This Saturday, my parents took Riley for the night. We’ve only been separated overnight once before, when we went to Key West.
I prepared bags of clothes, toys, books, blankets that smell like home, his favorite foods and drinks. I knew he’d have a great time, but as the pick-up time got closer, it got harder. I recently told a friend of mine who is contemplating having children that I don’t know what we did before we had Riley.
Since having him, I’ve gotten totally accustomed to:
Shrieking, yelling and occasional crying (him not me….usually)
Three toothbrushes in the toothbrush holder
Constantly tripping over tiny shoes and loud, obnoxious toys
Always worrying about another little person, before worrying about myself or my needs. Did he eat? Does he need to be changed? Is he sticking his fingers in electrical outlets? Tormenting the poor dog? Oh yeah, have I eaten? (I recently said to myself, alone in the car, “I can’t believe I’ve become the type of person who forgets to eat. I never thought I’d see the day.”)
Constantly washing out sippy cups
Piles of laundry
Waking up to our automatic alarm clock whose crib is in the next room.
I’ve got to tell you – waking up to sunshine and silence and looking at the clock to see 8:00 felt pretty darn good. But not nearly as good as the feeling of hugging that little boy after 24 hours without him.