artificial insemination kit for humans
The popsicle wrappers are the tipping point. After a long, exhausting commute from work one sweltering afternoon, I walked into the house to find two empty popsicle bags sitting on the entryway table. You know the type—long, clear tubes filled with flavored water, vibrant colors matching their respective flavors. I called out for my son, who was back from college for the summer, to come clean them up. No response. So, I kicked off my shoes, dropped my keys, and took the wrappers to the kitchen to dispose of them myself.
For the past 20 years, I’ve been picking up those popsicle wrappers—under the couch, on the table, scattered on the porch, the car floor, beneath car seats, and stuffed into gym bags. They’ve been an unmistakable symbol of summer in our home.
This summer is no different. My 21-year-old son is coaching a city-league swim team and often drifts home for lunch, devouring what seems like a dozen popsicles daily. While some wrappers make it to the trash, many do not. I never really thought much about it in summers past; we usually tidy up after each other without complaint. But this year feels different. He’s heading into his junior year of college in the fall, and it’s unlikely he’ll return home next summer—or the summer after that. So, what then? Is this really it? Will photo internships and newspaper assignments pull him away for good? Will his little room—also my office when he’s away—remain empty?
I’ve adapted to his semester absences. My diet transformed dramatically the first semester he moved to the dorm; free from the need to prepare regular dinners, I survived on olives and yogurt for days. My husband and I now enjoy our slow morning coffee in our pajamas. Laundry is tackled at a much more leisurely pace, and fresh towels last significantly longer. There’s a calmer, less chaotic vibe in the air.
However, breaks are a wonderful opportunity to reconnect—making meatloaf, nostalgically washing and folding his laundry, and embracing my role as a mom for a few weeks. Now, I’m confronted with the end of those temporary reunions, and despite thinking I was prepared, I’m not ready.
A couple of weeks ago, my husband emerged from the bathroom grumbling about the lack of clean towels, despite a recent laundry day. He was right; all the dirty towels were in my son’s room. It’s frustrating, especially when we have to have that “please don’t hoard the towels” conversation yet again. His Vans clutter the hallway, gym bags linger on the kitchen table, and his camera equipment is scattered around. At times, it resembles a college dorm, which can be annoying.
But somehow, this summer, I can’t muster the same frustration. This is it. All those years of groaning over dirty towels, scattered shoes, loud video game sessions, and yes, popsicle wrappers are approaching a new chapter. Soon, when we load up the car to move him back to his dorm, he won’t be returning home for the summer. Sure, he’ll visit for holidays or weekends, but those long, easy summers—filled with pool towels on the porch, family meals, and carrying all the grocery bags in one trip—are coming to an unexpected close.
He’s technically an adult now. A young one, sure, but an adult nonetheless. It’s good that he’s ready (is he? I hope so!) to cut the apron strings. It will be beneficial for him to explore, experience life, and solve problems—all the things that come naturally for young adults. Yet, as I contemplate the absence of our usual summer reunions next year, the thought of quieter evenings and returning to a diet of olives and yogurt overwhelms me with bittersweet feelings.
Those legs he needs to stretch—will be stretching—still seem to me like they belong beneath Thomas the Tank Engine pajamas, band-aided and bruised, enjoying a popsicle in the cool evening air before bedtime.
Tomorrow, when I come home and those popsicle wrappers inevitably litter the house, perhaps I’ll leave them there a little longer. For more on this subject and related topics, check out this post and learn from this resource about pregnancy and home insemination.
Search Queries
- What to Expect When Your Child Goes to College
- How to Navigate the Empty Nest Syndrome
- Tips for Spending Quality Time with Your College Student
- How to Transition from Parenting to Supporting an Adult Child
- Maintaining Family Bonds After College
In summary, as I face my child’s last summer at home, I find it difficult to stay upset about the usual messes that signify his presence. With the bittersweet reality of him transitioning into adulthood, I realize these moments are fleeting, and perhaps it’s time to embrace the chaos a little longer.