15 and a half years ago I became a mom.
I am pretty sure 15 and three-quarters of a year ago was the last time I was alone.
I was better at it back then.
Friday night my fella started his spring break. Thanks to some generous friends he’s been a beach bum ever since.
Sunday I dropped off my chunka-munka for the week.
Monday morning my mini-me took off for her adventure.
5 days of no carpooling. No practice. No what’s for dinner and no eye-rolling and sulking when I answer. No bickering. No racing to daycare at the start of the day or at the end of it. No 9pm dinners because of late softball games. No homework checks. No one busting into the bathroom. No one dangling her chubby feet over the edge of the tub when I bathed. No cereal dropped on my bedroom floor–yes-cereal with milk-although I can still smell the milk from where it seeped into the grooves of my nightstand.
Bliss-right? Okay-the no spilt cereal IS bliss.
Wrong. (Except the cereal-that was just vile!)
I miss the pounding of feet on the stairs. Turns out I don’t like sitting in my chair alone. It’s much more cozy with 2 or 3 of us angling for space. The TV is too loud without little miss slurping on her thumb while in my lap all soft and sweet after her night bath. The bath she conned me into when she “accidentally” fell in while I was bathing. I even miss hearing the word Momma 75 times in 20 minutes.
I miss my big girl telling me about her day. The quizzes she aced, the feats she nailed in PE and the latest and greatest thing that her beau said. I’ll never admit to to her but I miss her flipping her hair and mouthing off.
My son’s 1/2 smile makes the day better. Not seeing it makes a quiet day even longer. I miss seeing him hug his baby sister. And oh how I miss watching the 2 of them trudge up the stairs at the end of the night-him holding her and her grinning happily.
I don’t want blissfully quiet nights with no one to worry about but me. I don’t want freedom. I want my loud, chaotic and messy life back. The best part of me is the mommy in me. The other part of me, well let’s me honest, is just boring. Even the dog is bored with me.