The empty nest will be the death of me.

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How do moms survive the emptying of the nest? Seriously, just the idea makes me feel like somebody shoved a rusty ice cream scooper down my throat and scraped out my guts.
“How do you feel about me moving out?” my youngest daughter asked us the other day. “It’s probably going to be soon.” she announced.
I already had one daughter go away to college and that was excruciating enough, but for some reason, this move feels more permanent. And my son says he can’t wait to move to a colder state one day. I think I might just die.
Watching kids grow and move on in life is a part of raising children, but why does it have to hurt so bad? Shouldn’t I be happy I’ve raised them to be independent and self-sufficient? I should be thrilled, they say. Well it’s not happening. What will I do with myself?
Deep inside I’m happy knowing they’ll be all right, but who’ll go with me on a whim to Target, or on a random Starbucks run? Who’ll go to girly movies with me and watch trash TV with me? I’m a selfish, selfish woman.
But wait…I do have a very hot husband who likes to hang out. Hmmm…
Back to the snort-crying jag I had the other day. I didn’t see it coming. Snot, tears, the whole nine yards.. And while I was melting down, my husband began talking to her about the ins and outs of deposits, credit checks, and utility bills. About how proud he was of her. When did this man become the voice of reason? About the time he saw that she might cry. Shame on me.
After I cried myself to sleep and had a chance to reboot my brain, I was able to see things more clearly the next morning. She’s nearly twenty, responsible, gainfully employed, and level headed. Calm the heck down. She’ll be fine and so will I. I’ll just miss her being here all the time, that’s all. But that’s life right? It seems I have a bit of my own growing up to do.

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