Yesterday I had lunch with some of my girlfriends, for the first time all summer. We've been trying to get together, really trying to coordinate our schedules, since school let out at the end of May.
I'd say that's unfortunate except that I don't believe it. We've all been running around with our arms full of such good things. Fifteen, sixteen, seventeen years ago we could meet more regularly for lunch. We went to kid-friendly places and commandeered all the highchairs and stuffed our babies and toddlers inside them. We talked while dumping Cheerios onto trays and spooning baby food and wiping noses.
It seems like yesterday. S-- ran out to the car to grab something, and her small son swiveled in his high chair, stared at me in horror, and said, "Hey! Where's my mom?" T-- took a photo at one of these lunches of my daughter, perhaps two years old, playing with a small toy on the table. That photo is framed and sitting on my bookshelf.
We grabbed coffee before preschool pickup. We chaperoned kindergarten trips to the Nutcracker. We met at endless, endless t-ball games, endured grade-school "talent" shows, talked about discipline and spelling bees and what age our children should get cell phones.
Now we've got one child graduated from college, recovering from surgery, looking for a job. Another serving in the military. Several applying to college. One getting his first apartment. One planning to study abroad. All our children are starting to figure out what they want from life, what they love, who they want to be.
Yesterday we couldn't wait until these kids got out of diapers. Today we're amazed how this summer has flown. Tomorrow we'll get together for lunch again. Only somewhere with a wine list, please.
I'd say that's unfortunate except that I don't believe it. We've all been running around with our arms full of such good things. Fifteen, sixteen, seventeen years ago we could meet more regularly for lunch. We went to kid-friendly places and commandeered all the highchairs and stuffed our babies and toddlers inside them. We talked while dumping Cheerios onto trays and spooning baby food and wiping noses.
It seems like yesterday. S-- ran out to the car to grab something, and her small son swiveled in his high chair, stared at me in horror, and said, "Hey! Where's my mom?" T-- took a photo at one of these lunches of my daughter, perhaps two years old, playing with a small toy on the table. That photo is framed and sitting on my bookshelf.
We grabbed coffee before preschool pickup. We chaperoned kindergarten trips to the Nutcracker. We met at endless, endless t-ball games, endured grade-school "talent" shows, talked about discipline and spelling bees and what age our children should get cell phones.
Now we've got one child graduated from college, recovering from surgery, looking for a job. Another serving in the military. Several applying to college. One getting his first apartment. One planning to study abroad. All our children are starting to figure out what they want from life, what they love, who they want to be.
Yesterday we couldn't wait until these kids got out of diapers. Today we're amazed how this summer has flown. Tomorrow we'll get together for lunch again. Only somewhere with a wine list, please.
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