I woke up on my own this morning at 7:30.
I went out to a quiet living room, fixed some coffee and oatmeal.
I watched the news and actually heard what they were saying.
I caught up on all my blog reading.
And now, at 11 a.m., I am officially bored and missing him.
My son went to Indiana last night after the fireworks to spend a few days with his grandparents. I was looking forward to today. I thought I’d sleep as long as I pleased, but was bright-eyed and bushy tailed at 7:30. (My husband however has taken full advantage and is still snoozing.)
I thought I’d like the peaceful morning. No spilled cereal to wipe up. There’s no potty training to tackle. I don’t even have any housework to do since I did it all before the 4th.
I thought maybe I’d go some place fun, but can’t think of anywhere that I especially want to go.
Oh, when my husband wakes up, if he doesn’t sleep straight through ’til tomorrow, I’ll enjoy spending some rare alone time with him. And I will feel relaxed and refreshed tomorrow. Ready to face another day of potty training.
But I still miss my son. There was no big bear hug and slobbery kiss this morning. No, “Mommy, I love you!” I haven’t heard any laughter or delighted shrieking. I feel all out of sorts not having to my usual mommie responsibilities to do. I can’t remember what life was like with out him.
I remember when my son was a baby and there were hundreds of feedings and diaper changes and very little sleeping, I was thrilled to leave him in the care of a trusted someone else, even for an hour. I would watch the clock and count the minutes until I could escape the grind of new motherhood.
Then, one day, that little blob started to smile back when I would smile. And now almost four years later we have full-blown conversations, and he makes jokes and he teases and even comforts and empathizes sometimes. Yes, babies are sweet and precious, but I love these pre-school years. It’s amazing to watch his little personality develop. It seems like every day I learn something new about what he does or doesn’t like, or what makes him tick. We don’t just have a one-sided relationship anymore. When I say, “I love you,” he says it back, and means it.
He’ll be back tomorrow, and I’ll be telling him to stop jumping on the couch and chasing the dogs with a Nerf bat. It won’t be quiet, and there will be plenty of messes to clean up. But sometime tomorrow, in the midst of all the craziness, he’ll stop for a minute and flash me one of those big, bright, sparkly smiles that fills my heart heat so full it could burst. And it will all be worth it.