Remember how when you were young you were really grossed out about the idea of your parents having sex? The very thought of them entwined in one another’s arms was enough to make you throw up in your mouth. In fact, it was so unimaginable that you might have actually thought they only did it the number of times corresponding to the number of children in your family. I know I did.

It turns out that the idea of your parents having sex isn’t really that bad when you think about it. What’s really disgusting is the thought of your kids having sex.

It’s a visual we all try and avoid. But when you’re faced with evidence of their adult activities – a package of condoms left in a drawer, for example – it’s hard not to let your mind go there.

When our daughters were little, I used to enjoy tormenting my husband by casually mentioning that I hoped they had satisfying sex lives one day. I would drop that bombshell and watch the ensuing fireworks. Later, when they were getting ready to leave for college, I thought I was the epitome of cool because I bought condoms for them while on a Target run. They squirmed, and I laughed, loving every minute of it.

But it’s actually not that funny now that I consider the idea of them, their friends, and my friends’ kids as sexually active human beings. What was I laughing about? Just as I prefer to think of my parents in an Ozzy and Harriet world of twin beds (which they never had) and chaste pecks on the cheek, I prefer to think of my kids holding hands and slow dancing with clean cut young men who take them on actual dates.

So please, don’t interrupt my G-rated fantasy. Let’s pretend to ignore the fact that birds do it, bees do it….and yes, our kids do it, too.

Our kids are away at college and my husband and I certainly miss them, but not as much as you might think. Luckily we have someone else to praise, scold, cuddle and fawn over in their absence. Someone who has, in effect, replaced our children: Our dog, Otis.

Don’t get me wrong; Otis never suffered from lack of attention. He has been showered with love and affection since the day he arrived almost 13 years ago. But something has changed in our family dynamic now that our nest is empty. Apparently we are not quite finished being parents. Our nurturing roles are so ingrained that we automatically focus on our dog.

With the kids out of the picture most of the time, there’s nothing Otis does that escapes our scrutiny and delight.  We gang pet him while he is trying to take a nap, sing to him at odd moments, and worry over his every misstep. We gaze adoringly at him as he snores on one of his four dog beds – two are orthopedic because he has arthritis – and tell each other over and over how cute he is. Instead of tucking in the kids, I now find my husband crouched in front of Otis at night to give him one last pat on his sweet furry head.

Is it weird that we took more photos of Otis while on vacation at the beach than we do of our kids?  Probably. But Otis doesn’t seem to mind and our kids are probably relieved to escape our clutches. It’s a win-win…at least until they come home on break.

The conventional wisdom is that the college years are the best years of your life. In many ways, that’s true. Assuming you’re lucky enough to have parents willing to foot the bill, you have the freedom of living away from home – and the parental scrutiny that goes with it – minus the hassle of paying for it. Without the burden of worrying how you’ll pay rent or where your next meal is coming from, life is totally carefree and full of possibilities. 

The problem with this scenario is that while there are plenty of lighthearted and fun aspects to the college years, there are also some serious expectations.  Between the tender ages of 18 and 22, you’re expected to figure out what you want to do with the rest of your life.

Those of us well beyond the college years make it seem easy: Take a bunch of different courses until something strikes your fancy! Do what you love and the money will follow! But what happens if you don’t know what you love or you dabble in different courses but still have no clue as to the direction you want to take when it’s time to declare your major after just two years in college?

No wonder why college kids party all the time. They have to get good and drunk in order to forget the fact that they are at a pivotal moment in their lives. They’re essentially buying – or asking their parents to buy – what will probably turn out to be the most expensive thing they’ll ever purchase (apart from a house) and they’re not even sure what they’ll be getting for their money! If they’re unsure and change direction too many times, it will cost even more.

So we should all tell our kids: Have fun at those football games, fraternity parties, and bars. As you stumble home in the wee hours of the morning, try not to think about the fact that you have no idea where you’ll be living in a couple of years (please don’t let it be my basement), much less how you’ll pay for it. Drink up! And by the way, welcome to adulthood.

Here’s something you don’t realize until it’s happening to you: The older you are, the longer it takes to get ready for bed. Let’s review my bedtime routine:

First, I peel my contacts off of my eyes, which are apparently drying with age. Next, I put in Restasis, to moisturize my dry eyes.  I found out I needed this medicine when I went to the eye doctor because I couldn’t see. I thought my prescription was changing, but no, it couldn’t be that easy. Instead of getting a new pair of glasses, I have to put these drops in for the rest of my life if I don’t want to feel as if there’s sand in my eyes.

Next, it’s on to hair growth. I apply some drops to the top of my head to help my hair grow and different drops to my lash line to give me fuller, thicker lashes. While we’re on the subject of hair, I may whip out the tweezers and grab a few chin hairs, go over my mustache, and check the mole on my cheek that likes to sprout hairs.

Now we’re on to flossing. As we get older, our teeth wear away. As a result, the space between them increases, and more food gets caught in there. I view it as a midnight snack. I wonder how many Weight Watchers points the food stuck in my teeth counts for. Zero, because I already counted that food! It’s like a freebie!

After flossing my teeth, I brush them with toothpaste for sensitive teeth because my gums are receding. Then I wash my face and moisturize the hell out of it, because it too, is drying up. I also apply a special cream to my eyes, in the vain hope of minimizing wrinkles and puffiness.

You may think I’m finished now, and I am, but only in the bathroom. Once I’m tucked in bed, I have to take my blood pressure medication and put lubricating drops in my eyes.  While I’m at it, I apply Aquaphor to my lips. Then I have some options: hand cream? Yes. Something to help me sleep? Perhaps. Some lotion for my dry and cracking feet? Why not? Do I have a glass of fresh water at the ready in case I wake up with a troublesome tickle in my throat? Check. Now I’m finally ready to turn out the light, but this whole routine has taken so long, it’s practically time to wake up.