“Empty Nest Syndrome.” This term seems to elude my mind. HOW can you not be ecstatic when the final
fledgling leaves the nest?
One of my absolute BEST memories
was the first time I got to go to the grocery store myself. No children.
Thing 1 finally turned 12, which meant he was legally able to “baby sit”
his little brothers. It didn’t guarantee
their safety, but it did safeguard my liability. Was I worried? Yes.
Did I expect to come home to a house that was burned to cinders? Yes.
Did I know my kids were safe?
YES, pretty much – duct tape and super glue had been hidden well before
I left. As for fire, we’d practiced fire
drills from time outta mind, but to leave them alone for 30 minutes (I –did-
power-shop, throw basics in the buggy ‘n get out of there), it was still a
heady feeling. AND I got to leave the
grocery store without approximately $200 worth of stuff I had no intention of
buying in the first place. No tag-teaming
Mama on that trip!
We branched out from there.
There were a couple times I delved
into “daycare,” but it simply wasn’t worth it.
The first was a stay-at-home relative (to my children) that volunteered,
at a fee, to watch them. Within a month
I got the call that they were “in the ditch throwing rocks at cars” going down
the road, and I was responsible for a windshield. I was paying for WHAT?!? When I was with them I didn’t always know
what they were doing, but I certainly knew what they were –not- doing. Windshield paid for (cash from me, hard labor
from the Thing responsible), and that particular babysitter canned.
Then came the time I took a
part-time job in Conyers. It really was
a fun job. I LOVED it! If you’ve never worked for a court reporting
firm, you ought to try it. You get
–paid- to be entertained! Even with the
things I saw and heard in a court room working for a law firm couldn’t compare
to this. I got to read –all- the
transcripts that I had to produce and some of them were hilarious! That’s where I learned the rule: Think twice, speak once. Not that it stuck, but I did get to see the
results of not adhering to it.
But then there came the fateful
call that ended a career I loved. It
was a small office, and the boss could only hear my side of the conversation
when one of my children called, but she laughed so hard I thought I was going
to have to call 911 for her.
The first thing I heard was “Mama,
where’s the fire extinguisher?” My mind
went into panic mode, but the first thing I said was “under the sink,” then
asked “what’s on fire?” That’s when the
boss damn near fell off her chair.
The answer I received was “wait a
minute.” Now –I’m- saying “call 911.”
Turned out Thing 4, in his infinite
wisdom, decided he wanted to make popcorn – on the stove. That was COMPLETELY off limits when I wasn’t
home, but he did it anyway, without oil or the pot lid. The only things that got burned was one of my
favorite pots (I still have it, after glass-beading the burnt popcorn off the
bottom), the ceiling above the stove was a couple shades darker
forevermore, and the bench on the back
porch where he set the pot to keep from burning the house down had a permanent
black ring.
I’m sure there are more tales
coming, but that’s all I can handle for one sit-down. Call it the rip-tide of memories. They can carry me out, but swimming back to
shore is a beast.
I equate kids to puppies. They’re awfully cute, but they can sure tear
some shit up. And then they grow up and
tear up bigger shit. At least they have
to pay for it themselves now.
