Tag: adult kids

Dessert Menu Please

The other day, my husband and I got our calendars together to try to figure out and schedule fun “empty nest” plans – events, weekends away, etc. It was then that I noticed that our weekends in September were already filled up with plans with one or more of our grown kids. (Plans our kids came up with – not us.) If you are at all worried about loneliness in your soon-to-be upcoming empty nest, don’t be. My friends and family who have grandchildren (and yes, I’m so jealous) always say that having grandchildren is THE BEST. They always say that it is like getting the “dessert” part of raising kids. It’s so sweet and delightful and fun and easy and breezy. With grandchildren, you don’t have the worries, the everyday mundane stuff, the constant responsibilities, and when you are exhausted, the grandkids go back home. Everything that happens with grandkids is easy to laugh off as adorable, lovable, and easily solvable (by somebody else). Interestingly, I’ve been noticing lately that the empty nest also seems to give you the “dessert” part of your own kids, now that they are grown adults, with their own separate lives. It’s a lot of fun. It’s easy and breezy. The worries and the mood swings and having to juggle everyone’s crazy schedules are no longer on my everyday plate. And when we all start to get on each other’s nerves, we all head back to our own homes, to make our own meals, and to do our own laundry. Once you get past the “wow, that whole raising a family bit, it really went by so fast” existential shock of it all, empty nest is truly lovely. And the hatchlings still fly by the nest for visits, here and there, and sometimes even more often than you would think. And that’s when you get to savor being with the “dessert versions” of your own children, and they, too, get to experience the sweetest part of you.

“Desserts are the fairy tales of the kitchen – a happily-ever-after to supper.” – Terri Guillemets

“Dessert is a necessity of life.” – Adrienne Posey

“Work is the meat of life, pleasure the dessert.” – B. C. Forbes

“I love dessert. I can’t be guilty about it because I have to taste everything. I experiment.” – Martha Stewart

Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.

Monday – Funday

Credit: @woofknight, Twitter

My adult kids and their friends were talking and laughing about their latest experiences with job recruiters the other day, so I thought that this meme was a good one to share for a Monday chortle.

I am having the same experience that I had many, many years ago, when my youngest child first went to kindergarten and I got used to a full school year of the house all to myself during the day . . . . and then summer arrived. My youngest two children are here, for this month, after many, many months of it being just my husband and I here at home. It goes without saying, that we adore our children and there are a lot of good things about having them back home with us again. But then there are sayings like “What I don’t know, can’t hurt me,” that ring true when your adult children come back to live with you.

Since starting our family, summer has always been the season of adjustment. Summer is the pausal season before autumn comes up and cranks up the regular routine once again. Some day, when all of our children are done with their secondary schooling and fully into their own adult lives, perhaps summer won’t be such a noticeable change in our lives. Despite getting a glimpse of that possibility, it turns out that my husband and I just aren’t quite ‘there’ yet. So we will soldier on . . .

Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.

Tuesday’s Tidbits

+ I’m relatively new to the iPhone and the thing that I could do without is Siri’s attitude. When I say, “Hey Siri”, she says “Um-hmm” in a tone that I read as slightly condescending, distracted, “fake” cheerful and annoyed. It’s almost as if “uh-hmm” is short for “What do you want now? I’m kinda busy out here in the ethersphere. ” I think that I would prefer something like, “Hi, beautiful! How can I help you?”, in a delighted, enthusiastic, tail-wagging, eager tone. I find Siri’s “um-hmm” almost as annoying as women who are at least 35 years younger than me, calling me “honey.”

+ In the beginning of the year, I found myself chomping at the bit to get back to “normal.” Our four adult children, overlapping their holiday visits, between them all, kind of like a Venn diagram, were here at home, for a total of about four weeks, in various counts and measures. Towards the end of the holidays, my adult children said that I started repeating the same questions which I supposedly have always asked during every school break since they were little ones, “When do you go back now? Is it almost time for you to go back?” (Our kids do an interesting mocking impression of me asking these questions. They find it quite amusing.) So yesterday, was my first full day entirely by myself. And the house was soooo quiet. And my grocery cart looked pitifully empty with just the groceries for the two of us. And I only had to do one load of laundry. And so, when I got home, I texted to the family chat, with a myriad of cry-face emojis, a question which I also often ask of my kids, “I miss you. When are you coming home again?”

+ As I write this, I am wearing a V-Line Double Chin Reducer face mask, which I saw on Amazon, as the hopeful side of me focused only in on the positive reviews. It fits over my ears and under my chin and I have hopes that my jowls will magically disappear after only a few wearings. Ha. My dogs find this unique mask quite disturbing looking. I know and I understand on a logical level, that this is yet another gimmick which I have fallen for that most likely will not work with any great noticeable measure, and all of the while, it cost me time and money, and it makes me look ridiculous, and vain, and pathetic, and also frightening to my fur babies. And you can laugh at silly old me, but I know that there are a few of you out there, just like me, who while reading this are perhaps wearing a gold flake mask, or trying out a teensy-weensy dollop of that new anti-aging cream from that teeny, tiny $453 jar of “The Emperor’s New Cream” that you insisted on getting for Christmas. The global anti-aging market is now said to be worth almost 60 billion dollars. Sigh.

Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.