Too Quiet

I heard the marching band practicing the other night when I was out in the yard. We live about a mile from the high school, so all that wafts our way is the sound of drums and, occasionally, some brass. It’s always a welcome sound – marching season starting back up. It reminds me of much less quiet times, when my kids were still home and in marching band, and our house was a stop-over after practice, and before games, and after games, and well, a lot of other times, too.

There for years, there was never any quiet in our house. The noise was constant; the activity was never ending; there was always something going on. At the time, I sometimes got tired of it. I used to yearn for some quiet time alone, even as I tried to imagine what such a thing would be like. Now, quiet time is pretty much all we have here…I miss having kids at home.

I always wanted to have a bunch of kids – such a big family that when the oldest ones were getting married, the littlest ones might just be starting school. Being a mom has always been my favorite job, and I never wanted it to end. (Not that grown children don’t benefit from a little mothering, too - it’s just not the same as having dirty little hands to hold and sweaty little heads to nuzzle…)

But economic reality stopped our family at two – a boy and a girl, ages 27 and 25 now. Our kids are close together in age – 13 months apart – so they were always in a collective sort of a stage. They potty trained at nearly same time, gave up car seats at nearly the same time, went to school one year then the next, and on and on it went, until they both needed cars at the same time, went off to college within a year of each other, and more recently, got married – both of them - within two years.

It’s been a whirlwind of activities, rites of passage, sleep-overs, school trips, plays, band and soccer, clubs, birthdays, holidays, having friends over, going off to college, coming home from college, going off to college again, then planning and executing two weddings – one held right here, at our home. Because they were only a year apart in school, my kids always had a large group of the same friends, which meant our house was always full, our fridge was often empty, and it was impossible to buy enough toilet paper or, in later years, keep enough coffee made.

I remember melting down in the car several times during the busiest of those years, while waiting for one or the other of my offspring to get out of yet another band or sports practice, school club or play practice, or lesson of some type. Those activities all had a way of running late, which meant I was too often late to pick up the other child and take him/her wherever he/she needed to be, which only added to the stress.

I remember wondering, during those melted-down times, how much longer I could handle working full-time, while being a decent parent who keeps the house relatively clean and makes sure there’s some food in the pantry, as well as providing 24:7 hospitality and shuttle service. (Back then, Mr. Clark traveled all the time, so in terms of on-site parenting, I was on my own…)

And, then, all at once, it ended.
Both kids grew up, got lives, and moved away.

Now, pretty much all I have is quiet time, and it’s not as precious, interesting and rewarding as I thought it would be.

The story isn’t as bleak as I have, perhaps, made it sound. I am happy and proud of my kids. They have jobs, and benefits, and spouses whom I love dearly. They both have homes that feel warm, welcoming and full of energy and love. Because they stayed close – one in Atlanta, the other in Athens – I get to see them often, and they still, at least on occasion, hang out with the same group of friends who used to cover our TV room floor on a sleep-over night.

I don’t have grandchildren yet, and I am in no hurry, since I have two “grand-dogs” who I see, dog sit, and spoil regularly. We’ve already established “what happens at Pinkie’s (my grandma name) stays at Pinkie’s,” so when the grandbabies arrive, there won’t be any surprises with regard to the amount of affection, treats, noise and happy chaos that will most certainly occur.

I believe things happen for a reason, and things work out the way they’re supposed to, so even though it’s often too quiet and sometimes lonely, it’s okay that I only had two children. It’s okay that both of them grew up and left at the same time. It’s okay that neither of them are in any hurry to have kids.

And, it’s okay that I have all this long yearned for quiet time…thankfully broken up at times, by the sound of a marching band practicing. I enjoy the flood of happy loud memories that it brings.