Okay, so my two boys went on a five-day school trip.

On Monday morning, we dropped them off at school, bags packed, excitement buzzing, and I was joking with one of the teachers about how I’d be so free for the next five days. Free! Productive! Calm! A house that stayed tidy for more than ten minutes!

…I was wrong. Because guess what? I miss them. Like, really miss them.

The house feels weird without them. Too quiet. Too still. The kind of quiet that sounds nice in theory but feels unsettling when you’re actually living in it. Even though I’ve got loads of work to do, I’m not getting any more done. If anything, I’m wandering around aimlessly, half-listening for noises that aren’t there.

It’s just not the same. And yes, if I'm honest, they probably spend too much time playing computer games at home. But hey, they're 11-year-old boys. This is how they socialise, how they connect with their friends. But even that noise - the shouting, the laughing, the constant calling each other “bro” every other minute - I miss it.

I miss hearing their voices echoing through the house. I miss them coming downstairs for the fifth time in an hour asking, “What can I eat?” I miss the background chaos I didn’t realise had become my comfort.

Being without them has made me think about what it must feel like when kids grow up and leave home for good. When they go off to uni. Or move out. Is it called empty nest syndrome? Because if this is just a five-day preview, then wow - that must hit hard.

You go from having children around all the time to suddenly… they’re just not there anymore. No noise. No mess. No random fridge raids. That’s massive.

They’re coming home tomorrow, and I’ve done that whole thing of cleaning their room and stocking up on their favourite watermelon ice lollies. Yep, ice lollies. In winter. Do anyone else’s kids demand ice lollies regardless of the weather?

And now I’m standing in this house that’s too clean and too quiet, realising I actually miss the constant noise, the mess, the never-ending pile of laundry. Turns out, I need that chaos more than I thought. Weird, eh? I never thought I’d be saying that.

I honestly can’t wait for them to come home. Of course, I’ll play it cool in front of their friends - I mean, come on, they have a reputation to maintain, don’t you know?! But the moment we walk through the door? I won’t be able to help myself. There will be hugs, and I’ll be loudly declaring how much I missed them.

They’re still at an age where I can get away with randomly hugging them and kissing them on the cheek - and, surprisingly, they actually let me. One of my boys lets me more than the other; the other sometimes tells me I’m being annoying. Fair enough. Although I’ve noticed that if I sneak a kiss on his cheek while he’s completely absorbed in a computer game, he doesn’t really notice…good tactic, right? I’m not sure how much longer I’ll be able to get away with this, so I’m making the most of it while I can. But yeah, it's just weird how much happier the house feels just knowing they’re in it.

I don’t know how long I’ve got left until they leave home for good. Seven years, maybe? That doesn’t feel like very long at all.

So yes, I’m holding on. To the noise. The mess. The “bro.” The constant snack requests. All of it. Because one day, the house really will be quiet. And I already know I won’t like it.

What’s the message here? I guess it’s this: you don’t realise what you miss until it’s gone. So make the most of it while you can. 🩷