Empty Nest Syndrome vs. Snow Day

The kids love a good snow day.  As we live in upstate New York - they're guaranteed at least one, and more likely three, every year.  I grew up just outside of Chicago.  I can remember and appreciate a good snow day.  But, now, with five kids, four of whom still live at home, I can better appreciate how my mother's mouth would get all tight and thin-lipped whenever we had a snow day.  Karen and I were truly terrible kids, too.  We got into everything.  Every room we simply walked through looked like the aftermath of a tsunami - every single time.  Our mother has always been very house-proud, too.  I think we must have been a terrible trial for her.

I am not my mother, though.  Even growing up with a mid-western work ethic, on most days, I am not too house-proud.  Our home is clean - but lived in.  It is very obviously lived in.  The dishes are done, the clothes and people are clean, but, watch your step in the living room, there is invariably enough dinosaurs on the floor to fill the entire Cretaceous time period.

Currently, all four sprogs are home.  Word World is playing in the living room.  Mine Craft is running on the giant screen in the media room.  The Xbox One is in the middle of some live ops or another and some really annoying teenager music is eeking out of another room.

I have a headache.

I used to read and speak with people in complete sentences.  I used to go out to eat just for the sake of a new flavor.  Someone once told me that you lose 10% of your functioning brain capacity with every child.  That puts me at an operating level of 50%.  I'm lucky I don't need a bib.

I am going to knit and crochet a garland today to run around the ceiling of the craft room (previously known as the dining room) in an attempt to keep my cool.  Every fifteen minutes, or so, one or another of the sprogs wanders into the kitchen to make a snack.  I have to keep running into the kitchen to get them to put things away - in an attempt to avoid the tsunami.

I've been hearing about empty nest syndrome for most of my adult life.  I must admit, though I completely love and adore my children, I am ready to see if an empty nest is all it's cracked up to be.