It's called the empty nest, but that's misleading.

It's really the tired nest. The cranky nest. The confused nest. Sometimes, all those at once.

The empty-tired-cranky-and-confused nest.

It is the punch line of the sick joke life plays on parents after they dreamt for years of everything they'd do once the kids grew up, after their days as human checkbooks had ended and they had peace, quiet and only each other for company at the dinner table.

But the last kid leaves and the party's getting started when there is a knock at the door.

Surprise! Meet your new roommates! Ms. Menopause and Mr. Mid-Life Malaise!

You did not count on these two when you were making the "to do" list for the kid-free part of your life.

Every parent has this list. When my kids were bad, I locked myself in the bathroom, gobbled M&Ms and worked on my list. This was cheaper than Valium and didn't impair my driving.

These "kid-free" lists are pretty much all the same. They begin: We, Mr. and Mrs. Average Parent, will do the following when the kids are gone.

1. We will be naked more.

2. We will parachute out of airplanes and climb mountains.

3. We will worry about ourselves first.

4. We will be the same people we were before we had kids.

5. We will be crazy and carefree with money.

Drumroll, please. Here comes that awful punch line. When the door slams after the last kid's out, you find:

1. Running around the house naked sounded better than it looks.

2. Your mind can climb mountains. Your lower back cannot.

3. You think you are done worrying about kids because they are grown up. But they are not done with you.

4. You'd like to be the same people you were before. If only you could remember that far back.

5. You are not capable of being carefree with money, or anything. Parenting beat it out of you.

The most carefree thing you do now is eating potato chips right before dinner. And you look around to make sure nobody is watching, even though you are in the house alone.

So, instead of wild partying, this is the scene in your kitchen every night.

Him: Yahoo! I've been waiting 28 years for a little romance with the meat loaf.

Her: (Sigh) I'm in hormone hell. Where's the Advil?

Him: Find it fast. Only 10 minutes to Alex Trebek, if we can stay awake that long. (Yawn.)

Her: How about I scratch your back during Double Jeopardy?

Him: Ooh. Say that again slowly! And pass the gravy.

That's how it goes in the empty-tired-cranky-and-confused nest. The kids move out, middle age moves in and the big excitement is the battle over who gets the last chunk of meat loaf.

Of course, you can sit there and eat naked every night if you want. Or maybe not.

Kathleen Norton is public editor at the Poughkeepsie (N.Y.) Journal, a Gannett newspaper.