And then they went home.
Julie Sucha Anderson
A few weeks ago, we had an invasion of family. Four of our five adult kids and all four grandchildren. A week of constant activity.
When they all drove away on Sunday, I poured a drink. It was 10:45 in the morning. With my husband sequestered downstairs taking a golf nap in front of the TV, I sat in my blue chair and listened to my library book while playing some stupid puzzle game on my phone.
A few hours after that, my husband and I met on the dock. Exhausted. Where I long ago handled three children with organized deft, every day, all day long, it's now much harder at almost 66 to muster the same vigor and strength.
Even though I love, love, love having my grandchildren and children around, it wears my old ass out.
I should learn from my neighbors, who have 10 grandchildren and accompanying parents. They only invite them all out for one day--and then they go home. Let it be said that all of theirs live within an hour and a half. A day trip is much more possible.
They also have a rule where only two grandchildren (all well out of diapers) can come and stay for an extended period of time -- like twenty-four hours.
Me? Probably wouldn't work. I'm a glutton for gathering. For seeing all of mine sitting at my table. A crazy chase of children, toys strewn about the room, art supplies on the table, water and milk and juice cups misplaced in a colorful array about the cabin. For all of us crammed into the boat for a ride that puts several of them to sleep.
Like I said. A glutton.
It is quiet here now. After that Sunday, where I cracked that Ranch Water at 10:45 in the morning, Monday brought a small burst of energy. Our upstairs is a big room encompassing the living room, kitchen, dance floor, and dining room. For months I've needed to wash the laminate floor with something more than an occasional swipe. Travel, sleeping here, sleeping there, and more travel have not left an open window for such work. Besides, I've never enjoyed cleaning.
With the floor task complete, I blew the dust from the book shelves and end tables, replacing the numerous knickknacks to their rightful places after sending them to higher heights in escape from curious little hands.
A return to normal. One where I sit. Although I miss the little bodies squeezed in beside me while reading a book (or playing PBSKids online when a restful repose is necessary) I'm enjoying the quiet. The organized chaos as opposed to the boisterous, liveliness of a houseful of active children.
When I raised my kids, I gave it my all. They sucked out every brain cell I had. Could be why I'm a more relaxed grandma. Why I can handle the mayhem while it's raging. Also why I'm grateful when it's over, while I yearn for their return.
|Manicures by Bob|
|This is what you get, BamaChef, for not being here. We missed you.|
|Almost one. Little Parks.|
|Sometimes you just need to sit with Grandpa and observe.|
|Don't empty the whole bucket at once.|