Empty Nest Syndrome

I spent a wonderful weekend with my second oldest daughter who just got engaged a week ago. She hadn't been home in weeks, only popping in for Friday night dinner with her destined one. Wanting him to do well on his exams without any distraction, she decided to spend the weekend with her long-lost family.

Friday morning her fiancee treated me and my son to an amazing breakfast at Jerusalem's Foccacia restaurant on Rabbi Akiva Street.

"You can't come to this restaurant without ordering focaccia," my daughter warned me, and I thought the focaccia would be another thick piece of bread with a little bit of seasoning here and there, as it is in most restaurants here. I was happily surprised when I saw what the waitress brought to us - the softest, thinnest, biggest foccacia I had ever seen and tasted, drizzled with olive oil and seasoned with fresh garlic cloves and sage leaves. Well worth the extra 9 NIS ($2.50) on the bill.


Foccacia at Foccacia Restaurant

Saturday was peaceful and I happily helped my daughter go through the maze at the US consulate's website so she can apply for a US passport. I thought I'd get AdSense put on this blog and it took me hours to figure out how - and I went around in cyber circles with this thing.

That evening, my daughter went back to her guy and I suddenly felt so sad, so miserable. I'm so happy for her getting a real nice guy who treats her like a queen. But I miss those fun girlie evenings we have over the past few years. I fondly remembered before my oldest daughter got married how we'd watch scary movies on Friday night after dinner. We'd squeeze all together on the couch with popcorn and blankets during the winter months,and laugh and scream simultaneously at the scary and gory parts. And now my house is getting empty.

I wiped away a couple of tears and headed for my special treat that I bought for myself this weekend - blueberries (which I only buy once a year because they are extremely expensive for the tiny box).


Expensive Israeli blueberries

I consoled myself with a nash from my own childhood - blueberries and sour cream - only this time I added ricotta cheese to the treat.

The next morning at my office I just burst into tears as I told my co-workers that I was having an Empty Nest Syndrome Attack.

My friend tells me, "Of course you feel terrible. Because you know that after they're gone, you're just left with HIM," which made me cry even more.

Then the sex-or-no-sex-with-our-husbands conversation began and I told them I had spent the entire afternoon trying to put Google ads on my blog.

"So you'd rather Google than Schmoogle," said one of my friends.

Yeah.