It's official. Mitch and I are officially empty-nesters.
I no longer know when my kiddos are home safe in bed. I do, however, assume that when I go to bed at 9:00 pm, they are tucked safely in their own beds at their own homes. Reasonable, no?
I no longer get to share breakfasts every day or occasional late-night snacks accidentally. I do however, get to be intentional about when/how/if I see them regularly and make it count. I don't know when they have gotten up on time to be at school or at work.
I no longer have a multitude of clothing choices made possible by Ivey's shopping habit. I no longer have my own personal in-house fashion advisor. I no longer have the option of throwing in the towel and having my in-house hair stylist finish the job on a bad hair day.
I'm glad that our new empty-nest status has come to be in a fancy new place, otherwise old sads from Hunter moving out would be there on top of new ones from his baby sister following in his footsteps.
Our dishwasher remains mostly empty, only needing to be run every few days. Our leftovers NEVER get eaten. I know when I put something somewhere if it isn't exactly who to blame. He can't even deny it, either.
My heart is full and my heart is torn around the edges, too, because although I want them to live with us forever, I get that's not a good idea. Not for anyone. I hate that they have flanked themselves all across Texas, but am grateful it's just Texas.
If you are reading this, call your Mom. She misses you. If you aren't blessed to have your mom still on the planet, feel free to call me. I'll mother you when you need it (or don't). I know it's selfish, and I'll stop being so real soon. Or at least soonish.
