As April 20th draws nearer, I'm finding myself feeling more and more melancholy. On the 20th, my baby is turning one. He's our IHC baby...the reason we missed IHC 2006 completely. On April 19th, we were planning on attending Wed. of IHC...the day that GBs people have off work to attend. That morning I felt a little "different" as we were rushing around getting ready. On the way to Dayton, I stopped by the ob/gyn and had a routine appointment.(all of us dressed up for IHC, mind you!) While there, I had time-able contractions and it was determined that Caleb was determined that we would not get to go to IHC after all. He was born at 5:30 the following morning. So, needless to say, as I look forward to being at IHC this year, it's also bittersweet because it means a whole year has QUICKLY flown by.
Today, while thumbing through a book I borrowed from my mom, I found the following article by one of my favorite authors, and got that "lump in my throat"....and wanted to share it with the rest of you.
A young mother writes: "I know you've written before about the empty-nest syndrome, that lonely period after the children are grown and gone. Right now I'm up to my eyeballs in laundry and muddy boots. The baby is teething; the boys are fighting. My husband just called and said to eat without him, and I fell off my diet. Lay it on me again, will you?"
Okay. One of these days, you'll shout, "Why don't you kids grow up and act your age!" And they will. Or, "You guys get outside and find yourselves something to do....and don't slam the door!" And they won't.
You'll straighten up the boys' bedroom neat and tidy: bumper stickers discarded, bedspreads tucked and smooth, toys displayed on their shelves. Hangers in the closet. Animals caged. And you'll say out loud, "Now I want it to stay this way." And it will.
You'll want a perfect dinner with a salad that hasn't been picked to death and a cake with no finger traces in the icing, and you'll say, "Now, there's a meal for company." And you'll eat it alone.
You'll say, "I want complete privacy on the phone. No dancing around. No demolition crews. Silence! Do you hear?" And you'll have it.
No more gates to stumble over at the top of the stairs. No more playpens to arrange a room around. No more sand in the sheets; no more rubber bands for ponytails, tight boots, or wet, knotted shoe strings.
Imagine. No more babysitters. Washing only once a week. Seeing a steak that isn't ground. Having your teeth cleaned without a baby on your lap.
No PTA meetings. No car pools. No blaring radios. Think about it. No more Christmas presents out of toothpicks and library paste. No more sloppy oatmeal kisses. No more tooth fairy. No giggles in the dark. No knees to heal, no responsibility.
Only a voice crying,"Why don't you grow up?" and the silence echoing, "I did."
Told you I was melancholy! I doubt I need to convince you any further.....lol!