A couple of blogs ago I talked about how sad I am (at times) that my husband and I did not have more than two children. This temporary insanity acts up when I see my husband and his five brothers all together. Although they don’t always get along, I think of how Walton-ish it would have been to have had more.
Enter into evidence, child #1 and child #2. They are both amazing, loving kids who have had to grow up sooner than many of their peers. Even at a young age, they had to watch me suffer in bed unable to get up and attend to their needs as my Rheumatoid Arthritis wrecked havoc on my body.
They learned how to get themselves breakfast, make their school lunches, clean the house, make their beds, answer phone calls and attend to my needs. My husband was wonderful as well but his job kept him away from home for many hours.
Although they may not realize this yet, the circumstances they had to deal with have made them the self-sufficient, sensitive, caring souls that they are today (usually). I am very proud of them and I see the strength and confidence they both have when making decisions.
Well, as my health has improved, thanks to modern medicine, I have noticed that their abilities have… declined. Suddenly, they seem to have forgotten how to make beds, do dishes, clean the house, cook and clean up after themselves. Quite the mystery….wouldn’t you say?
My son is a freshmen in college and my daughter a junior in high school. We have become empty nesters even though my daughter still lives with us because, she is never home. My husband and I find ourselves alone on friday and saturday nights often and have taken full advantage of this new-found freedom. Consequently, the house is relatively clean and neat (except for her bedroom). Who ever said girls are neater anyway?
In two weeks, my handsome 6’2, size 14 shoe – fisherman of a son, will be coming home for the summer. He is funny and kind and brightens up a room. Unfortunately, he also destroys that same room and all the rooms in the house – for that matter. He leaves a trail all around the house and we can trace his every step. Every room can tell a full story of what he is up to. Socks, underwear, crumbs, mac-n-cheese, candy wrappers (when did it become in to throw wrappers on the floor rather than the trash?)
Then there is his fishing paraphernalia. Fishing is his passion and apparently ours as well…or so he thinks. We often trip over fishing line in the living room, come close to being pierced by stray hooks , confuse his worms and bait containers in the fridge for some kind of exotic edible dip and cannot enter the garage without being hit in the head with one of his 50 rods.
My beautiful daughter is a bit sneakier about her messes. We would often find a dirty sock or two of hers stuffed in between the sofa cushions. I kid you not. We would be sitting on the couch, smell something…search under the cushions and, Voilà! When asked why on earth she would do this, she simply stated that the laundry room was too far. It is located two doors down the hallway.
Soon, these two lovely teens of mine, will have forgotten how much they missed each other and will get right back to doing what they do best. Arguing about, who gets the car? Whose turn is it to empty the dishwasher? Why they have to help? How he hasn’t done the dishes in 8 months…and how much hair she leaves in the tub after she showers.
The noise level in the house will increase, our grocery bill will double, the laundry will be overflowing, our water bill will go up, the big screen tv will no longer be ours to enjoy, the kitchen will be sticky, we will be kept awake into the later hours of the night, the fish will be biting and the socks will be a’ hiding. Our nest will feel empty – no more.
Truth be told, I cannot wait…kinda.