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Drowning In A River Of Cheese.

Yes, that is correct. I am drowning in river of cheese. My house is quiet. Amelia left yesterday morning.  We packed her up for food and supplies and off she went. She is looking more and more like an adult each time she is home. We will be going to Rochester to see her for “Skates” senior hockey game in February.

Jack is at Albany airport as we speak. I must have appeared slightly deranged after he went through security. A county sheriff asked me if I was ok when we were side by side on the escalator. I suggested that the sheriff offer an escort for teary moms to be walked to their car after leaving a child to board a flight.

He smiled sadly, perhaps even knowingly. Or, the smell of Locatelli cheese weeping from my pours was enough to earn that sympathetic gaze.

A cheese coma.

Look, everyone has a vice they turn to for dealing with stress or sadness. Mine happens to be cheese. At this very moment, I have 11 types of cheese in my house. Chip gave me a cheese grotto for Christmas. Is there any better gift? Right now, there is a piece of Manchego and a ‘triangle’ of Romano comfortably nestled in that cheese cave.

It beckons to me like the devil. I have strategically sliced off what I thought were inconspicuous pieces of cheese. During my recent trip to the grotto, it appears the Romano triangle now resembles a deformed mound of cheese. I contemplated running to the Coop to replace it before Chip came home. Nah, he knows me too well.

My cheese arsenal.

  • Fresh Feta
  • Burrata
  • Goat cheese
  • Apple Cider Goat Cheese spread
  • Brie
  • Cheddar
  • Mozzarella- fresh and both smoked and regular
  • R&G Truffle cheese-Hudson Valley Truffle Falls
  • Manchego
  • Romano
  • Parmesan
  • Cream cheese but that does not count.

Are you with me? Tonight, I am going to create a platter of these assorted cheeses, perhaps add a few grapes to round out the palette, and a glass of wine. I will toast to our two children and wish them the best.

As I walk by their empty bedrooms tonight I will feel a pang of sadness….for me, not for them. My mudroom is empty. The usual mix of shoes are not on the floor. No need to make a quick batch of chocolate chip cookies to run downstairs; or a run to the store for snacks.

Parenting is a challenge and not for the reasons my kids might think. Letting go is hard and Jack, if you think I am waiting until June to see you, just wait until you hear that knock on your door. Goodnight guys, I love you.

kids holding a pug

 

This Post Has 3 Comments
  1. Oh, the tears and tears and tears! As I wrestle them to bed and look at my really messy mudroom that I’m ALWAYS complaining about, I feel like a fool and I do every time I complain. I know the day will come when it’s all clean. I know the day will come when I don’t hear them fighting and music from their rooms. Damn, this one hit home.
    I love a cheese, we now need to have wine and cheese parties and you need to hold my hand through this lady. Letting go is way too hard!

  2. You are so good with putting your thoughts down on paper, or now a days on the web. As our children change we as parents also change. As they grow, we grow. It’s so amazing to see what we taught them show up in them as adults. When they do leave, which is very hard for me still, I sit and just think of how my kids are growing up and parts of me and Chuck are right there in them. Crazy hah. They are Blessings from God. Hug them, love them, listen to them, and embrace the time with them. They will come back.

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