Growing Pains

We have been busy, busy, busy... but most of the pictures I've taken were done on the fly, with my cell phone. And Bruce hasn't downloaded them yet.

I'll share them another time.

You know the summer time routine. Surely yours is something like mine.

Running to finish off the school year. Holding Clay's birthday party and attending a couple others. Starting Beth Moore's study of Esther. Decorating for Vacation Bible School. Teaching VBS. Leaving to go camping within minutes of dismantling the decorations for VBS. Swimming lessons. Library trips. Free movies at the local theater.

Aside from having no pictures to upload, and no time to blog anyway, I've also been bone dry on any kind of remotely deepish thoughts. I've had mainly surface level thoughts lately. And even those weren't good enough to share, which just gives you a clue of how very un-deep they have been.

My lack of share-worthy thoughts probably has something to do with the constant chatter of our three magpies, who shadow me nearly 24/7... right as I was getting used to a few hours of silence a day while they were at school. By the time I get used to their chatter, they'll be back in school and I'll be missing the sound of their voices along with the hugs and sloppy Popsicle kisses I've been getting. It's a sad little circle of me forever lagging behind as my children grow up.

Tomorrow I'll drop Clay off at our church. He's going to summer camp. For four days. And three nights.

I think I hate it.

I know he hates it. Right now anyway.

He's been dreading this since I first brought it up a couple of months ago. My dread has crept up more slowly and threatened to overwhelm me this afternoon as I packed for him. He has no idea I might very well cry a bit over this. And he never will, either. I'll wait until tomorrow night, when the younger two are tucked in bed and it's just me and Bruce, and my man can wipe me up from the puddle on the floor I'm sure to become.

I'm going to miss that boy.

He just turned 9.

And 9 is half way to 18. Clay told me that recently. As if I need reminding. (Or maybe he was just questioning my math abilities.)

How do parents do this letting go, bit by bit, business?

I guess it's a good thing. I certainly don't expect any of them to live with us still when they're 30.

No. Because that's when Bruce and I will re-visit our honeymoon, leaving our responsibilities at the drop of a hat, no real plans in mind, just "us" time.

Somebody please remind me of that in the next few days.

And do it often!