Having my youngest daughter graduate has essentially made my life easier. I no longer feel responsible for any other schedule but my husband’s and my own, which frees up much of my mental time. But it’s wreaking havoc on my emotional stability.

Not that I’m interested in being in charge of other people’s routines, but my daughters still live with my husband and me. They are therefore still a big part of my psyche and I’m aware of their presence. However, it’s an unstable relationship.

We’re getting along fine; when I see them. It feels as if they are the night shift to my day shift. I’m unsettled when I’m on my way to bed and they’re still at work. When my husband and I were camping last weekend, I startled awake because I didn’t remember my youngest daughter checking in after work. She didn’t, of course, because she wasn’t with us.

When I get out of bed, my daughters are still sleeping. When I make dinner, they may or may not be around to eat it and it’s probably their breakfast or lunch. I know they are still living here, laundry does not lie, but we are living on different planes of existence.

Then there’s the problem of the “Momdar” (that would be the radar all mothers have connected to their children) – it never stops, no matter how old our kids are. Ask my mother who has been known to call out the National Guard if I’m not where I’m supposed to be when she thinks I should be there. I’m over 50 with a husband and children of my own. It doesn’t matter; she needs to be in the know. Of course, the fact my husband and kids don’t keep very good track of me doesn’t help. If they would just remember where I’ve gone when I tell them as I leave the house, my mother’s life would be much more peaceful.

I can be puttering around the house, minding my own business, and suddenly Momdar goes off and I look at the clock. “Shouldn’t she be home? Maybe I don’t know how long her shift is. Clang, clang, clang, clang. Wheeee-ooooo, wheeeeeeee-ooooooo.” I quell the urge to jump tall buildings with a single bound and assure myself that everything is probably OK.

Whoever I’m obsessing about usually walks in the door shortly after the alarms sound. I act all nonchalant, like I didn’t even notice they were gone. Then I go to my bedroom to recline while my heart calms down and the noises in my head subside.

It’s a good night when my daughters are both in the family room, being couch potatoes, and surfing Netflix and the internet. I probably shouldn’t tell them that, because it’s counterproductive to my ultimate goal for them, which is to move out and be productive members of society.

I actually had an easier time when my oldest was living away from home. Then I wasn’t aware of her comings and goings and my Momdar was substantially quieter. I heard from her everyday only because she had questions about living on her own.

Now I must deal with the phantoms who live in my home and come out when the sun goes down. As if our age difference isn’t enough to put us on different planets, my Momdar has to recalibrate to a parallel universe.

Gretchen Leigh is a stay-at-home mom who lives in Covington. You can read more of her writing and her daily blog on her website livingwithgleigh.com or on Facebook at “Living with Gleigh,” or twitter @livewithgleigh. Her column is available every week at maplevalleyreporter.com under the Lifestyles section.