It's approaching and I dread it. The birds are singing the annoying songs of summer way too early, which sounds a lot like the screeching sounds of your kid learning the recorder at 5am. (Speaking of which, I'll be donating my youngest's recorder to Goodwill the day after school ends.) I'm stocking up on sunscreen that I will still have to nag my kids to wear. I'll also have to help them apply it because somehow they are still incapable of putting it on without my assistance. I'm mentally preparing for the barrage of my kids and their friends in my personal space 24/7 eating all my food and leaving their dirty dishes everywhere.
But, that's not the worst of it.
What's even worse is that my oldest will be a senior in high school next year and this could be the last summer he's home driving me out of my mind wanting to borrow the car all the time. The last summer our family camps all together. The last time tubing down our favorite lazy river all together on Father's Day. The last time we force all the kids to hike with us for mandatory family fun time. The last time we have happy hour at our neighborhood pool all together, eating and swimming with friends well into the evening.
But that's still not the worst of it.
The worst is that the next summer is the last summer with my next kid. And then a couple years later with the next one and then a few years after that, the youngest one. Soon I'll have an empty nest. They'll be no chaos. Or plates lying around with baked on cheese from disgusting frozen burritos heated up way too long in the microwave. No annoying sounds of screeching recorders or kids fighting over whose turn it is on the xbox or whose turn it isn't to walk the dogs. What will I do then?
It's going to be quiet & peaceful.
It's going to be boring & lonely.
It's going to suck.
LOL! I'm sorry for laughing but even when you lament you're humorous. You have a few years left to enjoy the chaos. Believe me, by the time the last chick leaves you will be ready for the shift into a new life, new role, new adventures. It's much like a pregnant woman when she can't bear her burden any longer, she is ready for the pain. Even eager. And so you shall be when the last feather is swept from the floor and your music is blasting as you sing into the broom handle with no one around to ridicule.
ReplyDeleteI was 50 when my chicks flew. Initially I was lonely, but within a couple of years I was discovering another me. One who was ready to soar solo again and discover and endless sky full of potential.
Great post my friend. Enjoy your last few summers with the chaos.
XO