The Nest

Door

I feel bad that I don’t feel bad.

Our last kiddo technically moved out of the house this past weekend.  Yes, Beth still lives in the apartment, but she isn’t in the house so we are still calling ourselves empty nesters.  Several conversations have transpired this week with people who have young “adult” children and my part always seems to sound down right shitty.  They say things like “I miss not having them around” and “I will always let mine come back home”.  I say things like “we’re learning how to have fun without kids around”, “ours have always known that our front door is not a revolving one” and “we’re thinking of turning Emily’s room into a lounge with a bar”.  I get looks like I just told them that we like to watch dog fights while snorting meth and snatching canes from elderly people.

Why am I the bad guy for wanting my “adult” children to take care of themselves and for wanting a life AFTER the kid raising years are over?  Am I supposed to be sitting at home looking through photo albums and calling them every five minutes to make sure they remembered to brush their teeth?

Well fuck that!  I’m not!

I have big plans for the rest of my life and I’m not going to feel bad about it … and I’m going to work on not feeling bad for not feeling bad about it.

My life isn’t over just because our kids are moved out of the house.  MY life is just beginning.

It’s a good feeling to know that their decisions now have their consequences and even though we will always worry in some way about our kids, we also know that we have done the best we could and they will figure it out.

 

 


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