My daughters are cool and fun and happy and nice and polite. I love hanging out with them. I miss them not living at home. It wasn’t always like this, and maybe if they did move back, I’d be reminded of all the stuff they did that irritated me. Such as . . . Kayla’s empty milk cups all over the house. Messes in the sink from Pasta Alfredo. Nights awake waiting up for them to come home. Dirty laundry. Nobody picking up the dog poop. Boys coming over that I was like, “You’ve got to be kidding me, right?” Thankfully those boys are out of the picture. Messy bedrooms. Their bathroom with the hair clogging the shower drain. Someone always yacking on the phone or on my computer when I needed it. Blankets on the living room sofa. My TV clicker missing–usually stuffed in the sofa cushions and I couldn’t find it.
But for all that little things, I miss them being in bed at night, and the three of us knowing we were all home safe and snug. The mornings when I’d make pancakes and Molly the beagle would beg for syrup. The whir of blow dryers drying all that long hair. The thump of feet running down the steps dashing off to school. Our “girls nights” when we’d lay in one bed and talk about stuff and laugh. Good times . . . I am so glad I have my memories.
This is my girls today. Still silly. Still sweet. Still dear friends who I adore.
