Mom on the run: Final volleyball dinner leaves behind a mess, a little sorrow

Suddenly, oh, so suddenly, the front door slams -- "Bye!" "Bye! Thanks!" -- and silence falls -- thump! -- in my house. I stand in the kitchen, undecided, for just a minute. Sofa, for a well-deserved five-minute break, or kitchen, which is absolutely buried?

Kitchen, I decide. If I sit down, I might not get back up.

There's stuff piled all over the countertops, but I need to empty the sink before I can do anything else. So I start rinsing plates and loading the dishwasher while my husband and son get to work rearranging the furniture: "OK, now, careful," they lift and flip the table and carry it out of the dining room, through the kitchen and into the basement. Then they get to rotate the dining room table back to its regular spot and redistribute the chairs that were dragged in from all over the house.

Yes, all is askew after hosting the girls' school volleyball team dinner.

I started prep days ago. Shopping, of course, happened over the weekend, except for the few things I forgot and had to grab on the way home tonight. The two homemade macaroni and cheeses were assembled (but not baked) and refrigerated. Dessert was frosted yesterday. And today I rushed out of work and to the store and then home to frantically trim chicken, cook green beans, slice tomatoes. It seemed like a strange menu -- barbecued chicken sandwiches, mac & cheese, green bean casserole and chocolate cake -- but it was all by player request, so who am I to meddle?

I was just pulling the first pieces of chicken off the grill when the girls started streaming into the house. Mostly they arrived together, as girls do: there would be a bark as Jack the dog alerted us to a strange car, then a creak of the screen door, a "Hi! We're here!" followed by the slam of the door springing back and then the squeal and chatter of teenage girls.

Finally, "Come and get it!" The girls loaded their plates in the kitchen -- no room for anything other than buffet-style with this crew -- grabbed lemonade and green tea and one milk (Malorie!), and traipsed into the dining room to eat … and chat and laugh and joke and tease.

Me, I rushed around. Refilled pitchers. Set out more silverware. Worried about having enough macaroni and cheese. Remembered mayonnaise and threw it onto the table at the last minute.

It was a busy hour of organizing and cooking, a fun five minutes of greeting, and a frenzied 20 minutes of feeding the players. And now … it's over. Whoosh! The house is in much better condition than it used to be after little-kid birthday parties -- big kids leave a lot less mess on the floor -- but still, there's work to do.

And I tackle it with a tinge of blue: we just hosted our last volleyball team dinner. Ever. My daughter's a senior, the season is half over, and all dinner dates are filled. Sure, we may host other team dinners in the future -- ice hockey and boys' lacrosse (I'm thinking I'll have to double the food!) -- but this team, these girls, who we've cheered on and watched grow, my own volleyball player, this is it.

I could cry, thinking about it. Oh, how quickly these years have gone! But then all the dishes left lying on the table are carried in, and I'm too busy to be sad.

OHS volleyball team: thank you, thank you for all the good times. Amanda, Brooke, Casey, Gabbie, Georgette, Kamille, Malorie, Melissa, Missy, Rachel, Sara, Sarah, Tina: best of luck to you all. You are wonderful young women, and I have so enjoyed watching you grow. I can't put into words how much I will miss you and your games … and even the mess after big team dinners.

Lianne Wilkens lives with her family in Manassas. She can be reached at liannewilkens@ hotmail.com, or follow her on Twitter @MessengerMOTR.