My stepson and daughter are moving out – all in the same week. Piles of clutter waiting to be sorted are everywhere and boxes litter every room in my home. Secretly, I’m glad for the distraction.
Between listening as my stepson gives instructions on how to enroll him for classes in 2015 and arranging for my daughter’s U-Haul, I’m painfully aware that my kids are leaving home. For good.
My husband will soon stand and watch as his boy walks through security at the airport and leaves for a two-year mission to Mexico. It pains me to know he’ll stand at that same spot two years from now, looking for his boy. Instead, he’ll welcome home a man.
I’m trading Pinterest posts with my daughter, helping her decorate a kitchen the size of a postage stamp. And with every piece of Ikea furniture we assemble, I realize she’s leaving my nest for good to begin a home of her own. Suddenly, my nest feels empty.
I’m writing about my kids growing up and moving out and how it feels to help them make lives of their own. You can read about it in my latest column for The Arizona Republic and azcentral.com. http://t.co/zDQYzqxSuo


