I was a mom for thirty three years. While I am not completely out of a job it feels like semi retirement. When the first batch of kids were small they depended on me to cook pasta, and drive them to play dates. There was not a block of cheese in the refrigerator that I didn't plunk there or a pair of jammies in the drawer that I did not wash. If we went to the beach I brought the sunblock and sand toys. If they had new dresses I sewed them. 

This week all nine of our children were in the same place for the third time in twelve months. The older six handled their own itineraries, arriving by planes I did not book, cars I do not insure, Ubers I did not reserve. They filled two kitchens with ingredients and washed the frying pans. Our son and his wife shipped speakers ahead and arrived with luggage packed with cables and iPads to create the music for the ceremony, the live stream video, and a photo booth. Our daughter brought cameras and expertise to capture a few thousand images, from the bride's necklace slipping down the bathroom drain to the attendants skipping up the aisle in tennis shoes. Another daughter remembered the sunblock. When I complimented her on her dress she smiled and said she had made it. Out of a pillowcase.

Frankly, I lounged through the wedding and much of the reception but they barely sat down. 

My relationship with John has been defined by parenthood for three decades and as the last few teenagers glide into adulthood we need to recalibrate. In the first act of The Odhner Family I was in charge. But halfway through the second I have dropped from CEO to a part time consultant. Their knowledge about lenses and flash drives leaves me in the dust and so does their earning power. 

Yet even as our progeny print boarding passes for return flights, I wonder when such a marvelous meeting will reconvene. The memories of dancing until we could hardly breathe will last a good while. Maybe all the way until the next wedding in 2016.