I laid in bed this morning, snuggly tucked under my Shiloh Inn blankets, refusing to get up. Dan was already getting dressed. I pondered.
Am I a bad mother for not missing my kids, for wanting to delay going back?
The part of my brain that constantly supplies guilt said "Yes! You cannot miss what you do not love. You obviously cannot love. You are broken."
Another part of of my brain said that I hadn't been away from them long enough to start to miss them. You are trained to send them away to school every day and on Sunday. They always come back. It's like faith. You know they are yours and even if you don't see them, they are with you.
I like the second voice in my head better.
And I did miss them, I found out when we got home. I missed their sweet faces. I missed their warm bodies and their own smells. I missed their arms around me. I may or may not have missed a certain someone's ability to juicily fart and belch at inopportune times, but I missed her. The boy isn't back yet. I saw him briefly at church. I miss him still.
I'm glad that they all got to have their own individual adventures this weekend. I am SO glad that I got to spend one on one time with Dan for 3 days. It was worth the missing.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment