I was family-less this weekend. Not really by choice but rather by circumstance. Brian had a bachelor party in Chicago and his mom offered to take the kids. At first I wanted to decline. I hate not being with the kids on a weekend in July. Summer is so short and there's so many memories to be made. But with the heat soaring that week and everyone getting a little stir crazy and short with one another, Brian convinced me a little break from it all might be nice. So I accepted.
I did get some house projects done. I walked through an antique store. And I phoned in some appointments I'd been meaning to make. I got to go to a party without being distracted. I went to mass by myself. The early one, even. And I read a lot.
But mostly I felt sad by the empty quiet of our house and all the Facebook statuses describing family weekend plans from all my friends.
It's so nice, and good even, to have time away by myself. And sometimes it's not. It's just one of those things where you have to find the balance.
When I went to pick up the kids on Sunday, William told me he "missed me so much last night" and that he "told Nana I was ready to go home."
My heart pounded with guilt. That is an absolute first for he, who loves to have sleepovers at other people's houses.
When I went to bed on Sunday night I sulked at the time lost. But when I woke on Monday I felt renewed. The oppressing heat was gone. Lucy was in a good mood. (See? I think the crab in her only comes out in the heat.) William was in a good mood. Brian delayed leaving for work by 15 minutes. Fifteen minutes to sip our coffee at the dining room table. Fifteen minutes to reconnect. Fifteen minutes made all the difference.
I took the kids to the park early. They ate lunch and took good naps. For dinner we had pork chops on the grill and Minnesota-grown corn-on-the-cob. Then we pranced out into the backyard until the sun went down and the mosquitoes got the best of us.
Summer is just one of those seasons I hold with an iron fist. Not wanting to waste a drop of sunlight. Sometimes I feel a little crazy when I demand that time. And sometimes I feel crazy for not demanding more of it.
I did get some house projects done. I walked through an antique store. And I phoned in some appointments I'd been meaning to make. I got to go to a party without being distracted. I went to mass by myself. The early one, even. And I read a lot.
But mostly I felt sad by the empty quiet of our house and all the Facebook statuses describing family weekend plans from all my friends.
It's so nice, and good even, to have time away by myself. And sometimes it's not. It's just one of those things where you have to find the balance.
When I went to pick up the kids on Sunday, William told me he "missed me so much last night" and that he "told Nana I was ready to go home."
My heart pounded with guilt. That is an absolute first for he, who loves to have sleepovers at other people's houses.
When I went to bed on Sunday night I sulked at the time lost. But when I woke on Monday I felt renewed. The oppressing heat was gone. Lucy was in a good mood. (See? I think the crab in her only comes out in the heat.) William was in a good mood. Brian delayed leaving for work by 15 minutes. Fifteen minutes to sip our coffee at the dining room table. Fifteen minutes to reconnect. Fifteen minutes made all the difference.
I took the kids to the park early. They ate lunch and took good naps. For dinner we had pork chops on the grill and Minnesota-grown corn-on-the-cob. Then we pranced out into the backyard until the sun went down and the mosquitoes got the best of us.
Summer is just one of those seasons I hold with an iron fist. Not wanting to waste a drop of sunlight. Sometimes I feel a little crazy when I demand that time. And sometimes I feel crazy for not demanding more of it.
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