I'm Only Kidding Myself

I was inspecting a pineapple at the grocery store Saturday when a young man from church greeted me.

"All those Boys left yet?" he asked.

"No, but tomorrow morning Boy#4 leaves at 5 a.m., and he'll be the last one," I told him.

The computer cords have disappeared from the television room, the rolled-up socks have been pulled from under the sofa cushions, and the house is settling back on its foundations. The Boys are back at school.

I miss them. They're at a really delightful age to have around--they sense moods, are grateful someone else is cooking, and they carry in groceries.

I don't miss them. While they're gone I conveniently forget that one boy cannot walk into a room where another boy is taking up space without, at the last, bumping into that space-taking boy and, at the most, putting him into a headlock and wrestling him to the floor. "You guy-eeeees," I whine, "don't do that! Stop it! You're going to break something! You guy-eeees!"

I miss them. It's nice to be able to talk about family craziness in a safe forum because there is craziness in every family but it's not polite (or kind) to talk about it outside the family.

I don't miss them. Even though the shoes in today's photo are guest shoes courtesy of the best-behaved grand-nieces and grand-nephews EVER, they are representative of the shoes scattered in every single room of the house while the Boys are at home. (Really? You take off your shoes to go to the bathroom?)

I miss them. I like their friends, and I love hearing them laughing downstairs late into the night after I've gone to bed, and I love the Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough Brownies they make in their marathon baking sessions.

I don't miss...oh, who am I trying to kid? I miss them.