After a nearly sleepless night on account of the baby, it was a long Sunday.
I love spending the weekends with my kids, but days like today can test the reserves of patience. While gathering basil and oregano from the garden for dinner with my oldest son, he was trying to tell me something and admittedly I was a bit distracted and wasn’t paying attention. After missing his repeated questions, I apologized and said I was tired.
It was then when my oldest son replied, “Are you saying you’re tired of me?”
It would have been dagger to the heart, were it not such a comical misunderstanding. After taking him up in my arms, I assured him that I would never be tired of him for as long as I lived. I chuckled out loud thinking how crazy adult concerns must seem.
In the end the kids got to bed, and mommy and I got a few minutes of quiet before cleaning up the house and getting ready for the week ahead.
And so tomorrow will be Monday. We’ll get up, have breakfast and get ready for summer camp. I’ll drop them off and revel in a few hours peace while I buckle down for work.
By lunchtime, I’ll be missing them again; eager to pick them up and hear how their day went.
After all, I can always go to bed early sometime.
These days with my young kids I’ll never have again.
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