A Treadmill

I guess it’s settling in now.

The treadmill that our empty nesting suddenly feels like. The idea that when your children leave home and things calm down and get slower, perhaps even easier, seems almost laughable in the silence here. It's quieter, but I’m still trying to keep up with college schedules and events, being okay with not hearing from older children off spreading their wings, doctor appointments turning into specialist appointments, school and therapy, all while trying to drink enough water and eat more protein.

I spiral. Cry. Then remember life is good.

Question myself. Get sad. Pick up the pieces and get back on the horse.

It’s a strange time.

I didn’t know what this would look like, but most days it feels like walking on a treadmill. Like this is just how it will be for a while. Being exhausted from going everywhere but somehow feeling like I’m going nowhere. Or is that my menopausal brain just trying to get some main-character energy? 😂

Now, before that all sounds like it’s bad — there’s a strange comfort in the routine. The routine that special-needs parenting holds. A lot of the same, while simultaneously celebrating the smallest of new things.

Which brings me to this week.

Forever challenging your independence on a lazy Saturday morning, I asked you to go get pants and a shirt on so we could go to the store. You walked off to your room, only to return wearing a different color of the same “fluffy jammies” as we call them. I reiterated: pants and a shirt. You returned asking for help with your shirt, but most definitely dressed correctly.

Great job. ❤️

Fully anticipating that I’d walk into your room to see your clothes scattered all over the floor, I was pleasantly surprised. Not only were they NOT on the floor, but you had attempted to fold them and put them away. Honestly not something I even thought to ask you to do - you just did it. (Side note: you have about seven pairs of “fluffy jammies” that just get folded and stacked on your dresser because they don’t fit anywhere else and they are your absolute favorite. 😂 The red colored Jammies are the ones you put away)

Truthfully, nobody prepares you for this time of life.

And how could they? There’s no truly accurate portrayal of anyone’s family. Especially when some of the baby birds fly the nest while others may take longer — or may not fly at all.

It’s a treadmill.

But maybe being on a treadmill isn’t so bad.

Maybe it gives you an even better opportunity to accomplish something while noticing the greatness happening all around you.

Maybe the goal isn’t always to get somewhere. Maybe sometimes it’s simply to keep moving — and to remember to look around while you do.

Addie, I'm forever proud of you baby girl.

Love you always.

Mom