I am a working woman now and my days seem to fly by, even though summer is here. The kids are spending most of their days with a trusted “sitter” and someone who has become a friend since we’ve known her, beginning at 16 years of age (she is now 22). While I miss those typical carefree days of summer that I knew when they were younger, I also know that they are pretty much gone. Sure, they’ve already done water balloons and sprinkler running on my watch. We’ve been to the pool and the park near our house, to climb trees and cut trails through the wilderness. We’ve started summer journals and updated the Minecraft app on devices. We’ve watched several more episodes of The Middle.
But still.
I feel like I have to steal moments now. I yearn to take it all in, in a way I did not before. They are gone from me part of the week. They are growing with every day and sleep and on the nights that I am privileged enough to tuck them in, I notice. I kiss them goodnight and tell them how much I love them. Because the next night they will be in a different bed and I absolutely CANNOT have them thinking it is because I do not love them.
The other day we made our way to the local children’s museum, after I got home from my office job (there’s another job too.) They tried to go the day before with the sitter but it was closed, so I wanted to curb their large bubble-making craving and I took them myself. We left the house with their own money in tow so they could be sure to buy something in the gift shop that technically I did not have to pay for (unless you count the time it took to decide because yeah, time = money). For just a bit, it felt like the “old days”. The days when I was still married to their father and a SAHM. Except this time I was better dressed and more rested. And they were older and there was no need for any snacks or strollers. Even the whining was at a minimum.
My life has changed dramatically in the last eight months but I am determined not to miss the fact that so have they, even in positive ways, believe it or not.
They are bigger and better. They are independent and smart. They are more resilient than I give them credit for. They can be gone from me in the museum for 10 or 20 minutes and I know they will return to my side, because they were just doing their own thing for a bit. They can make me laugh so hard when they are on “camera” in the pretend newsroom at the museum, and decide that getting in front of the camera and sticking out their tongues is funnier than reporting the fake weather.
I marvel at their ability to carry on like everything is mostly normal. As if their worlds were not rocked several months ago. Perhaps it is because they know they are loved no matter what. I will admit, we (me and their father) have both done a decent job of that.
And in the end, that’s all that really matters.
P.S. I was recently featured on Mamalode again with a piece about my feelings about when the kids are not here, with me. I hope you’ll click over and read! Thank you!
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