Brilliant … But Bouncy

I Will Have Two Choices.

Well. The kids are at camp. Now what?

I have nothing to do. I have nothing to think about. I can start planning our next vacation, I suppose, since – for now – the kids will be coming home soon.

Instead, I am thinking about the future. I am thinking about how bored I am going to be. I am thinking that I will have to physically restrain myself from texting one or both of them – at least for the first five years.I am thinking that I will not have anything interesting in my life, ever again, until grandchildren come. And then I will be fighting with the mother of the poor child because it’s bad enough that I don’t see my own son, but now my grandchild, too!

I have already frequented little league games where I don’t know a single child on either team. What’s to keep me from becoming a foster mom or, heaven forbid, adopting another child? I mean, well – what’s to stop me other than my husband?

And my husband – holy moly. What the heck am I supposed to do with him for the next 30 years or so? What will we talk about if the kids aren’t around? How will we ever plan anything? What will there be to coordinate? We certainly aren’t going to hold deep, meaningful conversations as we watch the sun set. He never sits down long enough for that. Plus, our yard is laced with mosquitoes.

The way I see it, when both kids are gone – in four, already-way-too-short years – I will have two choices.

1. I will adopt dogs. I will adopt so many dogs, there will never be a dull moment in the house. I will rescue them from shelters and rescues and treat them as well (if not better) than I ever treated my kids.
2. I will teach. I will teach one-on-one, at homes, and I will tutor and I will be the busiest doggone substitute teacher this county has ever had. I will teach five days a week, 260 days a year. I will make sure those students know that someone, even if it’s only a lowly substitute, cares about them.

I only see one problem with both of those solutions to what will be ailing me in five years:

The dogs and the students … won’t ever be my children.