You’d think I’d be good at this by now. That it would be easy. That I’d be following the advice of so many
callous and uncaring empty-nester friends and celebrating.
I still hate it when they go away. Good-byes after vacations. After whirlwind weekends home. At the end of the summer. It sucks every time.
This time around it is a bit different, though. For one thing, I haven’t seen much of my dearest boy over the summer. He worked six days of each week. Went out of town repeatedly to spend time with his girlfriend. I recognize and understand that at this point in his life, I’m a whole lot more attached to him than he is to me. Of course I’m thrilled that he’s entirely self sufficient, quite mature, and extremely capable. But…ouch, nonetheless.
Making it worse is the fact that my constant companion for the entire summer, our Middle, is as “off on her own” as she’s ever been. Still living at home, yes, but working V-E-R-Y long hours, finally in her own classroom and absolutely loving her first teaching job. I’m terribly proud of her. And I miss her terribly.
And the fact that our brilliant, fun, and always funny Oldest is still 17 hours away for the foreseeable future, only to be seen in way-too-short bursts on the big holidays.
Tomorrow is my last day with my boy for a while. He’ll be home to pack up, but I’ve reserved his time for lunch out and a shopping trip. I’ll savor those couple of hours together. Oh, and I’ve made him promise to play a few games of cards and Bananagrams with me.
It’s true that I’ve got plenty of my own stuff going on. I’m really not as pitiful as I sound.
But I can’t help thinking today of the whole reason I started this blog originally – trying to deal with a lonely, emptying nest.
I said it then and I’ll say it again now: Being “Mama” is the best job I ever had. Having it mostly taken away hurts like a bitch.