The girls are both at summer camp this week, a place I previously wrote about here and here. It’s a wonderful place. And I was thrilled for them, because every kid deserves to go to summer camp, and this one in particular is extra special.
As their bus pulled away on Sunday morning I knew they’d have a week teeming full of sunshine, swimming, canoeing, campfire singalongs and all sorts of campy fun with boys and girls their age.
It took me about 30 seconds before I started missing them. And I still do. This empty feeling hasn’t abated. The other day I went for a walk to clear my head and grab a coffee and I found myself in the local neighborhood toy store for cryin’ out loud. A toy store! Without my kids! Looking longingly at the $109.00 Lego Hogwart’s Express and wondering if it would make a nice welcome home present. But I didn’t buy it.
Here’s the thing about being a parent, especially a work-at-home parent. Sometimes all I want is just five geedee minutes of quiet so I can finish writing the article/story/blog post I’m working on. But oh, sweet irony, when I finally get those five minutes, nay, a giant stretch of minutes strung together like a macaroni necklace – like today – I miss the chaos. Suddenly, it’s too quiet. I miss their shouts and laughter and yes, even the interruptions, when they gleefully come running into the office to tell me about the latest antics of Betty and Veronica, or about their library book/lego sculpture/invention/magic potion/drawing.
What will we do when they leave home?
