The Nest, an Update

Some cliche's are unbearable. Others seem to hit the spot with razor sharp accuracy. Although my husband and I have recently become - insert cliche'- empty-nesters, the nest is far from empty. And this cliche' is ironic.

Oh yes, the children don't sleep here anymore. Blissfully, they don't keep their stuff here, either. Well, maybe a little bit of it.

It's been twenty eight years since we went to bed without being conscious of the babes in our charge, and it does take some getting used to.

Ok, I think we've got it.

So now when we go to the store, the things we buy are more befitting a couple trying to stay healthy, trim down and keep the food budget low. Not much different than before, except it's a whole lot more tempting to eat out, now that we're only paying for two. So much for the budget, and on the rare but wonderful occasion when we're all together, it's really nice to splurge and have a feast of a meal.

The once grand central station - the laundry room -  is nearly deserted, and I have it all to myself.

No one comes behind me and dirties up dishes after I have the kitchen clean. But then again, no one is there to unload it either. Now it's all my job.

No one is there to let the dog out if I'm out all day.

No one there to check the stove and make sure I've turned it off when dashing out of the house, or text my grocery list to me that I left on the fridge.

But in its place are memories of five girls (one big one) making play doh food, musical and artistic experiments, snail watching, pinatas on the tree out front, tents in the living room, human turkeys making an appearance at Thanksgiving, miraculous abundance at Christmas, Mom's Movie Matinee, Snowballs, bonfires that went way too late, the never ending clothing exchange, a guest closet full of signatures, and feeling so grateful that often, even in the middle of chaos, (and believe me we know the definition of chaos) I tried my best to appreciate the moment I was in.

The joy of raising children is now in its afterglow, and that fills a whole house.

Just Another Friday Night at the Maris'

I'm enjoying watching a bunch of kids all dressed up and having a great time in my backyard, while I catch a minute of quiet. Some day it will be too quiet, so for now-party on kids. It'll be your turn to host next, and I hope you'll remember that I did it joyfully! 

Parenting Teenagers: Another Amazed by God post

My husband's temples are greying; I cover mine magically at the hairdressers. We are the parents of teens.

The setting was our bedroom and a discussion ensued with one of our teens about how we should be harder on them, that we were pushovers. I believe my husband, ironically, was singled out as a pushover, but I may have misunderstood.

We explained, in our defense, that we've never worried they'd all go over the deep end, indeed, we'd decided long ago that we'd never be the kind of parents that sat around licking our adolescent-rearing sores. We've tried to maintain a positive and even welcoming demeanor regarding the arduous task of raising teens. The main reason we've done this is that we've seen the opposite scenario far too many times, with dire results.Parents badmouthing their teens in front of others never accomplishes anything productive, except maybe some venting.

Our children have responded by being the kind of teens that are easy to like, most of the time. I hope I'm not painting such a rosy picture that you think we aren't normal, that we haven't been in a spin when a hormonal rampage ravages (with five females in the house we've had our share) or that we haven't ever gasped inwardly at the dates that have arrived to whisk them away from us. But overall, we like our kids along with loving them. We're proud of who they are.

'So', we concluded, 'We trust you even more after you tell us how you think we should be tougher, because it tells us how much you care about who you're becoming.'

There was a pause.

'We trust you.'

The pause deepened. It sunk all the way in.

The weighty mass of responsibility settled on younger shoulders, not our own.

And upon reflection I wondered, does God trust us to be faithful Christians? I can't imagine Him running around worrying whether or not we'll live up to His grace. He expects we will. He does, doesn't He?

When we get this, we do.