The script is supposed to go like this: You raise your children. They leave the nest. After a pause, grandchildren show up. It’s cootchie coo all over again.

That’s the conventional scenario. I’m sure it plays out for many baby boomers.

But not for me. My family’s story line does not march directly to cootchie coo.

The adult children in my immediate family circle are not quick to marry (that’s assuming they even embrace the concept). Instead, there are returns to the nest for refresher stops on their path to full independence.

Our house was full this summer as Cheryl’s two oldest children returned home to regroup for the next stage of their lives. A family of three suddenly became a family of five.

Cheryl appreciated having another opportunity to be there for her twenty-somethings. A mom is a mom is a mom always.

I came at it differently. I was not the mom, certainly, nor was I the dad. I was the step-dad.

I didn’t feel warm fuzzies. I felt claustrophobia.

People were suddenly bumping into each other in the kitchen. The TV was playing movies when normally it would be quiet. Opportunities for hearing my music became few.

And then there was the computer. On-line access became a competitive sport. Like planes circling SFO in a heavy fog, we stacked up waiting to get on the Web.

What had become of my domestic tranquility?

Get a grip, Cheryl said. I was not a hot house flower. I can withstand an assault on my peace and quiet if I put my mind to it.

I didn’t like her message. Accept new life circumstance not of my making? Is this some new Buddhist thing?

Grrrr.

Of course, she had a point. There’s no denying reality. As much as I might want to live a hermit’s life ....

Rummaging around in my frazzled psyche, I found the power to lighten up. Life is still good, I told myself. I’d been spending too much time on the computer anyway.

Besides, if I can’t handle this blip in family dynamics, how will I survive when a major earthquake levels our house and I have to camp on the front lawn and dig a pit latrine in the back?

Or when a fire guts the house and destroys every sacred memento I own and I have to start over again as a newly minted man without a single family photo.

I could go on.

Days passed. Accommodations were made. And wouldn’t you know it,  positives from life as an expanded family presented themselves.

Conversations at dinner, on those occasions when we managed to corral everyone, were more entertaining than when it was just Jonathan, Cheryl and me doing the same-old, same-old.

A new Sunday morning ritual developed. Taking the papers with us, we all went out for coffee. We sat outdoors. We were relaxed. The news of the day sparked talk. Much was shared. These coffees became a highlight of the week.

Wouldn’t you know it, our expanded family arrangement did not last. As summer drew to a close, everything began changing again.

First, Napa schools reopened. Jonathan, who starts his high school day at 7 a.m. and goes into the night with water polo, began requiring a task force of adults to support his busy schedule.

Then last week Julia decamped for New York City, specifically the arrondissement of Brooklyn. She will experiment with life in the big city as she pursues her career as a cartoonist. She has not one, but two books that will be published this fall.

We shrink further with Josh returning to San Francisco for college classes during the week.

Many evenings there are now just one or two bodies knocking about. The house seems very large, the refrigerator half empty. The computer is there for the asking.

Now that the family surge is over, I’ve overheard talk about how to fill the void.

Did I hear someone say kittens?

Kevin can be reached at 256-2217 or Napa Valley Register,  P.O. Box 150, Napa 94559 or kcourtney@napanews.com