I’ll Take The Mess
The past year has presented many challenges for families all over the world. Many of us have navigated difficult emotions for various reasons and to varying degrees. While it certainly cannot compare to the severity of many quarantine situations, I’ve recently wondered if after eighteen months with my children home 24/7, I will ever have privacy again. When will I have that quiet moment for myself? As the long awaited solitude appears on the horizon, I’ve been backing off that sentiment. As I prepare two of my daughters for college after eighteen months of quarantine, I’ve felt a fleeting ache in my chest as I place orders at Bed Bath and Beyond and Target. As the days tick by and August looms closer, I careen towards the finish line which was once a welcome goal, but today I’m searching for a way to slam on the breaks. As I try to pin down my high school senior, desperate to grab any quality time before she’s off to the midwest, I feel her wriggle and squirm to get back to her friends. As a toddler her twisting and turning to run to the playground was easier to contain and seems like it was not too long ago. I try to imagine consecutive days without multiple carpools, sporting events, and supermarket requests. With only one left at home, my life will seem easy-peasy, but I can’t seem to see any merit in less parenting responsibilities right now. I’ve become accustomed to the hustle and bustle, and now I have to get used to calm and civilized? No thank you.
When the mess goes away, so does the noise, and the piled up shoes, and the unexpected house full of teenagers and I am left with quiet and clean. Again, no thank you. I’ll be trying to figure out how to cook the right amount for two, and how to end my night without forcing three rounds of teenage snuggles and long honest conversations after my barrage of questions.
I’m wondering if the anticipation of missing them is just a normal part of the process. After all, sending a child to college is a day we work towards as parents. We spend eighteen years teaching, correcting, guiding so that one day our children can fly on their own. And with these thoughts, my sadness morphs into gratitude. Gratitude that my daughters have the ability and opportunity to learn, grow and explore away from home. Gratitude that I can provide such an opportunity. While I’ll miss the bustle and whir in my house, I’ll find a smile in knowing how lucky they are to be embarking on an exciting journey, finding their own life's path, with me cheering them on from a very clean and quiet house.