RIVER CITY JOURNAL: EVEN THE CAT WAS FRAZZLED BY A CROWD OF FOUR

Two parents and two sons. We lived that way for 22 years. So why is it so hard to cope when everyone gets together?

When my wife and I became empty-nesters a few years ago, we moped and lamented just like we had seen our friends do when their children left home for college or jobs or marriage.

That lasted about two weeks.

What we discovered, my wife and I, was that we had been invaded for the past 22 years by a couple of demanding house guests who expected to be fed, clothed, entertained and educated.

It has been more than four years since we became total empty-nesters -- that is, both sons away from home at the same time. And the truth is that we have adjusted so well that having both boys home at the same time proved to be a little stressful.

For example, we had to eat all our meals sitting around a table, either in the kitchen or in the dining room. My wife and I have taken to eating at least one meal a day in the comfort of our recliners in the family room. Sitting up straight without putting your elbows on the table is hard work when you are used to having your feet elevated.

Then there were the unmade beds (boys' rooms), clothing strewn everywhere (boys' rooms) and general havoc (boys' rooms), forcing us to seek haven during their visit (our bedroom).

Even the cat was a mite put out by the extra humans with big feet. She can tolerate the boys (they're really men, of course) one at a time, but she went a little loopy trying to keep track of both of them at the same time. After the boys left, the cat slept for 24 hours straight, exhausted from the perils of family life.

As empty-nesters, we had forgotten what critics we had created in raising our sons. Our kitchen is "backwards," they said, meaning it isn't arranged just like their own kitchens -- which, we presume, aren't identical. During a previous visit, younger son was so frustrated with our spice containers that he removed all the shaker tops. This meant the first time my wife or I used a particular spice after he left, we were more than likely going to dump the contents of the container into whatever was being cooked.

"Please!" my wife pleaded after both boys were in residence for their recent visit. "Don't take the tops off the spices!" Is that too much for a loving mother to ask?

The boys scowled.

It was either too hot or too cold for the boys. We tried to explain how autumn in Missouri works, but they showed their disgust by opening windows or hunkering under wool afghans, depending on which message they were trying to send.

One night we decided to go out to eat. I suggested a place with great cheeseburgers. Older son retorted, "Why would we want fried food?" I pointed out that in the first place fried foods were still legal in this country in spite of drastic changes in eating habits and, furthermore, he had admired a concoction with burger, cheese and bacon advertised the previous day in the newspaper. He snorted. So help me, the very next day we went to lunch, and he ordered -- guess what? -- a great big cheeseburger.

After just a few days of familial togetherness, my wife and I were beginning to show our frazzled edges. It is a parental condition in which the glue of boundless love for your offspring is sorely tested by the turpentine of life as applied by the headstrong young men you call sons.

There were the usual strong emotions, of course, as one son and then the other departed for what they saw as the sanity of their own lives thousands of miles apart -- and, most importantly, thousands of miles from home.

To be real honest, I breathed a small sigh of relief, knowing I could eat spaghetti in my recliner if I wanted to, complete with a kitchen towel for a bib.

Then why does that hollow spot somewhere betwixt my chest and abdomen ache so much?

It turns out we have managed to cope with the empty nest. And we have lulled ourselves into thinking we have conquered the syndrome. But, in fact, the empty nest isn't what's around us.

It's what's inside us.

~R. Joe Sullivan is the editor of the Southeast Missourian.