Children Get Older, I'm Getting Older Too

Once upon a time ago I  was a good housekeeper, wife, and mother.  I was very proud of being those three things and took my job seriously.

I had an organized linen closet, a sock drawer (with actual matching socks for all five children).  Dishes were always done, and dinner was on the table every night at 6:00pm.

I even regularly cleaned out the mini van.  Yes I said Mini Van.

My husband usually woke up before me and would wake me up by bringing me coffee in bed.  After my 3 mile run, I would return home and make breakfast for all the children prior to getting them ready for school.

All that while nursing a newborn.

Life was a fairytale.  The toothfairy existed and never fell asleep before the child thus missing the window of opportunity to fly in.  Santa Claus came like clockwork, and even the Easter Bunny left paw prints that suspiciously looked like one of my cats had been forced to walk across the table in flour.

I made playdough at home.  Not because we could not afford it, but rather it was more fun to make with the children and they seemed to take pride in their creations.  The Christmas tree to this day has homemade playdough ornaments.

Like a conveyor belt pieces of bread were laid out with snacks and juice boxes as we made lunches everynight so they would be ready in the morning.  The children were bathed, clothes picked out  and shoes with backpacks were placed by the front door.

I would tuck the children in to bed and either read to them or tell them a story using different accents.  Every night ended with kisses all around and a multitude of "I love you" being said to their soft faces.

For the children that were still in preschool, there was a regular nap time, and pre arrannged play dates at parks, or coffee houses with large outdoor spaces so they could run around.

These were the "Playdough Years".

Now, my sink is broken on one side, you can shower upstairs, but have to use the toilet downstairs, My linen closet has been replaced with various bottles of hair color, curlers, and random micelaneous items thatt get put in there when the table is cleaned off.

If I am cleaning my house my first rule is to turn on music, (most likely a Broadway Musical) and take my top off.  Yes I clean in my bra.  I could wear an apron, but that is just one more thing I would have to wash, and a bra is much simpler. That and I do not always know where my apron is at any given moment.

Now the children no longer ask "What;s for dinner?" but instead ask, "Are we having dinner?"  If the answer is yes, then dinner will be on the table anywhere between 7 and 10 pm.  It would depend on how late I am working, and which child has which rehersal, practice, or job to be at.

My children do not come to me with Boo Boo's that I can kiss away.  Instead they come to me with worries about college applications, fears of never having a boyfriend, confessions of drinking too much at a party, or being caught smoking pot.

Now my children ask for rides, money, unconditional love, and advice.  Usually I am able to offer at least two of these requests, and always I am able to offer one.

Our life is vastly different than it once was.  Is it worse?  Better?  Or simply different?

I still love them.  I still clean without a top on (when I clean),  I am still here to tell them stories.  Only now we tell storied about when they were young.  Usually we sit on my bed and go in to fits of laughter of their childhood follies.

They have gone from sharing toys to sharing clothes, and talking about celebrity crushes.

I am missing out on more of their lives now as I have to be all things.  I can not just be the mom, housekeeper and wife.

My children have grown, and I have been forced to change and grow as well.  I am no longer the parent that knows every teacher's name, or even what classes they are all taking.  I no longer sit and try to sillicit funds for the PTA, or sew patches on to vests and stand by while they sell cookies or wrapping paper.

I drive them to the mall when I have been worn down with begging, and yell after them, "Do you have your phone?"

Is life worse than it once was?  In some ways yes.  As my children lack their father and feel their absence as much as I do.  We work around broken sinks, slow plumbing, doors that don't always close all the way, and having one car.

I can not say that we are all worse off as a unit.  Our trials have brought us closer and I regularly witness other children who are not as close to their parents as my children are to me

The laundry may pile up to Guiness levels, but I am sought out for hugs, love, and advice.

One thing you will always hear in my falling down house filled with dirty dishes is laughter.  Through it all my children have grown thick skins, and an amazing ability to be able to laugh through adversity.

It is common to hear, "Do you know where a towel is?" once upon a time ago I could have replied, "In the linen closet."  Now I am more likely to say, 'Not a clue, check your sisters room, but don't tell her I said so."

I no longer need to arrange play dates, which has freed up my time to arrange my own play dates.  I have discovered that it is okay for me to have a life outside of work, outside of my house, and even outside of my comfort zone.

One day my  house will be quiet.  I will be alone, and I imagine I will have matching white towels that are folded neatly in a linen closet.  I may have to get up and make my own coffee, but it will still taste as sweet.

I look forward to leaving this house behind, and ending yet another chapter.

The actual house may be falling apart, but the family unit is intact.