It’s quiet here in the Riley house. We’ve been kid free for seven days. We should have been kid free months ago. Our adult daughter moved out of the house one Saturday in late July. That Tuesday, however, our son moved back in.
Later that week, I asked my husband how the time without kids was for him. He said he would have enjoyed it more had he known it was only going to be three days. I know exactly what he meant. On Monday, I’d realized that it felt a little odd; things seemed too quiet. But believe me, I would have adjusted.
So this summer has been busy; an unemployed son, separated from his wife, their two girls, my precious grandchildren here from Friday night to Sunday night. He looked after them, he really did, but it was still exhausting for us, just filling in.
I loved having them though. My favorite part was the reading: Finally Alyssa, who’s seven, relented and let me read to her. It turns out it wasn’t personal. She only likes to be read to at bedtime. We read a couple of Beverly Clearys and then started on Little House in the Big Woods and she loved them. And the baby, Caitlyn, 18 months now, ripe for Goodnight Moon. The second week, we started in with Green Eggs and Ham (like always, Alyssa told me, her grin revealing her big half grown adult front teeth.)
It’s been a blur: there have been horses, and movies, and long baths with rubber duckies, and a computer game where you design Barbie fashions that I think I liked more than Alyssa did. And there have been standing behind a toddler as she wobbled up the stairs, warm bodies cuddling on rocking chairs, and crazy dancing, and blocking fat little baby hands reaching for fistfuls of dog fur. My husband put them to work, filling bird feeders, cleaning out the pond (Caitlyn swimming in the muck, much to his delight), lots of cooking.
And there’s also been an adult son; a boy who settled down way too soon with the sort of girl a boy might pick at the age of 19, and ever since he has seemed to me sad and older than his years. We had a chance to reconnect, which felt good. And it may be partly wishful thinking on my part, but it seeemed as if he relaxed a little for once; like he enjoyed the orderliness. As if he reconnected with himself.
In the midst of all this our daughter’s rented condo flooded—a water heater in the unit above her’s broke; the owner wasn’t home, and it was some mess, though my daughter enjoyed the firemen. She stayed with friends for a time, but wound up here for about a week, even brought her friend Ana, who was visiting from San Luis Obispo for a few days.
Then our son did what I figured he’d do, and went home to his family on last Monday. Something tells me he’ll be back.
In the meantime, our daughter called Saturday night in severe pain. Someone rear ended her car two weeks ago, and her back is finally reacting. We would have gone to the ER with her, but she toughed it out. The grandaughters were here on Saturday, and we did regular grandparent stuff: made lots of snacks, watched Sponge Bob. Alyssa wouldn’t let me read to her; I guess that’s a sign things are back to normal. My daughter stopped by today and we went to see a movie I wasn’t dying to see: Nick and Nora’s Infinite Playlist. I do not recommend it. My daughter didn’t like it either, so it wasn’t just that it skewed too young for me. Likeable characters, but no plot and even less humor.
Luckily I’m not sitting here waiting for another shoe to drop, even though I know it will. It’s inevitable in this day and age, with two adult children in their 20s, one with a wobbly marriage, in this economy. In the meantime, I’m going to hang out with my husband. We’re practicing our dog training lessons, and it’s going well. I want to read a few books that I haven’t been able to get to, Bel Cante is at the top of my list. Catch up on my New Yorkers.
This quiet though is going to take some getting used to.
Later that week, I asked my husband how the time without kids was for him. He said he would have enjoyed it more had he known it was only going to be three days. I know exactly what he meant. On Monday, I’d realized that it felt a little odd; things seemed too quiet. But believe me, I would have adjusted.
So this summer has been busy; an unemployed son, separated from his wife, their two girls, my precious grandchildren here from Friday night to Sunday night. He looked after them, he really did, but it was still exhausting for us, just filling in.
I loved having them though. My favorite part was the reading: Finally Alyssa, who’s seven, relented and let me read to her. It turns out it wasn’t personal. She only likes to be read to at bedtime. We read a couple of Beverly Clearys and then started on Little House in the Big Woods and she loved them. And the baby, Caitlyn, 18 months now, ripe for Goodnight Moon. The second week, we started in with Green Eggs and Ham (like always, Alyssa told me, her grin revealing her big half grown adult front teeth.)
It’s been a blur: there have been horses, and movies, and long baths with rubber duckies, and a computer game where you design Barbie fashions that I think I liked more than Alyssa did. And there have been standing behind a toddler as she wobbled up the stairs, warm bodies cuddling on rocking chairs, and crazy dancing, and blocking fat little baby hands reaching for fistfuls of dog fur. My husband put them to work, filling bird feeders, cleaning out the pond (Caitlyn swimming in the muck, much to his delight), lots of cooking.
And there’s also been an adult son; a boy who settled down way too soon with the sort of girl a boy might pick at the age of 19, and ever since he has seemed to me sad and older than his years. We had a chance to reconnect, which felt good. And it may be partly wishful thinking on my part, but it seeemed as if he relaxed a little for once; like he enjoyed the orderliness. As if he reconnected with himself.
In the midst of all this our daughter’s rented condo flooded—a water heater in the unit above her’s broke; the owner wasn’t home, and it was some mess, though my daughter enjoyed the firemen. She stayed with friends for a time, but wound up here for about a week, even brought her friend Ana, who was visiting from San Luis Obispo for a few days.
Then our son did what I figured he’d do, and went home to his family on last Monday. Something tells me he’ll be back.
In the meantime, our daughter called Saturday night in severe pain. Someone rear ended her car two weeks ago, and her back is finally reacting. We would have gone to the ER with her, but she toughed it out. The grandaughters were here on Saturday, and we did regular grandparent stuff: made lots of snacks, watched Sponge Bob. Alyssa wouldn’t let me read to her; I guess that’s a sign things are back to normal. My daughter stopped by today and we went to see a movie I wasn’t dying to see: Nick and Nora’s Infinite Playlist. I do not recommend it. My daughter didn’t like it either, so it wasn’t just that it skewed too young for me. Likeable characters, but no plot and even less humor.
Luckily I’m not sitting here waiting for another shoe to drop, even though I know it will. It’s inevitable in this day and age, with two adult children in their 20s, one with a wobbly marriage, in this economy. In the meantime, I’m going to hang out with my husband. We’re practicing our dog training lessons, and it’s going well. I want to read a few books that I haven’t been able to get to, Bel Cante is at the top of my list. Catch up on my New Yorkers.
This quiet though is going to take some getting used to.
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