We just deposited our daughter at college, so I have been moaning about the empty nest. Imagine my surprise to discover underfoot a baby bird not yet launched -- my younger daughter.

Such is the lot of the second child. Even in utero Jenny suffered benign neglect as I consumed the occasional glass of wine.

‘Whatever,’ I’d think.

After an exhausting labor, I could have cared less when the nurses whisked her away to the nursery. Whenever my firstborn pitched a fit, I oozed empathy. With Jenny, I just stepped around her sob-wracked, prostrate body.

“Whatever,” I’d say.

At my older daughter’s college orientation, parents told me how close they had grown to their younger children still at home.

I took note.

So this weekend Jenny and I spent the whole day together. I cheered her on at her track meet, then we gabbed over lunch. We chased down ducks with a pedal boat, then prowled vintage clothing haunts.

I know it won’t be long before she’s rolling her eyes and saying “Whatever” herself. But until then -- I’m going to savor every moment.

By Lorrie Goldin

Labels: College, Empyt Nest Syndrome, Lorrie Goldin

Stumble This Post