Empty Nest

I dropped all three of my kids off this morning at school. For the first time. Ever.

I'm still not feeling weepy.

I'm not a bad mother. I'll be counting down the time until the school bus drops them off. I'll miss them every minute of the day that we are apart.

I'll miss the spontaneous hugs and kisses. And the mundane conversations during the day about Dark Vader and his life saver (translated: Darth Vader and his light saber). I'll long for leisurely lunches with my children.

I don't like the idea of someone else consoling them when they are upset about something trivial, no matter how great their teachers are.

I fear for the day that some other child hurts their feelings at the playground by excluding them. I worry that they'll hear words that they don't hear at home. It bothers me to consider security issues while they are away from my protection. Bad weather will concern me more, because I'll wonder if they are worried.

But this is a rite of passage for them. It's time for them to learn greater independence.

I heard years ago that motherhood is a job that, if done correctly, works you right out of a job.

Eight years ago, I gave up my career for my children. I've pondered and prayed about returning to the work force now, but I feel no sense of release from my Lord to go forth and multiply our household income. I have a degree that is not utilized to, what some might say, its fullest potential.

But that education, and God's grace, gave me the confidence and freedom to choose to be a stay-at-home mom. I've given to my children far more important things than money from an added income could buy.

I've given up:

-my share of dessert. But who really needs the extra calories?

-bits and pieces of my sanity on a daily basis (Some of that rests on Bruce's shoulders, though. Just to be fair!).

-the fantasy that my house will be clean any time someone "just drops by". But "clean" is a subjective term anyway.

-far too many hours of restful sleep, due to illnesses, worry or prayer on their behalf. Yet, I wouldn't wish for even one hour of it back just for sleep.

-quiet time with my husband. But amid the interruptions, there is always unexpected laughter over something silly.

-a self-centered existence and the burden of thinking solely of my own wants (because theirs are made clear to me fairly frequently).

None of this is unique to me.

It's just being a parent.

The toughest job you'll ever love.

And that's as pensive as I'm going to get about this first experience with empty nest syndrome.

I've got to get to Wal-mart to do my twice-a-month, clear-out-the-checking-account shopping. It's the first time in nearly a decade that I've gone solo... during daylight hours.

Maybe it's time for mommy to have greater independence, too.