Drummer & Darling just got married and are relocating 60 miles away, but with traffic, it will be closer to the 2 hour drive mark.
Bub is in college across the country.
Girlie is home but looking at colleges across the country for 18 months from now as well.
These are all GREAT reasons to leave me!!!! I raised them to do these things. I WANT them to spread their wings to fly!
But being a Mom is my best thing.
I didn't fully appreciate it when they were little.
I kind of rushed them along.
How I WISH I could tell my younger self (just 17 when I had Hacker) to slow down and TREASURE those moments more completely. I had NO WAY of knowing how FAST they would speed by and be over.
It was Christmas and we just had them all here and it was wonderful.
Then they were gone.
Off to have their own lives.
I love my parents but they are not primary... my husband and kids are.
Now I have become auxiliary. It is healthy and good... the way it's supposed to be. But I don't WANT to be auxiliary.
Don't get me wrong, there are some DELICIOUS things about sleeping in, being selfish, not having to go to the grocery store as often, having some quiet here & there, being able to only take ME into consideration, getting a full night of uninterrupted sleep, watching what I want on the TV, not hearing loud blaring music etc., but there is only so MUCH of that one wants. I WANT to be inconvenienced and needed and interrupted and connected.
It makes me think of these poems/musings I have heard over the years... get some tissue:
"My Hands
Were Busy" ~by Anonymous
My hands were busy throughout the day
I didn't have much time to play
The little games you asked me to.
I didn't have much time for you.
I'd wash your clothes, I'd sew and cook,
But when you'd bring your picture book
And ask me please to share your fun,
I'd say: "A little later, son."
I'd tuck you in all safe an night
And hear your prayers, turn out the light,
Then tiptoe softly to the door...
I wished I'd stayed a minute more.
For time is short, the years rush past...
A little boy grows up so fast.
No longer is he at your side,
His precious secrets to confide.
The picture books are put away,
There are no longer games to play,
No goodnight kiss, no prayers to hear...
That all belongs to yesteryear.
My hands, once busy, now are still.
The days are long and hard to fill.
I wish I could go back and do
The little things you asked me to.
My hands were busy throughout the day
I didn't have much time to play
The little games you asked me to.
I didn't have much time for you.
I'd wash your clothes, I'd sew and cook,
But when you'd bring your picture book
And ask me please to share your fun,
I'd say: "A little later, son."
I'd tuck you in all safe an night
And hear your prayers, turn out the light,
Then tiptoe softly to the door...
I wished I'd stayed a minute more.
For time is short, the years rush past...
A little boy grows up so fast.
No longer is he at your side,
His precious secrets to confide.
The picture books are put away,
There are no longer games to play,
No goodnight kiss, no prayers to hear...
That all belongs to yesteryear.
My hands, once busy, now are still.
The days are long and hard to fill.
I wish I could go back and do
The little things you asked me to.
"Song for a Fifth Child:" ~By, Ruth Hubert Hamilton
...Oh, cleaning and scrubbing will wait till tomorrow,
But children grow up, as I've learned to my sorrow.
So quiet down, cobwebs.
Dust, go to sleep.
I'm rocking my baby.
Babies don't keep.
"WET OATMEAL KISSES" ~by
Erma Bombeck
The baby is teething;
The children are crying.
Your husband just called and said “Eat dinner without me.”
The children are crying.
Your husband just called and said “Eat dinner without me.”
One of these days you’ll explode and shout to the kids,
“Why don’t you grow up and act your age?”
And they will.
Or “You guys get outside and find yourself something to do,”
and “don’t slam the door”
And they don’t.
You’ll straighten their bedrooms all neat and tidy;
toys displayed on the shelf;
Hangers in the closet; animals caged.
You’ll yell, “Now I want it to stay this way.”
And it will.
You’ll yell, “I want complete privacy on the phone — no
screaming!
Do you hear me?”
And no one will answer.
Do you hear me?”
And no one will answer.
No more plastic tablecloths with stains of spaghetti.
No more dandelion bouquets.
No more iron-on patches.
No more wet knotted shoelaces,
muddy boots, or rubberbands for ponytails.
Imagine a lipstick with a point!
No babysitter for New Year’s Eve.
Washing clothes only once a week.
No PTA meetings or silly school plays where your child is a tree.
No car pools, blaring stereos, or forgotten lunch money.
No more Christmas presents made of library paste and toothpicks.
No wet oatmeal kisses.
No more tooth fairy.
No more giggles in the dark, scraped knees to kiss
or sticky fingers to wash.
Washing clothes only once a week.
No PTA meetings or silly school plays where your child is a tree.
No car pools, blaring stereos, or forgotten lunch money.
No more Christmas presents made of library paste and toothpicks.
No wet oatmeal kisses.
No more tooth fairy.
No more giggles in the dark, scraped knees to kiss
or sticky fingers to wash.
Only a voice asking – “Why don’t you grow up?”
And a silent echo — “I did.”
And a silent echo — “I did.”
I just wanted you to know I have spent the last two days reading your entire blog archives. I laughed, cried swore I was going to leave my marriage, swore that I was going to stay. I found you through Annette's blog (love). Thank you for sharing and knowing that I am not alone or crazy. That's still up for debate. Keep blogging.
ReplyDeleteA powerful poem that really made me think. Yes, we do grow up and move on. It must be one of the hardest things for a parent. I did not think of it in those terms and the sadness my parents may have felt to be left alone with my being away.
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