The house is quiet these days.
The dishwasher can run every three days.
After four days, only one laundry basket is full.
Yes, Greg and I are getting our annual glimpse of the empty nest. We’re enjoying quiet nights in the living room with no shouting from upstairs — “It’s my turn to play. You’ve been on the Playstation all day.”
Better yet, there are no crashes as one Larson boy tackles another to take away the controller.
During our empty nest week, Greg and I found ourselves back in the kitchen together. When we were first married, we often crowded into our small apartment kitchen to cook together. We had one car and Greg was working in a bookstore next to a grocery store. Every night, I’d get off work, drive to the shopping center and browse through books until he was ready to leave.
Then we’d head to the Giant store to grab something for dinner. Of course, one necessary ingredient or two stretched quickly to 10. When we were done, we’d drive home and head to the kitchen, talking over our day as we cooked.
These days, whoever gets home first usually has dinner started — an important step when activities are on the calendar. Like most marrieds with children, much of our talking seems to revolve around coordinating schedules — which son needs to be where when and whose responsibility it is to get him there.
But Greg and I have decided that, once our nest is truly empty, we’ll probably turn into workaholics. Greg has always worked until 6 p.m. before heading home. There’s so much that can be done in that hour after everyone leaves.
For me, the quiet time is in the mornings. If I’m not in the newsroom at least an hour before anyone else, it throws off the entire rhythm of my day. But when there’s no reason to race out the door by a certain time, it’s easy to get caught up in a project and keep going... and going... and going.
I suspect we’ll have even more to coordinate on our schedules when those days arrive. If nothing else, we’ll need to remember that, no matter how involved we get in our work, family — even if it’s just the two of us — takes priority.