I always wanted four kids so I wouldn’t be so devastated and heartbroken when the first one left the nest.
That’s not the way it worked for us we were part of the one and done club. So all of our “firsts” we’re also all of our “lasts”.
But my thinking is that regardless of how many children you have when that last one goes it’s got to be the worst. There’s really nobody else to mother our adult children but not really. We can give them advice, and sometimes they embrace it but other times they just roll her eyes and say whatever. Ha ha. (I know I did when I moved out).
I guess in many ways it’s kind of liberating and perhaps a relief to know that you launched them well and that they are on their own and thriving. Seeing them evolving into happy, healthy, productive independent adults is a great thing.
I don’t know about any of you, but there’s just something not right with walking down that long haul and seeing a dark bedroom.
Especially when it’s always been full of light and music.
My dirty rotten secret is sometimes I will walk into his room and stand in his closet and just smell his clothes.
How fucking pathetic is that?
Pacific Northwest Empty Nester 