This afternoon I left my children with their grandfather. I hugged and kissed them all and then walked out the door, down the stairs, and got into the car. I know I will be back to get them in eight days, but that was probably the most difficult thing I have ever done.
It was nice to not have to share my meal at dinner, but I was not able to eat it all.
I felt like babies and pregnant women were following me. I kept seeing them everywhere.
When we got home, Bryan rang the doorbell for Roman (he likes to do that now that he is tall enough to reach it.) I noticed all the little things they had left out, the toys in the guest room, the dinosaur on the counter. Roman's accomplishment sticker chart for going potty was on the wall of the bathroom. He had even forgotten his M&M; it was still on the counter.
I stood there thinking that, as nice as it was not to hear arguing and crying, I missed my kids. I like having them around. I have not been without a child for the past seven years, except for one weekend when Roman was six months old and we went to a cabin for the weekend. All other times, I have either had a baby in my arms or my womb. This is the first time since Bryan and I have been married that we have been without children.
I guess that will all end tomorrow when we load up the van with 21 teens. But, still, they are not ours; we are not their parents. We just get to go hang out with them for the week and watch out that no one injures themselves too badly.
I do not know if I will survive the "empty nest" when that time comes. I am definitely not ready for it to happen any time soon. I love being a mom. I love my children. I missed them before I had even said good bye.
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