I find myself missing our loud house. I miss loud dance parties with a larger-than-life toddler on my hip. I miss kids spinning around in office chairs and barber chairs. I miss kids bringing roller blades into the house and doing laps. I miss CR requesting to be served dinner in his cardboard box in the garage. I miss saying ffffffck every time I stepped on a Lego or tripped on a matchbox car. I miss Sunday night laundry folding parties with loud and inappropriate music.
I feel like I am experiencing grief and beauty at the same time. We have raised kids to fly. We pour 18 years of everything we have into these humans. And then they fly, often away. And then our homes get quieter. And then in the beautiful silence, we celebrate having raised good kids who are ready and capable of flying.
For those of you still living in loud homes -- take more pictures, capture more memories, write down the things your kids are saying and breathe. I promise -- the quiet will come.
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