I left my children this weekend. Just for three nights, that is. But it was the first time in five years that I left them for more than one night. And, I was out of town. Way out of town, in fact. But I wasn’t completely childless. I was visiting my sister and her 9-week-old daughter in Minnesota.
I was quite apprehensive prior to my departure. How would they do? One had a sinus infection. One just was diagnosed with asthma. I knew my husband, with help from my mom, would be just fine. How would I be?
Needless to say, with a baby in my sister’s home I didn’t get much sleep. But I did find myself relaxing - despite the mountains of laundry and organizing we did. It was nice to do exactly what needed to be done at the time without distractions. My two toddlers, precious (”Mommy play with me”) and not-quite independent (”I want a glass of water, please”) keep me busy. But in the airport and on the plane, I managed to completely finish an entire book. And it did not start, “Brown bear, brown bear, what do you see?”
I did find appreciation in my children’s ages while I was away. They both usually sleep through the night. They both can dress themselves. And, they’re both potty trained (I haven’t changed that many diapers in years!).
My reunion was sweet. My son saw me when I walked in with the suitcases and said, “Where did you go?” My daughter screamed gleefully and wouldn’t let me go for a long time, grinning from ear-to-ear. “You’re back?” she asked. “Yes, mommy’s back.”
