We knew this day was coming.
After a year of college, a year of beauty school, passing the state exam
and getting her first full time job, we knew it was just a matter of time
before the baby girl flew out of the nest.
And that day has arrived.
I left the house this morning for work with my baby girl
sleeping soundly upstairs, but tomorrow she won’t be there. I headed off to work feeling like maybe I
should have taken the day off and had breakfast with her and helped her move.
But moving, especially moving your youngest child out of the house, does not
sound like a fun way to spend the day.
She has been anxious, stressed and nervous the past week or
two. The initial excitement and chatter
of how much fun she and her roommate would have in their own apartment has been
replaced by reality. Her mind is filled with thoughts of how expensive it is to
live on your own and the immense responsibility it is to, well, be responsible
for yourself.
I’ve been handling this pretty well and I have actually been a
little reassured that she doesn’t think it will all just be fun, although it
will certainly be an adventure, as life always is. And she is just moving
across town so we are still here, if she needs us, as she always will. And she
will realize this more and more as time goes by.
But I will miss having her here, telling me my hair looks nice, or my outfit is cute or giving me a hug. I might even miss her items scattered about the downstairs a tiny little bit because after all, those are signs she is home safe once again. And who will I consult with about whether my shoes match my clothes? I just don’t think the tabby boys care about whether shoes match. But I will survive.
But I will miss having her here, telling me my hair looks nice, or my outfit is cute or giving me a hug. I might even miss her items scattered about the downstairs a tiny little bit because after all, those are signs she is home safe once again. And who will I consult with about whether my shoes match my clothes? I just don’t think the tabby boys care about whether shoes match. But I will survive.
Our oldest and our youngest were born 12 years apart, we’ve had
kids in our house for 33 years and 6 months. That’s a long time to be living
with your children. I should be more than ready for this day. She’s almost 21 and it is time for her to spread her wings and fly.
I’m happy, but emotional.
I'm thankful, this is the correct order of life.
If
she can do this, so can I.
Good luck my darling daughter, Mom will always be here when
you need a hug, a hand to hold, advice at 2 a.m., a shoulder to cry on, or a friend to do lunch with.....my treat.
Much Love and Laughter,
Laura
1 comment:
What a sweet post! It is definitely a bittersweet time. While you're excited to have a lot more time for yourself, the house does become a bit more quiet. But, since she is moving just across town, you can still see her on a regular basis.
Post a Comment