<p>Ive always wished to have a perfectly neat house and quiet, and I finally got my dream, and I hate it!
I miss stepping on shoes when I open the front door. I miss finding socks in the unusual places. I miss dirty dishes on the table. I miss the huge laundry baskets. I miss the driveway with no cars. I miss so many things that once annoyed me. Everything is in its place and it feels so wrong
Am I the only one who feels this way? Thanksgiving looks so far away
</p>
<p>Exactly why I have told myself many times over the years to TRY not to fret over such things. When you are driving into the college entrance those 18 years seem like they went WAY too fast!!!!!</p>
<p>I will still have two at home when D #1 leaves in 2 weeks - but I DREAD going past here room (messy as it is!) when she is not there.</p>
<p>Hang in there...and be thankful for cell phones and email...</p>
<p>Don't worry - when they come home for break you will get to enjoy the mess again for awhile and then wish it were gone again LOL
I feel conflicted - I do enjoy the ease of housekeeping, but it is a daily reminder of her being gone.
I do feel sorry for her roommates though......</p>
<p>This reminds me of a poem that I had displayed in my foyer for years and years....</p>
<p>(get a hanky):</p>
<p>"This Is A Home Where Children Live"</p>
<p>You may not find things all in place,
Friend, when you enter here,
But, we're a home where children live,
We hold them very dear.</p>
<p>And you may find small fingerprints
And smudges on the wall.
When the kids are gone, we'll clean them up;
Right now, we're playing ball.</p>
<p>For there's one thing of which we're sure:
These children are on loan.
One day they're always underfoot,
Next thing you know, they're gone.</p>
<p>That's when we'll have a well-kept house,
When they're off on their own.
Right now, this is where children live:
A loved and lived in home.</p>
<p>Judith Bond, 1986</p>
<p>My husband's aunt gave me a framed print with this saying when our first daughter was born. Very similar sentiment! When I would see the house a mess, I would remind myself what was most important. </p>
<p>"Cleaning and scrubbiing can wait 'til tomorrow
But babies grow up so we've learned to our sorrow
So quiet down cobwebs, dust go to sleep
I'm rocking my baby, and babies won't keep! "</p>
<p>I flew yesterday and mom was already cleaning the house, I called her this morning and she had a very strange voice, she said she has allergies from all the dust we left in our rooms, but I know she didn’t enter neither room, she was crying… I miss her very much already. Could you guys take good care of her if she decides to roam around here?</p>
<p>Cressmom, come on over to my place for coffee. Plenty of clutter here.</p>
<p>Trapper,
Bless you for calling your mom and realizing the pain she was trying to hide. I hope my kids are as considerate when they head off to their new lives. Keep calling!! :)<br>
P.S. You just made me cry!</p>
<p>Cressmom - what I find is that the stories they tell me of the lives they are beginning to build for themselves come back and inhabit the rooms they left behind.</p>
<p>Trapper- what a lovely thought!</p>
<p>I was so bummed about our college graduated daughter going off to China for a year that I talked my husband into getting a foreign exchange student. It was sad cleaning out my daughters dressers and closet but it's so nice to have a new person to look forward to. My daughter is very enthusiastic as she knows this fall was going to be hard for me without her. I had thought of this before when she and then her brother went off to college but didn't know what we would do at break times.</p>
<p>When my oldest went off to college last year, it was nothing. I still had a senior at home, and there was a lot to be done, a BIG year to look forward to (his last big year pitching for a varsity baseball team), college applications, decisions, plans... </p>
<p>Now they are both gone. We dropped them off yesterday. I feel soooo lost and sad right now. It hit me today. I guess I sort of anesthetized myself last night because I had a couple drinks. </p>
<p>I feel like my whole job in life is over now. I never thought I'd feel like this...just two days ago I was looking forward to not having to pick up after them anymore! It's not so much that I can't or won't see them- they are only a few hours away and we're hoping to go to some Gator football games (if we get tickets!). It's just that I have so many memories in this house, when we moved in, how excited the kids were to have a pool, how thrilling it was to start at a new school, Little League baseball, band, class elections, homework, projects....it's all over now. It's like a whole phase of my life is gone. I'm not a mom anymore; or rather, I am still a mom but not in the real sense of the word. </p>
<p>I never ever thought I'd feel like this. I can't stop thinking about them as little boys; I walk around the house and just look and wonder where the past 10 years have gone.</p>
<p>Anyway, sorry to be so sad. Hug your kids who are still home tonight. Time goes by so fast.</p>
<p>A friend on another board posted this when I was talking about missing my daughter:</p>
<p>Whenever I get to missing my boys, I read this. It always makes me cry but makes me feel better, too. It is from Kahlil Gibran's The Prophet:</p>
<p>"And a woman who held a babe against her bosom said, Speak to us of Children.
And he said:
Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and the daughters of Life's longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And although they are with you yet they belong not to you.</p>
<p>You may give them your love, but not your thoughts,
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies, but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.</p>
<p>You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth.
The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite, and He bends you with His might that His arrows may go swift and far.
Let your bending in the archer's hand be for gladness;
For even as He loves the arrow that flies, so He loves also the bow that is stable."</p>
<p>kathiep, now I'm crying!</p>
<p>By this time next week, we will be back home without D. Thanks to all the above posters for pushing my tears a little closer to the surface!</p>
<p>kathiep,
Now I am a mushy puddle again. And DS1 doesn't leave for another year... </p>
<p>My honorary DS3 leaves in six days, though. His mom is holding up well, but I'm a mess.</p>
<p>kathiep,
Thanks for the lovely poem. I hadn't read The Prophet since I was in college and I didn't remember that verse. It does make me feel better!</p>
<p>Now I'm dreading next week when I'll be in my neat, empty nest. </p>
<p>katiep: I love that part of The Prophet. H used to make tapes with snippets of all sorts of things put together artfully, usually on a particular theme. These were lcourting gifts. He would leave them on my doorstep on his way to work, and I would find them when I left at 7:30. One contained the passage you quoted, professionally and dramatically read, set among some beautiful songs. That passage helped me let my children be their own people.</p>
<p>doubleplay and everyone else: hang in there, and next week (Tues. for S, Fri. for D) tell me how you did it.</p>