Oh the empty nest! My nest is technically empty but always here for my birds to return to. It’s different than what you’re experiencing but an emptiness too. Your babies will be able to sleep. We let ours in whenever they needed to be with us and suddenly one day…they didn’t. Love you, dear cousin.
It's true. Anxiety is pretty much always a poor reason for doing anything, and I am embarking on a journey to figure out what bedtime looks like without it. Here goes.
Also, your empty nest! I was definitely thinking about that one, too. It has felt strangely around the corner ever since I was pregnant with Lucy. I don't think kids actually accelerate the passing of time, but the make it a lot more obvious.
During this final stage of decluttering and packing, I've been thinking a lot about Marie Kondo's practice of saying thank you to possessions as you let them go. For most of my life, I would have said that they're lifeless things and the idea of talking to or, even stronger, honoring your belongings wouldn't make sense. At this point, though, ignoring possessions and treating them as purely disposable / replaceable makes even less sense to me.
That reminds me of Lucy, another time I was crying this week, about leaving the house. "Mom, it's okay, the house can't feel it. It doesn't have a heart." Which is a strange thing, coming from her -- it's like she was exploring the opposite end of the spectrum from her normal high sensitivity to the hearts of things.
Oh the empty nest! My nest is technically empty but always here for my birds to return to. It’s different than what you’re experiencing but an emptiness too. Your babies will be able to sleep. We let ours in whenever they needed to be with us and suddenly one day…they didn’t. Love you, dear cousin.
It's true. Anxiety is pretty much always a poor reason for doing anything, and I am embarking on a journey to figure out what bedtime looks like without it. Here goes.
Also, your empty nest! I was definitely thinking about that one, too. It has felt strangely around the corner ever since I was pregnant with Lucy. I don't think kids actually accelerate the passing of time, but the make it a lot more obvious.
During this final stage of decluttering and packing, I've been thinking a lot about Marie Kondo's practice of saying thank you to possessions as you let them go. For most of my life, I would have said that they're lifeless things and the idea of talking to or, even stronger, honoring your belongings wouldn't make sense. At this point, though, ignoring possessions and treating them as purely disposable / replaceable makes even less sense to me.
That reminds me of Lucy, another time I was crying this week, about leaving the house. "Mom, it's okay, the house can't feel it. It doesn't have a heart." Which is a strange thing, coming from her -- it's like she was exploring the opposite end of the spectrum from her normal high sensitivity to the hearts of things.