What It's Like

Mothers of younger-than-adult children sometimes ask me what it's like to have all of my grown-up, out-of-the-house, earning-their-own-salaries children back in the nest for a few days. (No, they don't really ask that. I'm just saying they do because I imagine they are asking it in their minds.)

The picture above actually sums it up quite well: I asked the Boys to pose outside the Fancy Restaurant where we celebrated my retirement, and that's Boy#2 poking Boy#3 in the ribs and making him laugh, while Boy#4 grins at the camera, and Boy#1 is obviously waiting patiently for the chaos to subside. I am behind my phone saying "Oh, for heaven's SAKE! STOP THAT!"

So in short, in spite of those receding hairlines and professional certifications and graduate degrees, much of the time it's what it's always been: Like dealing with a pack of puppies in need of house training. But there are also other moments during the week of retirement festivities that remind me (again) how much fun it is to be the mother of grown-ups.

This week is the perfect time for any home projects that have been deferred for lack of manpower.  We're having professionals re-do our pathetic backyard, which is currently made up almost entirely of dirt and failure. The pros were going to charge $X.XX to replace two buried pipes between the downspouts and the driveway, though, so Husband decided to take advantage of all the muscle in the house to lower the cost estimate. Included in the photo above are two engineers, one of whom is an actual professional engineer who designs pipeline systems for a living but was thwarted in his argument that "I'm the manager--I don't have to dig." Ha! Not so fast, professional engineer, and grab a shovel. (When he found out how little the lawn folks would have charged to replace the pipe, the PE snorted that next time he would bring a crisp $100 bill to buy his way out of the job.)

Whether you're a child or an adult, being together on the Fourth of July means you get sparklers and spark-pooping chickens and the like, even if you're of an age to overrule your mother's fear of the more robust fireworks. 

Midway through the week is the perfect time to take a generational break and give the young'uns some time to reflect on the crazy that their parents have become. A river float trip is just the right venue, as long as you send an occasional photo as proof of life. This also is an excellent time to do the idiot things your mother would find, well, idiotic. ("How about we jump off this fallen log into the rain-swollen river?" "GREAT idea!") Do not tell your mother about this until later.

This kind of celebration  is the best time for complete abandonment of any dietary restrictions, and when Lovely Girl#1 says she has bought way too many cookies, you must prove her wrong, especially if they are MomQueenBee themed! You'll notice that I am in danger of becoming that overly-thematically-appropriate crazy lady, what with my bee cookie and my bee shirt. Have I mentioned I have a beehive dress? I also have a beehive dress.

But maybe the best part of the week is when everyone is lined up in the same church pew, filling it a little more snugly than when they were toddlers but now able to listen more. The dress code appears to be blue, and I know I shouldn't have been taking a picture during church but I couldn't help myself.

Mothers of younger kids, hang in there during the sleepless nights and need for constant vigilance and refusal to eat any foods that aren't white. Much as we miss them when they're not around, having grown-up, out-of-the-house, earning-their-own-salaries children back in the nest is simply the best stage of all.