Lasagna and Engagement Rings


That lasagna from last night’s dinner is sitting like a rock in my stomach right now, but that’s not the only thing keeping me awake. Within thirteen months my husband and I will have had weddings for two of our three daughters, and the third will be graduating high school.
Talk about lifestyle change.
I’m not ready for them to leave.
“Well, yeah, what did you think would happen when they grew up?” You ask.
But that’s just it, I never saw it coming. It was like that nice, comforting plate of steaming lasagna. I enjoyed every bit of it, until it came to an end. Now I’m left with dirty dishes and a need for Pepto Bismol.
How I wish we could hold on to them. “That’s not the real world.” You say.
Well fine, let me have a bit of fantasy, OK?
Let me hold on to their little sticky hands a bit longer.
Let me braid their hair one more time, and separate them when they are fighting over who gets the pretty Barbie and who has to play with the one their baby sister decided to give a haircut.
Let me read them Richard Scarry’s books at bedtime, and make all the funny noises and see them giggle with delight.
Please.

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