go to Citi Field once a year, we use a specific lot that makes leaving after the game easy. I’m not sure if he assumed this lot would be open or whether he just figured if it wasn’t open, we could find something easily, but, to make a long story short – we could not park where we wanted to park.

Because my husband kinda thought this would be the case, he had a loose plan to park in a tennis center lot where we could walk to both events without moving the car. I asked which lot he’d chosen, and he said, “I don’t know.” That’s when I realized he hadn’t done any research. He had literally just hypothesized without collecting data.

As we drove past the Citi Field lot we wanted — completely empty but also completely closed — we kept going straight with the rest of the traffic. It was at that point that I realized mistake number one: trusting my husband to handle pre-research. It was followed immediately by mistake number two: following the traffic instead of turning left.

Fighting my irritation, I pulled out ChatGPT and asked for parking suggestions. It gave us the name of a parking deck near a mall and the two best lots at the tennis center. We kept following traffic, continuing to circle around the tennis center. There were no open lots. Finally, as we rounded the halfway point of the circle around the complex, we were told we could park and take a shuttle back to the tennis center. A quick Maps search told me we were 2 miles away from Citi Field, where we would be ending the night 12 hours later. That wasn’t ideal for walking back to the car late at night. I suggested we keep circling back toward Citi Field to look for another lot. We did find a bunch of lots, including the ones ChatGPT had recommended – but all of those required pre-purchased parking passes.

We continued around, coming close to making a full circle and ending up back at Citi Field until we hit a road closure and had to detour down small alleys in the opposite direction of where we wanted to go. Down one of those streets, we found a lot run by two guys sitting in lawn chairs. My husband rolled down my window, and asked if there was parking. The two guys looked at each other and smirked, “Yeah, yeah, there’s parking. Twenty bucks.”

My husband asked, “Seriously? If I give you $20, we can park here?”

The guy replied, “Yeah, park behind that truck, nobody’ll know.” I looked around and realized there was no safe way to walk from there to either the tennis center or Citi Field, not to mention our car would be parked illegally in an alley in Queens. For the second time that day, my withering stare got my husband to drive.

We moved ahead, each opening our Maps apps to figure out where to go next. I didn’t realize my husband had muted his navigation on the car’s dashboard, so when I turned mine off, we ended up missing the correct turn. That detour cost us even more time.

We seriously tested our marriage communication while we were lost in Queens, and while he cajoled me into enjoying our “filling time,” I tried REALLY hard not to lose my mind.

With Maps rerouted, I decided to search for private lots near the area, but nothing showed up as available. Then, I went back to ChatGPT, which an hour before had pointed us in the direction of a mall parking lot, about a nine-minute walk from Citi Field and 12 minutes from the U.S. Open. It was worth a shot. It was our only option at that point.

Drawing in my breath, I told my husband to turn at the same spot we should have turned an hour earlier when ChatGPT first gave me its output. We quickly found our way to a big mall, and parked at BJ’s, which was completely legal, by the way, according to the sign that said “event parking will be charged the full day rate.” It cost $25 for the whole day — not bad for New York City.

By then, we still didn’t have tickets to any event but we had a parking spot! We had been monitoring prices, which had steadily dropped from the time we woke up until we first got to the city. By the time we walked up to the tennis center, we were a little over an hour late for the match, and the prices reflected the late arrival. We ended up with amazing seats in the fourth row for a fraction of the original cost and only missed one set. Sometimes, not planning actually works out better.

The tennis matches were fun. My husband loved the tennis, and I appreciated the athleticism of the players. I entertained myself by studying the ball people and trying to figure out their rotations. I nearly solved the pattern during the final game, but just as I was about to confirm it with one more data point, a new team rotated in. I may just have to go back sometime to finish testing my hypothesis.

After tennis, we headed to the Mets game to watch the rookie’s first Major League appearance. While outside the stadium, we found reasonable tickets, bought them, and headed in for the second round of our Queens double header. We stayed until the seventh inning, and luckily, our team was winning. By then, we were exhausted and decided to head home.

In total, we had a 14-hour day filling time — chaotic, exhausting, and definitely an adventure.
Coming Home

August 25, 2025

Why is my stomach in knots as my husband pulls into the gas station 2 miles from home? We face forward, in our own thoughts, until he says, “We’re almost home.”

I grab his hand as I respond, “I know.” The tears are so close to leaking.

I fear the silence will engulf me, wrapping my body like a vice, not the hug of home.

My nose will remind me of the last time we returned, kids in tow, to the strange smell of home, one that quickly becomes unnoticeable, but is always noticeable after a few days away. How will that scent change over time, without teen spirit?

He pulls out of the gas station and takes the road we have taken so many times before. We are a mile away, a half mile, making the turn off the main road, onto our street. Into the driveway.

My stomach clenches as it does before I go onstage or give a presentation. No matter how confident I am, there is always the unknown, captured in more than butterflies and less than wanting to puke.

We are home.

And I’m officially “dome.”

It’s familiar, comforting, and not nearly as empty as I thought it would be. My fears recede, my stomach relaxes, and I work on the task at hand – unloading the car – and NOT worrying about cleaning up the mess. That will be a task for another day.

Today, I rest. “I’m dome.” I’m home.

Note: This cut-out was part of a graduation pack that I purchased for the party for my twins. It became a running joke over the summer as I finished each aspect of Phase I Parenting (the way I’m now referring to the last 18 years). It is currently on my dresser mirror, and I think it’s finally true. I’m dome, at least with that journey.
Wonderbread

August 24, 2025

About six months ago I told my husband that we should plan a weekend away after we dropped our second twin at college. I knew that we would need some time to process our emotions before we walked into our very quiet house. I wrote many years ago about how I tend to look into the future while my husband tends to wait until the future hits him in the face. Not much has changed since then. He pretty much ignored my suggestion, and I started asking my girlfriends to help me plan a weekend away in September.

Then, our kids turned 18, and the countdown to sending them both to college became a week, as compared to months. The future was staring at him, and he started to understand how empty our house was going to feel.

He decided to find us a resort for the weekend, a way for us to fill time between dropping off our son and going back to work on Monday. Let’s face it, it was also so we could delay the inevitable wallop to our hearts when we returned home to an empty house. So we stopped at a nice place on the way home, overcompensating for our emotional state by opening the wallet. It was a beautiful place in a quaint little town, the perfect weekend escape. We were able to hike, visit a winery, and generally enjoy each other’s company.

Because it was a last minute decision, we were limited in options for our dinner reservation on Friday night. The hotel restaurant – a fancy-pants dining experience – could seat us at 5PM. So we took it, embracing our exhaustion as well as our steps toward “senior” living. We joked with each other as we sat, alone, in the restaurant, and appreciated the accommodations the chef could make for our gluten free needs. As a few other early diners started to fill the space, we noticed the bread trays passing by our table. The warm rolls and corn bread looked delicious, and we wondered what the gluten free option would be. We have been to many restaurants that have figured out how to do GF rolls pretty well, and we were expecting a nice surprise.

Well, we definitely got a surprise!

We couldn’t stop laughing the rest of the weekend about the Wonderbread that the chef rolled out. This is gluten free living.

As we sat together after dinner that first night, I created a TwinLife group chat for the four of us to communicate, and then my husband starting spamming our kids with pictures, including asking “Was it Colonel Mustard in the conservatory? Or was it Mom in the library?” To which our daughter almost immediately responded, “Mom did it.”

I scolded my husband in the chat for spamming the kids, and our fun family banter continued for a few minutes before I made him put his phone away. We both let the chat sit for the rest of the evening while the kids went about their lives. The next morning we woke up to find that they had continued our family’s sarcastic banter later that night, giving us a glimpse into how they were filling their time, even as we wonder(bread) how to fill ours.
FillingTime

August 21, 2025

18 years ago my TwinLife journey began, and now it’s time to start a new one. As we drove back home from dropping our daughter off at college, my husband and I made the decision to stop for dinner. “There’s nothing at home for us,” I said. He knew I meant both the quiet of our house and the emptiness of our fridge. “We need to waste time.”

“I prefer to think of it as filling time,” he said.

And so it is. The next chapter is about FillingTime, though I know it will be so much more than just filling time. As we figure out the proverbial “empty-nester life,” I want to fill my time with purpose and passion.

I’m just not quite sure what that entails… yet.

On the way home from the gym the other morning I heard Ben Rector’s song “Drive.” I immediately sent it to my husband and said, “This might be our new anthem.”

When’s the last time we dropped our things and went?
Woke up somewhere that we’ve both never been?
Growin’ up doesn’t mean gettin’ older
Maybe it’s just left turns off familiar streets
I just wanna come back with a memory
Growin’ up doesn’t mean gettin’ older
I don’t care
Anywhere
Like a river connects to the ocean
This pavement touches wherever we go, and
White lines flyin’ by, who knows what we’ll find
You and me tonight
Let’s drive

Today we dopped off our son (the second in a week and the last of our kids to head off to college), and as I hugged him goodbye, I couldn’t help but hold back the tears until he walked away completely.

The twin-sized hole in my heart burst open – even as I was so sure that his path was perfect for him, just as my daughter’s was for her. I couldn’t be happier for them to move forward, even as I’m a bit lost about where my path will lead.

It’s not easy to suddenly pivot from the purpose of rearing kids. TwinLife for us meant we only got to see every stage once; we only had one time to get it right or blow it without the benefit of hindsight and experience. For that I am actually grateful, because it helped me to slow down and savor each stage. But it also means we feel this moment doubly. And I’m not gonna lie – it’s a lot.

It’s a new stage to savor – and to wonder in – and, sometimes, to fear, even as we hope.

And so we drive ahead, FillingTime. This blog begins the journey of TwinLife as an empty-nester. Feel free to read my last journey at TwinLife: Having it All to set the stage for what is yet to come.