Weekend Alone

What I Did On a Rare Weekend Home Alone:

1. Took care of Zeke while Ben was gone
2. Made food Steve and Ben don't like:
• Avocado Tuna Boats 
• Mediterranean Sweet Potatoes with Roasted Garbanzo Beans 
• Avocado Toast
3. Took Zeke to Lake Erie State Park to watch the sunset (me) and to sniff wildly (Zeke) 
4. Made a baby pumpkin pie and homemade whipped cream 
5. Kept checking the FHS Drama Club Broadway Trip itinerary to see what Ben and Steve (and the rest of the crew) were doing 
6. Read in bed late at night (with the light one - not on my Kindle)
7. Took Zeke to the farmers' market in the rain to get Macoun apples (because Macoun apples are worth walking in the rain with a rambunctious dog to get)
8. Made pumpkin spice French toast 
9. Sent a lot more snaps than usual
10. Made a homemade pumpkin spice latte with homemade pumpkin spice syrup (it's amazing how far one can of pumpkin goes!)
11. Watched Project Runway on DVR (and Pitch and Code Black and . . . )
12. Made a sample bat silhouette craft for my upcoming visit to Ben's class
13. Talked to Steve and Darton and texted with Em and Ben
14. Stayed up for ALL of Saturday Night Live (Thanks to host Lin-Manuel Miranda!)
15. Read in bed for an hour after I woke up this morning
16. Did schoolwork, schoolwork, schoolwork
17. Watched the Bills WIN - Go Bills!
18. Walked Zeke, walked Zeke, walked Zeke
19. Braced myself for the presidential debate
20. Joined Zeke in waiting and watching for our boys to come home

Too Quiet

Son #2 was home for the weekend, and son #1 was around the house on both Friday and Sunday.  There was commotion and conversation.  There was clutter and noise.  Between the NFL draft and the NBA playoffs, the television was on almost constantly.  And now the house is quiet, too quiet.  Usually, I'm the kind of person who enjoys silence and solitude. However, after my kids have been home then leave again, the house feels big and empty.  I have trouble settling back into the stillness.  It's the end of the semester, and I have a mountain of work to do, so when I get home this afternoon, I'll probably be able to step back into my new life and appreciate the silence.  But for now, I'm missing my kids.

Just Visiting

I went to college in the town where I grew up.  For five of the first six semesters, I lived at home to save money.  Then during the summer before my senior year, I married my college sweetheart.  We rented a little apartment just up the street from my parents’ house, and my new husband found work and patiently waited for me to complete my senior year.  A few months after graduation, we moved to New Hampshire.  From then on, whenever we came back home, we were just visiting.  My parents’ home was no longer my home.   I didn’t think too much about it at the time, but now that the shoe is on the other foot, I’ve been thinking about it a lot, especially with summer approaching.  As those of you with college-age kids know, summer means you get your kids back for a while.  But for the first time ever, we won’t have a full house this summer; in fact, we’ll be down to just one sweet baby bird.  After college, my oldest son moved back home temporarily.  So we got to have him around for a couple of extra summers.  But last August he moved to an apartment.  Although he lives nearby and often stops by for dinner, it’s not the same.  He doesn’t live here anymore; when he stops by, he’s just visiting.  My second son graduated from college last May.  He came back here after graduation and spent the summer lifeguarding.  He lived in an apartment down the street with his friends, but he was in and out of the house all summer long, especially at dinnertime!  Last fall he moved back to Rochester, but he’s no longer a college boy.  He has a real job now and rents a house with some friends.  And this year when the semester ends, he won't be coming home for the summer.  When he comes home, as he did this weekend, he still spreads his stuff out all over his old room and naps on the living room couch, but it’s slowly dawning on me that his real life and his real home are somewhere else.  I know in my head this is the way it is supposed to be, but I’m having trouble convincing my heart.  All I can do is the same thing my parents did: tell my grown-up kids they are missed and loved and make our home a place they like to visit.