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I don't
know why they call it "The empty nest syndrome" when the
kiddies leave the home for college. They should call it, "The empty
car syndrome." Because frankly, I cannot remember the last day when
I didn't have at least three pressing engagements to drive my children
to and from each day. "Let's
get together some time this week and take our younger kids to see that
new Jungle Book movie." My friend Kathy suggested at church last
week. I
thought a moment. "Okay!" I said. "That sounds fun! I
don't think I have anything scheduled for the whole week except for my
music group rehearsal on Wednesday, so that leaves me wide open the rest
of the week." "Call
me." She mouthed, as the hymns signaled the beginning of church. Well,
she should have called me, and she should have called me a big fat FOOL,
because I must have been dreaming on Sunday. Wide open, my foot. By
Tuesday evening, when I was driving one son to HIS soccer practice with
the other anxiously worrying that HE would be late for HIS practice,
meanwhile wondering if I would have to pick my hubby up at the airport
and could I, possibly, manage to drop a check by the band room sometime
that evening and oh, was I going to be available to work the concession
stand that evening for the baseball game? (I didn't even return that
phone call). And it
is like this every day. My oldest son recently got his license to
referee soccer games. Since he plays high school soccer on the week
nights, he had his weekends wide open to earn some dough. What better
way than to referee at a sport which he loves? What better way indeed?
Except for the bad news on this scenario is that the six soccer games he
is refereeing this weekend are Wayyyyyyy on the other side of town from
where his brothers are playing soccer themselves. The first game he has
is scheduled at 8 a.m.; the exact same time his youngest brother
is playing here in town. Since dad coaches the little guy, that leaves
me to transport my oldest to his games. Which, inevitably, led my little
guy to the teary conclusion that: "You don't love me; you aren't
going to be at my game." What the......? Don't love him???? Would I
do all of this otherwise? I found
out two days ago that before my son can referee; we need to find the ref
outfit which can, you guessed it, only be purchased at a remote shop at
a very far corner of the city- it is a little difficult to get to; but
of course, I should not have TOO much trouble. As I was writing down
THOSE directions, my youngest reminded me of the surprise baby shower
for his teacher, who is expecting twins this summer. "Don't forget,
Mommy, you HAVE to come." He pleaded. "And I need you to bring
LOTS of presents from me." I quickly scrawled, "Buy baby
gifts" on my long list of errands, none of which were centered
around ME. My
oldest again reminded me that he'd have to be taken to (again far off
remote corner of the city) to ref a tournament which started before
church on Sunday and ended sometime in the middle of Sunday school. As I
tried to wrap my mind around the logistics of the travel time to and
from the tournament and incorporating church into the picture, I felt a
vein in my forehead beginning to throb. My
husband looked at me, worried. "Are you having a stroke?" He
asked. He
always asks that when my right eye starts to droop. My right eye always starts to droop when I try to figure out how I am
supposed to get three children three different places at the exact same
time. "I
am fine." I say, cheerfully, imagining the day when the last boy is
off safely to college and the mini van has been traded in for a vehicle
more befitting a mother of three who has been honorably discharged from
driving duty- at least until the grandchildren come along, when, chances
are, (I am warned by folks in the know) you can be pulled, at any time,
back into active duty. I am
kind of looking forward to the empty nest syndrome. For me, it will
usher in a whole new era: a week which really is "wide open"
and an empty van, NO, MAKE THAT A CAR, which is truly my own to navigate
on adventures of my mind and spirit. And when I am driving around, with
a bad case of the empty car syndrome, I think I'll be smiling when I
pass by those soccer fields and never take my foot off the gas.
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