empty nest in the batting circle
We are DAYS away from the event I have looked forward to since I got pregnant the first time: EMPTY NEST!
I have enjoyed many minutes of my time as a full-time mother, maybe even hours, but it is time to give up the children to the rest of their lives, to their own ambitions and purpose, to their own discernment and hearts.
Jim and I plan on doing fun things together. We have a trip up north planned. We are always looking for new places to explore, and now is the time since we don't have anymore band concerts, conferences, games, events, church youth activities, SEMINARY, etc to get in our way.
I am glad I have many memories and pictures of my children when they were my little children. Those little children only exist in my head and in pictures, since my kids choose not to remember what being a little kid was like (Matt disavows squibbers, Hayley shakes her head at finger gymnastics, Paul closes his eyes and ears to strange language, Jimmy cleans without fuss and refuses to remember when he argued, and Katie laughs at stories of her inability to sleep without parental cuddles, and gets indignant when her children get up to bedtime hijinks and difficulties).
We've gone through all our kitchen junk to see what items we can donate to Matt's college kitchen needs, and thankfully, he's pretty much set.
My mother contributed a spiral bound notebook complete with outdated calendar information. She's good for that kind of thing. And a few laughs.
We leave next Monday.
I have enjoyed many minutes of my time as a full-time mother, maybe even hours, but it is time to give up the children to the rest of their lives, to their own ambitions and purpose, to their own discernment and hearts.
Jim and I plan on doing fun things together. We have a trip up north planned. We are always looking for new places to explore, and now is the time since we don't have anymore band concerts, conferences, games, events, church youth activities, SEMINARY, etc to get in our way.
I am glad I have many memories and pictures of my children when they were my little children. Those little children only exist in my head and in pictures, since my kids choose not to remember what being a little kid was like (Matt disavows squibbers, Hayley shakes her head at finger gymnastics, Paul closes his eyes and ears to strange language, Jimmy cleans without fuss and refuses to remember when he argued, and Katie laughs at stories of her inability to sleep without parental cuddles, and gets indignant when her children get up to bedtime hijinks and difficulties).
We've gone through all our kitchen junk to see what items we can donate to Matt's college kitchen needs, and thankfully, he's pretty much set.
My mother contributed a spiral bound notebook complete with outdated calendar information. She's good for that kind of thing. And a few laughs.
Comments