Home Alone.... almost!

Paul is stirring down in the basement guest bedroom. We've pretty much dismantled his upstairs room- this may have been a good transition for a young man who doesn't like any change.  He leaves for his adventure to Seattle in a few hours and I will be without a biological child under my roof for the first time in 30 years. Wow- just writing that makes me feel old but the time has sped by.  And God has provided Kate and Stephanie to share the house this year so I'm really not Home Alone.

But as I sit here and contemplate 30 years of hands-on mothering -  I remember jaundice, colic, sleepless nights, lots of diapers-starting with cloth ones!  I remember sweet baby smells, sippy cups, walking a toddler up and down the aisles of a 747  flying across the Pacific.  I remember seeing my baby become a "big boy" as the next baby arrived and soon two little boys wrestling with their dad. I remember the dream of holding a baby wrapped in pink and the arrival of a precious daughter. I remember the complete confusion of an emergency cesarean and the bliss of yet another sweet baby on my chest.

I remember finger painting and lots of play dough. Play dates in the park and walks around the block pulling a little red wagon.  And books-  reading out loud for hours. Little House on the Prairie, Anne of Green Gables, the Chronicles of Narnia, the Redwall series with mole speech. And a hundred books I thought I'd never forget and now can't recall the titles. But I remember the press of a small body against me in the chair, of big eyes watching me during the suspense. I remember reading with such joy and gratitude.

I remember juggling life and overseas moves, teaching, standardized tests and curriculum fairs.  A small boy who refused to do school but stood in the school room table and built Lego creations and answered his brother's math questions.  Taking dictation for stories on an Apple that printed on a dot matrix printer with perforated paper. Dissecting anything we could find.  Going to the beach and calling it marine biology. Struggling with one who couldn't read and rejoicing when we had successs. Wondering if I was doing anything right and knowing that I wouldn't really know the results of my efforts for years .

I remember driving toddlers across the United States in a VW Vanagon and years later, taking teens in a conversion van.  I remember driving up the East Coast in a VW hippie bus and crossing the Alps and wandering through Europe in a Dodge Caravan.  I remember teaching teens to drive stick in a small sports car and park an enormous conversion van.

I remember the well baby check ups and shots, the boo boos of toddlers, bamboo spears and ER visits.  I remember frightening hours of asthma episodes and breathing treatments, surgeries and stitches.  The wails of babies, the whines of toddlers, the shouts of the rowdy preteen years, the tears of teens.

I remember, piano recitals, art lessons, and field trips. Ah, the field trips- Japanese WWII sites and beaches, the Santa Fe trail and wagon ruts in the Missouri River, Roman ruins and Pompei.  Factory tours for olive oil, pasta,  cheese and wine.  More churches than necessary and fewer art museums than I wanted. The Smithsonian and opera at the Kennedy Center.

I remember soccer practice and mandarin oranges for snacks. I remember basketball, ballet, gymnastics and archery. I remember rabbit shows and long drives with books on tape.  I remember cross country seasons and buying really expensive shoes, often. I remember watching them run by, breathless and determined,  and aching to give them my strength.  I remember graduations and the search for the perfect college. The first trip to college and driving home without them.

But mostly I remember the words, the conversations.  The snuggling in bunkbeds to end the day and the profound questions late at night. The funny sayings that the baby contributed to lunch and the deep discussions around a big round oak table. The thank yous and the hugs.  The prayers and the "I'm sorry"s.  The long conversations in the car where you don't have to make eye contact, you just share from your heart.  I remember conversations late at night where I had to rely more on the Holy Spirit than my own wits because my wits were too sleepy.

So.... the last child leaves. Paul's off on his grand adventure.  His room is almost empty. His desk is almost clean. His presence may have left the house but he and Scott and Drew and Abby will always have a place in my heart where they are still my little people and I can safely tuck them into bed each night and kiss away any boo boos.  Now our family has joyfully expanded to include Lindsay and Steve as part of "the kids".  And my heart is comforted to know that the same God who loves me and has been so amazing in His care will keep and guide and watch over and provide for the little peeps as they leave my nest.   The world with all it's joys and sorrows awaits them and a new season awaits me. Let the adventure begin.