I know it so hard that I can't even say it out loud.

  I like to think that they'll always be down the hall from me, tucked not-so-tightly into their beds, those damn nighttime monsters single-handedly raising our electric bill a solid $100 every month.

It's our job as good, responsible parents to raise them so that they get the hell out and come home every now and then with several gigantic bags of dirty laundry and an empty stomach - just long enough for me to fold their socks, stuff them with food, and send them on their merry way, feeling lucky if they actually sit down at the table long enough to suck down their meal before gallavanting off with friends.

We're supposed to arm them with survival skills so that the big bad bright world doesn't chew them up and spit them out.

And we will. Parent's oath.

But not without a gigantic lump in our throat. That knowledge that we refuse to swallow - the window into the future where our chairs are no longer occupied by booster seats and sauce stains, the toys have long been donated or passed along, and their rooms -- the bright pink-walled masterpiece that she begged and pleaded for -- now changed to a dull tan office.

The scraps of paper have long been picked up, the crayon artwork scrubbed off our walls, and the once treasured macaroni necklaces crumbled and tossed.

We all know it's coming.

We laugh about being anxious for them to haul their butts off to college. We joke about when they'll visit for holidays and we'll embarrass them in front of their significant others with their naked baby pictures.

We smile at the thought of bouncing their own kids on our knees.

And we secretly cry at the thought of having to beg, borrow, and beg some more just to get them all in one place. Together.

They will leave - maybe one by one or two at a time - and it will never be like it is right now.

Go look. Take a snapshot in your mind. File it away. Carefully.

I watch them, all my children all together, sometimes staring at the big bright screen from the couch shoving cookies not so squarely into their mouths, other times fighting and screaming over the deflated balloon and flattened box while the big, brand new, battery operated piece of crap toy sits alone in the corner.

I dance recklessly with them as the radio blasts inappropriate club music through our basement. I sit with them, all crammed in a bathtub, while they wash my feet and make me bubble tea and soup.

And I try to soak in every single second of them being together.

All my children. All in one place.

Because I know.

I know it so hard that I can't even say it out loud.

Comments

[Eveline]

This is definitely a heartbreaking story...
But it's really wonderful that your kids come to visit you regularly and the main thing is that they want to.
Your post made me cry right at the office...

[Marta]

My kids are only 4.5 and 10 months old and I think about this all the time. Mostly because I compare it to my relationship with my own parents. I don't want that. As a parent I hope my children never feel the way I do. The burden of having to visit. I try to squeeze every moment in because I know there will come a time much sooner than later that they will no longer want to kiss me goodnight, will rather see a movie with their friends than me, and will be just all together too busy.

[Loukia]

This post ripped my heart out during VOTY. Thank you so much for reading this. Now, here I sit at work, and fresh tears are falling from my face again. Damn it! Thank you. This was amazing, and so, so true.

[Melissa]

I actually tried to have a similar conversation with my husband just recently. And couldn't get the actual words out. Could not say one day they will l....

Dropped my bottom lip instead and cried into his shirt. Looked up and his eyes were suspiciously moist as well.

What a beautiful blog post.

[Herve leger]

God you made me cry. You certainly know how to write, congratulations...

[christian louboutin shoes]

*Perhaps you should go on a tour.

[Tonya]

Just last week after a particularly trying week, I voiced outloud to a friend I can say it to (in tears): I don't know wether I should encourage my daughters to have children when the're older or beg them not too. The heartbreak is just too much to bear. If it's my job to raise them healthy and happy doesn't that mean I should try and prevent what I know to be the most (emotionally) painful thing out there? I can't honestly say that if I knew how much it would hurt when they are this close to leaving home that I would have had kids. Surely the human instinct to protect yourself from pain would have kicked in if young, child-bearing me had known...

[Laurie]

The thought of never having this sense of emptiness makes the thought of never having them to lose even worse, from where I am in the cheap seats. It's weird to be envious of something that seems sad on the surface, but only because of the incredible value of what I know you have right now.

That's just what this made me think. You're a person I know that I can say this to, so thanks for that. This was so beautiful, Kristen.

[mythoughtsonthat]

Oh! I loved this!

[Amy from She Wears Many Hats]

Been thinking about this a lot lately as our oldest just turned 15 and is slowly but surely inching her way out the door. I usually grumble and groan about having to drive hither and yon during the holidays to make everyone else happy, so we can all be together in one place. But this year, I think I'm starting to see it differently and that one day I'll be the one waiting by the window for my dear family to show up.

It goes by much too fast.

[Erin]

beautiful - bittersweet and true.

[Mrs. Q.]

The "someday" of my kids growing up and leaving knocks the wind out of me.

[Claudia]

God you made me cry. You certainly know how to write, congratulations

[Marivic Valencia]

It's awful, just a pill. Of my 5 girls, my oldest is 22, and lives in CA with her 10 mo old son, my 21 y/o goes to school in Appleton, and my 19 y/o twins have their own apartments (granted, here in town, but still). The youngest is almost 5, and now that I know first-hand how fast it really goes, gah, can't we all just never leave home and never age?! Lovely post, thank you for sharing.

[Julie]

Such a nice post, and such true words! Tommy is going through a stage where when he is upset at me he says he going away and never coming back - I hope it doesn't come true! And then I think of all the calls with my various parents - when are you coming to visit?

[Fairly Odd Mother]

What do you mean my kids are going to grow up and leave me alone? Oh, no they won't! In fact, my oldest told me recently that she is going to live with me forever and ever.

And I believe her.

(sniff)

[Diapers and Wine]

This might be the most amazing thing I've read in a long time. Had a horrible night with my 4-year old. The kind of night where you get SO EFFING MAD at them and then feel guilty for getting so effing mad at them.

Thanks for this.

[Rita Arens]

I was thinking about all that just this weekend, though I have one child, so maybe parts of it are amplified while other parts are lessened. But yes. Yes.

[Mom101]

Isn't this really why we blog?

So we can remember?

[Sue @ Laundry for Six]

Half of my kids are at the stage where they are motally embarrassed by my very existence. And the other half are on my last nerve right now. So thank you for this.

[Jodi]

It is so true. I wish i could stop time at this point where my kids are so sweet and lovely. They love being with us so much and I know this won't last long at all either much past preteen age. I agree with commenter above that we should try to be the fun parents later in life that they don't begrudge having to visit once they are gone. This is why I want another baby. NOT because I need more to take care of but because caretaking pays back so big in that unprompted kiss or hug from a little one it is so worth every second.

[AshAllman]

Choking up over here! I so needed this, after spending the entire weekend complaining to my husband about how difficult our two year old is right now. #2 is on the way in about 10 weeks, and I'm freaking about how to juggle them both. But reading this reminds me that all those little (or big) day to day struggles really are just a blip on the radar of my sons' lives, and I'm SO BLESSED to have this time when then need me, want to cuddle with me and miss me when I'm away.

[Issa]

I love this Kristen. Love it.

I sometimes wish I could bottle mine up the ages they are right now. I absolutely adore each of them. M will be nine in two months and I look at her and wonder where the hell the time went. Where my coliky baby went. Where my hyperactive, cherub faced toddler went.

[Amira]

I almost stopped reading half way through because I wasn't sure if I wanted to tear up so early in the day, but I did read it all and I did tear up. This morning was an ESPECIALLY trying one, to say the least, and the guilt from that plus the heart wrenching truth behind your words really hit home.

Aiman is our only child at the moment, but the thought of him and his future siblings out in the world and away from me is something I can hold off on.

Thank you for the reminder and excuse me while I go snuggle my munchkin a little (much) more.

[Ashley N]

Crying at work, thank you very much.

[Goon Squad Sarah]

*hyperventilates*

(Also, really great post, but mostly just not saying it out loud.)

[Amy]

Try one of these for the nighttime monsters - works like a charm in my house:

http://www.amazon.com/Cloud-Twilight-Constellation-Night-Turtle/dp/B000BNQC58/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1286801909&sr=8-1

(We have the ladybug.)

I choose to believe that my kids are going to live at home and go to the college in town and then buy houses in our neighborhood and never leave me. What do you mean that's unrealistic??

[Debi (Truthful Mommy)]

OH, don't I know it. The thought of it makes me want to crumble to the ground in a puddle of snot and tears. I feel like a bad Mommy because I secretly want them to stay small forever. I feel even worse when I start feeling like I should have another baby because it hurts so bad that my littles are getting bigger.Being a Mommy means walking around the world with a constant open wound..our love for them.It's really like a cruel joke.WE have these babies that we are so deeply in love that we can barely stand it, then as they get older, the more difficult they become ( teenagers I hear are the worst) it has to be so that it doesn't physically kill us and break our hearts when they do in fact leave for college. I have never been one who is looking forward to college for them because I know what it means ..it means things will change forever and it hurts my Mommy heart! Big Hugs, Happy Mothering!

[Karen Chatters]

Sure, start me off on this day in tears. It's just going to all go so fast, isn't it???

[S]

You hit the nail right on the head. Mine are now 18,20 and 23 and getting them together is so hard!! I get so homesick for them it's almost embarrassing :)

[Amanda]

Charlotte's Web.

This was beautiful. You are wise to anticipate the change of rhythm that stands unmoving in our future. Sean and I talk constantly about becoming architects of a later life that is so fantastic the kids will want to come, if just to lay their skis somewhere.

[Cathy Roche,LMFT]

Sounds like a lot of us are thinking and feeling along the same lines. Check out my post @blogger.com Riding in cars with boys.

[Michelle]

Mine are 15 and 16 and I know it so deep that I've completely buried the thought and no longer know where it is ;-)

But the day will come......