A few weeks ago, our teenage girls went on a church mission trip to the mountains of Idaho with no cell service. As a result, we got to experience a free six-day trial of Empty Nester Life™.

We’ve spent time alone without the kids, of course. But it has always been to places where kids aren’t expected to tag along. Like that long weekend in Vegas or our anniversary trip to the Canadian Rockies.

But this time was different. Our home was impossibly quiet. An unfamiliar stillness hung in the air, making everything feel just a little weird if I’m being honest.

I can’t think of a time when I woke, morning after morning, to find both of their bedrooms dark and empty. It felt odd sipping my coffee every morning, knowing no one would be clomping down the stairs and start rummaging through the pantry, declaring there is nothing to eat. I’ve never gone six whole days without communicating with my children.

As the week unfolded, something interesting happened. I caught a glimpse of our future. 

I had fuzzy visions of my husband and I sitting alone at the dinner table every night. I could picture a day in the near future when I begin taking the trash out myself because the person assigned to that chore no longer lives here. I imagined a clean home with no stray socks on the floor, no random plastic cups on the bathroom counter, and no one asking permission to go somewhere.

I have to admit – I’m not sure I’m ready for it.

Anyway, we went about the week focused on just the two of us. One evening, we sat on the patio at one of our favorite restaurants. At that moment, we weren’t responsible for two minors with a curfew and could spend the whole evening talking about whatever we wanted that had nothing to do with kids! 

What would it be!? A new house project? Next summer’s vacation? The stock market? 

We started off with good intentions, enjoying chips and margaritas as we talked to each other about our day. 

We reflected on some big decisions and dreams that are beginning to take root. 

We casually commented on some new construction downtown.

We discussed the unseasonably cool weather.

But then it happened. Like a decades-long habit we can’t shake, the conversation drifted back to our kids before we realized it was happening.

But this time, we talked about the past. 

Lately, our conversations have focused around things like club sports and college tours. Its been quite a while since we stopped to reflect on the early years. 

Those were the days when we longed for the clock to announce bedtime, because we could barely keep our eyes open by 7pm. We laughed, remembering how we both despised bath time. We often used it as a bartering tool to get out of having to be the one to rinse the shampoo from the hair of a toddler who thought getting water in her eyes was a fate worse than death.

We reflected on parenting challenges so overwhelming that we couldn’t fathom how they’d ever resolve themselves. But now they seem like such a distant memory, and we almost wonder if we imagined it. 

We remembered praying as young parents, pleading with God to answer our desperate prayers. Now we can look back and see all the ways He did. We can also thank Him for all the wisdom-filled ways that He didn’t.

Reflecting on this parenting journey over chips and margaritas, we realized that we’ve never allowed ourselves to celebrate the small victories. All this time, I’ve kind of brushed past those years in my mind, because they were filled with mundane moments that we didn’t think twice about. 

We shuttled the kids to school. We asked who they played with at recess. We initialed their daily folders and made sure they read their take-home reader three times. We tucked them into bed and prayed over our second grader’s battle with anxiety. We wondered if the five year old’s lisp would go away, or if we needed to see a speech therapist. 

We chaperoned field trips and volunteered in the PTA. We went to the park and took off the training wheels and pulled the teeth. We made the lunches and cleaned the scrapes and gave the pep talks.

All of it seemed so routine –  just part of ordinary life. Day to day activities that melted together to form a great big chunk of our life.

But when we stop to think about the past, we quickly realize just how much those early years mattered. Showing up. Over and over again. Being present, even if it wasn’t perfect. 

Being there for your 7 year old when she gets sick in the night is just as significant as helping her decide which college degree to pursue.

I wish I could tell you that we managed to go an entire evening without bringing up the kids. But I’m kind of glad we didn’t. Reflecting on the past was such a great reminder that our role as parents has been one of our greatest shared accomplishments. It has made us stronger as a couple, and created a bond I never imagined possible.

If you’re still parenting littles, know that the long days matter. You won’t be exhausted forever. The work you’re doing now has eternal significance. Even if it just looks like cleaning up messes and saying the exact same bedtime prayer for 425 days in a row.

If your kids are nearly grown, I highly recommend taking some time to reflect. The mistakes you made will sort themselves out. The moments you thought were just mundane parts of everyday life? Turns out, those are the ones that actually mattered most. 

I realized that it’s ok if I’m not quite ready to let it all go. I’m grateful for reminders to soak it all in, right down to the moment I squeeze them tight as they walk out the front door for the last time. I plan to spend these next 3 years doing just that. What a beautiful ride it’s been.

Honestly? I have no idea what we’ll talk about when we’re truly empty nesters. But with any luck, our conversations will often involve chips and margaritas.