The Kids Gave Me Endless Inspiration for Television Humor. Where Will the Laughs Originate Now That They Have Left?

Being a mother provided me with a pair of children and a television series (plus an offshoot). When I first stepped into that realm, it was very apparent it constituted a mad world, and perfect for the picking. Trying to find your tribe when you have absolutely nothing in common with your fellow parents, except for babies in the same stage, proves challenging, yet also rich in inspiration for humor.

Throughout the years, I would jot down small incidents or insights that brought a smile: showing up to a kids’ party dressed exactly like a father there; observing with surprise as a mum asked a staff member to turn the heating up in the auditorium during a class outing to watch The Lion King; the mum whose advice for her kids if they got lost amidst people involved "thinking like a predator" (we used this – after getting approval – in the Halloween episode of Motherland).

My document of notes evolved into the TV programme Motherland, and, more recently, Amandaland. However, now my little inspos have left, and I'm unsure how to proceed on my own. They both began university last week (at opposite ends of the country). I had been fearing this moment, and as a single mum I find it too much to handle. Our home is so quiet. That room stays tidy always with no obstacles to stumble over in the hallway. Both gone. Two leaving, none remaining. It's truly heartbreaking.

The Farewell With My Girl

My girl went initially to go. This was an efficient process. Three hours along those motorways as she took over the music and whacking me every time she saw one of those vehicles. We had an appointment to pick up her access, and between the two of us we carried her stuff up several stairs to her dorm; a compact space with the basics: a work surface, seat, sleeping area, storage and a board (no drawing pins). It appeared tidy except for a cereal piece I found inside the closet. After I used my full effort to fit that bedding onto her small double mattress (I ought to have verified this), and unpacked an awful lot of my clothes and makeup that she had pilfered out of my room, the moment arrived for farewells. The sight of her walking away (wearing my footwear) struck me deeply.

Lucy Punch and Anna Maxwell Martin in a 2017 episode of Motherland.

Then Came My Boy's Departure

A week later, there was five hours up the M6 with an overnight stop at a reserved economy lodging filled with sentimental households on the same path. Campus was rammed with packed cars full of bedding, air fryers and anxious students desperately trying to mask their anxiety. I failed to learn my lesson from the previous week and almost passed out, straining like giving birth to get more bedding over another similar bed. Additionally omitted drawing pins. I wished to avoid to cramp my son’s style by hanging around, saying hello those nearby, so we had a solid hug and I succeeded to sneak in an affectionate peck without causing any embarrassment on him whatsoever. He waved, then disappeared into his building, rattling his keys like he’d just bought his first house.

As I drove off, I saw a bunch of students holding banners representing clubs stating phrases such as BEEP FOR NETBALL AND ENCOURAGE WATERSPORTS, so I honked and they cheered and I wept during much of the journey back to my house without anyone to hand me a salt and vinegar Disco.

Dealing With The Void and Planning Forward

Upon returning, my eyes had dried up. I experienced deep loss, then I switched on the corridor lamp and its light came loose of the socket and the feline entered and puked up a small nose with a tail. I took the pet out to the pharmacy today to collect my son’s backup EpiPen due to his shellfish reaction. (Although I'm confident he will succeed in steering clear for the next few years). That stroll took me past the kids’ old primary school. The noise of the little children playing in the playground started me off again and I struggled to control my lip wobble while stating my son’s name, getting his medicine.

I owe so much for my kids. Motherland wouldn’t exist absent their influence. During the initial Motherland Christmas special, a character tries Minecraft (pronounced Mein-Kraft) to see if it’s suitable for his girls. I derived most of his dialogue from my son and his experience of having his homestead set on fire and his pigs stolen by an acquaintance. I’m hoping this new phase as a parent will provide further instances of stories I can use in my writing, although it seems the world goes quiet. The mums sign up in craft classes as fathers have their midlife crises.

Reportedly, Gordon Ramsay used his boy's underwear following the drop-off initially. I feel sorrow yet I believe I’m fine not wearing my kids’ underwear. There are support groups and counsellors focused on empty nest syndrome but instead I've enrolled for netball those weekdays and I’m going to tidy thoroughly our home ready for when their return during the holidays. Let’s hope they bring home ample inspiration!

• Helen Serafinowicz works as a scribe and television producer.