It’s so quiet. My house is so very quiet now that both kids are young men away at college.
I’ve woken up every morning for the last couple of weeks thinking about the number of days left having them live in our house full time. It’s like a sad countdown to something sad.
With the kids now on their own, I envision them standing too close to the TV, running with scissors and eating the last cookie. Ah, the sweet freedom of adulthood.
ADVERTISEMENT
How should I fill my time?
The first thing I’m going to do is not cook. Jeff can enjoy a bowl of cereal for dinner. Actually, it’s my mother-in-law’s secret recipe.
Other than that, I have zero plans.
I could pick something easy, like drinking, but I don’t really like to. Plus, the boys are in a fraternity, so drinking is probably more “their thing” and I don’t want to be a copycat. Fun fact: they’re in the same fraternity. What could go wrong? Now they’re double brothers. DosBros.
Should I get a dog? I could teach it to play fetch. That would be a refreshing change after years of the boys playing kvetch.
Another option is taking yoga — I could practice popular poses like the downward spiral.
Maybe watching Hallmark movies should be my new hobby, but they’re so predictable: Big city businesswoman moves back to her small hometown because her mom/aunt/grandfather’s bakery is going under. Good timing since her high-powered boyfriend dumped her. She needs a fresh start. As Boss Babe figures out how to save the bakery, her hunky high school sweetheart arrives to do some handy work. They reconnect, he fixes her heartbreak and they get married. Snooze.
ADVERTISEMENT
What the Hallmark channel needs is some spice. Some sex. Some raunch. Throw in a threesome or a cheating scandal. Maybe Boss Babe has an injury, and Handy Hunk offers to help.
AAANNNDDD ACTION!
Handy Hunk: “What can I help you with?”
Boss Babe: “Well, I can’t unhook my bra.”
Handy Hunk: “But I thought you hurt your foot.”
Boss Babe winks at the camera and the credits roll.
AAANNNDDD SCENE!
Poof! I’m a Hallmark fan!
With our nest empty, I need to up my serotonin. My serotonin isn’t homemade, it’s store bought.
Maybe I’ll just shove my feelings down with food. Or Xanax. Or food AND Xanax. It’s like an emotional support combo meal. Supersize me! I could crush the pills with one of the useless kitchen gadgets I bought off Instagram and use the crumbs as a breading for chicken strips or as sprinkles on an ice cream sundae. Delicious!
News flash: I sometimes use humor as a way to deflect from uncomfortable feelings and, oy vey, am I uncomfortable with these feelings. You don’t need to be a shrink to figure that one out. If I were Catholic, I would give up yucky feelings for Lent.
Ugh, my feelings, my feelings, my feelings.
When you’re living through your own story, you can’t skip any of the chapters, even the painful ones. So here I am, in a quiet house with all of my feelings, braising like a Rosh Hashanah brisket.
I’m going to have a whole lot of me time. I don’t want me time, I want them time.
My husband and I have spent 19 years giving our children roots. And now we are giving them wings.
But now that both boys aren’t here, who is going to call me Bruh?
