The Best Times Of Your Life

Many years ago when my children were young, several people said to me, “These are the best times of your life.” I thought, “What’s wrong with you people? I never have any freedom, I am completely tied down and I meet myself coming around the corner running the car pools and various errands. The focal point for decorating the family room is either a play pen, Barbie’s house or Fisher Price’s family.” I really thought these people must be nuts.

I even did an independent survey and began asking the older folks that I knew, “What was the best time of your life?” Overwhelmingly, the answer was, “when my children were young.”

I didn’t understand. This couldn’t be.

As they grew older, things seemed to get worse. The old saying, “As they get bigger, the problems get bigger.” It appeared to be accurate to me.

There was constantly a battle with my older daughter over the unsanitary conditions in her room. I feared that the Health Department would barge in any day, find unidentifiable bacteria growing there and condemn the whole place. My husband threatened to set off a small explosive in there and blow it away from the rest of the house. To this day, my daughter declares that she was grounded throughout her high school years because her room was such a mess.

My younger daughter’s imagination was so creative that there was constantly a stage show performance or TV series under production in our family room. I vividly remember her standing on the ottoman, using a jump rope for a microphone, and performing as a starring actress or singer. Of course, she was between us and the television. There was no chance we could miss any of the stage shows.

As she got older, the production series became Cagney and Lacey. Does anybody remember that? She and her best friend remade those productions every week. Of course, we had to watch.

The bickering, as sisters will do, seemed non-stop. Little sister wanted to do everything big sister did. Big sister would have no part of it. I can still hear it, “Mom, tell her she can’t follow us. And keep her out of my room.”

These couldn’t possibly be the best times of my life. These people are just jerking me around.

I remember the brigades of young people who would trounce in and drain every ounce of anything consumable in the place. The cupboards and the refrigerator had to be restocked daily. Sometimes even more often than that.

Cheerleaders were always cheering, dancers were always dancing, bouncers were always bouncing on the trampoline and lots of boys were always hanging out to watch. There was never a quiet, peaceful moment.

Through the college years, things were somewhat calmer, except for weekends. Laundry baskets appeared from nowhere, with dirty clothes from the entire dorm floor, and more food disappeared than ever before. Much of it made its way back to the dorm to feed the masses. And, of course, friends were home on weekends too and they didn’t forget how to get to our house.

I can still get teary eyed thinking about how painful it was for my husband when our first daughter went away to college. Her room was right next to the kitchen. He couldn’t walk down the hall without seeing it. He cleaned her room to a pristine condition. For days he couldn’t walk by without shedding tears. After a few days of this, he threw clothes all around, put towels all over the floor and made a real mess. Then he said, he felt like she was still there. The messy room was a comfort for him.

But one day reality hit. While walking through their rooms, I recalled my voice yelling for them to “grow up” as I had done so many times before. This time the silence echoed back, “WE DID.” They were gone. The quiet of the house was deafening and nothing was ever the same.

Who cares about a clean house and quiet in the air? I thought I did, but most of us would change that in a flash to the chaos of having a house full.

I reminisce about those days frequently. We have the same phone number that we’ve had for 43 years. I won’t let it go. Occasionally, some of these old friends, will call out of the blue, just to check in. I like that connection and wouldn’t want them not to be able to find us.

Our children are a precious gift from Heaven. The joy they bring is indescribable. Our task is to love them, teach them and let them fly away to their own nests. But my oh my, how we miss them when they’re gone.

I’m a big girl. I can admit my mistakes. I was wrong. For those of you who are still there. Trust Me, these truly are the best times of your life.