Two more months living with my three sons

son 1, son 2, son 3

The conversations start similarly- someone I haven’t seen in awhile asks about my family, and I respond that my three boys are all busy and well and living at home with us at least until the end of August.

Then I smile and roll my eyes as if this is such an irritating circumstance. They are grown. The nest should be empty.

It’s easy to fall into this trap and I do it repeatedly, but it’s not honest.

The truth is that this may be the last two months with all my kids in the house. It’s even a bonus round, since the older two have moved out, then back in, as they further their educations.

But come September my youngest will go away to school, and the middle one plans to move closer to his job in New York City. In two years the oldest will complete his JD and take permanent flight as well. So this is it. Two more months.

Two more months cooking for five (or six or seven if their girlfriends or friends come by.) Two more months of dinner conversations, constant clutter, unending dishwasher and laundry running, bins full of empty beer bottles and evenings of watching ballgames and movies together. Not every night, but enough nights.

Just ignore my eye rolls and exasperated sighs. They’re bad habits, and lies.