When I was in college, a million years ago, I remember my mother telling me how she worried less about me in college than when I came home on visits. I would smile, thinking she was only saying that to make her only child feel less guilty about being away. Ha!
The Kramer household has gone through yet another transformation in the last few weeks. Cole has settled down in Iowa City. (Okay, "settled down" isn't quite the right phrase with one disciplinary fine so far.) And Alex has just signed another year-long lease in Denver. We are officially in the empty nest gang. And while my heart hurts when I drive by the school, now acutely unaware of extra-curricular activities, and I long to bitch about the piles of shoes under the dining room table, smelly socks under the couch, dirty dishes on the living room floor, I've come to an important realization. I'm sleeping unbelievably well.
I hate to brag, but I've always been a fairly solid sleeper. When Doug and I were first married we'd crawl into bed and chat about our days as newlyweds do. But within minutes, I'd be responding in gibberish, talking about things like the horses we didn't have. You see, it takes me approximately three minutes to fall asleep after I hit the pillow. Back then, we would joke that when we'd have kids, Doug would need to be the one to get up with them since I fell asleep so quickly. Then we had kids. Mysteriously, Doug began to sleep sound as a pound. And I would awaken upon the slightest creak which was most certainly something that would bring harm to our kids.
Between crying babies, toddler nightmares, sick kids, teenagers going out, teenagers staying in (and having friends over), it's simply not possible to have peaceful sleep for the first 18 years of a child's life.Until, of course, they leave for college.
It didn't happen immediately. The first week, I found myself sitting in bed, stalking Life 360 to see where the new college student was and where he had gone that day. I was also texting our Denver-ite more to fill in the new silent gaps. Our Denver-ite likes to respond to texts well after bedtime, so I was awakening upon the dings just as I had been awakened by those slight creaks all those years ago... In other words, I was not sleeping like that mythical baby. Yet.
Then something happened. I began to bore of stalking Cole. I started calling Alex at sensible times so she couldn't text me in the middle of the night. And Doug and I began planning things. Projects to do. Places to go. Foods to try. Drinks to make. Golf clubs to hack. We were quickly reminded of our early married days. And you know what? Those were really fun days. And the days are beginning to be that fun once again.
Cole was home over Labor Day. We were ecstatic to see him. But it wasn't the worst to see him go back to avoid the worry that comes when he is out with his buddies–just as my mother had said all those years ago. He's not here. Alex isn't here. But they are well. And we can fall into a deep slumber with hardly any worry at all... except for, of course, that annoying, nocturnal bladder.
