empty nest
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Sunday Rice
Food is how I connect with my son. He loves to eat, he is wildly curious about how I make what I make, and wants to do it himself. Talking about food is a safe, non-intrusive way of connecting without digging around, we can talk about what he ate there, and with whom, and where. This allows me to learn quite a bit about his life, without him having to give me a full detailed account of his comings and goings, what’s going on with his friends, and what he’s been up to and where. The 2 am pancakes, are a perfect example. The ones his roommate made for the…
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I’m Friends With My Son’s Ex-Girlfriend
I get random texts from her, I follow her on Facebook — because she delights me– and sometimes, when he’s not around, I actually sneak over to her house and look at her Europe photos. She just got back. I’d like to spend even more time over there — but I can’t. I’m busy — and I just wish she could still come over and just hang-out in my kitchen like she used to do when they were dating. Then, we could really catch up — and laugh. Yes, my son knows I still have a relationship with her, but the last thing I want to do is make either…
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There’s Probably a Rosie Meme Somewhere
On what was a long, exhaustive day of college student/dorm movement, I saw more student belongings and dutiful parents shoving the trunks of cars full of cargo, and embraces between parents and children to last me for a lifetime. And all I could do was sit in my spot in the passenger seat and come to terms with the fact that I have three more sons ahead of me. Watching other people move, with no place to run and hide, was more drama than I could bear. Of course, it wouldn’t have been so bad if I could’ve actually been busy and helped move the boxes, the clothes, the half-opened…
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Stressed Out
It’s hard, when the Spotify channel blares from the phone they carry from room to room throughout the house, to ignore the words that come out of that tiny speaker. Almost piercing, with direct stabs, getting to the truth of what is happening, and what we actively, silently trying to push aside, as we wash their socks, cook their meals, pick up their jackets… …But it would remind us of when nothing really mattered, Out of student loans and treehouse homes we all would take the latter. …. Wish we could turn back time, to the good ol’ days, When our momma sang us to sleep but now we’re stressed…
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When We All Breathe Under the Same Roof
Now that so many universities are on semesters, there is this sweet little two day bonus, called Fall Break. It’s actually more like three school days, and plus the weekend — so it’s almost like a mini-week of delicious one-on-one time with my oldest. Wednesday morning, I put fresh sheets on his bed, started cooking a roast — oh, and the night before, in anticipation of all the good food I planned to be pumping him with, I started cooking chicken broth in the crock pot. This would ensure every meal would be infused with bone broth. He arrived home early Wednesday afternoon, arms laden with smelly laundry, and books…
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It’s Not As Bad As My Imagination Tells Me It’s Going To Be
His “box” from college is sitting in the basement, waiting for us to pack him up and take him back. The same box we loaded last fall. The box has sat “untouched” since he came home last May. He no longer needs that scrub brush with the soap inside to wash out his water bottle, the lamp that clips onto the side of his bed, the bulletin board, the lock for his computer…He’s home now. The days are getting shorter, and soon it will be time to load him up again, and take him back. Sometimes, I remember that day, the first time he went to college, and I don’t…
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MOM, Send Care Packages
We dropped them off for camp. The college, ornate and pristine, with floors already polished, as if school will start tomorrow. Tucked away in a hidden, busy part of town, this college was once my client. As we drove past the entrance to the administrative buildings, I tried hard to imagine myself here, twenty years ago, dressed in black, to discuss media relations. The boys didn’t exist then — so my mind functioned in an entirely different frequency; almost as if there are two of me — the one before four boys, and the one after. So, as we drive by, I silently try to imagine myself as the other…
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There Just Wasn’t Enough Of This
Looking back, at a decade that just seemed to sift through my hands like fine flour, I can honestly say that there just wasn’t enough. It went too fast… Just remembering being the mother of this brood of boys, standing barefoot in the kitchen, wiping the peanut butter off the counters, as they took off on their fishing adventure. Reprinted from 2009: They rose early, packing their smashed jelly sandwiches, and the left-over peanut butter cookies they made the day before. This was going to be a BIG day. Heading out in their fishing boat, finally relenting and letting their little brother tag-along, to catch the big fish. They were…
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That Flush of Spring Break is Over
The early flush of spring break quickly wore off as life began to hit us hard. The evenings I had hoped to spend catching up with my son, lingering over warm vegetable-laden soups were quickly replaced with this: Kids, in order by age:Z,A,D,J Who knew that the hairstylist that was running late on a Tuesday afternoon could cause such an avalanche of misfortunate timings. Including a lost pair of sunglasses, Z missing J’s performance and maybe even a C on a science exam. Me: “Get in the car. You need to drive J and me to the high school – we need to be there right now!†Z: “Where’s A?†Me:…
