Monday, May 19, 2008
The Children and Playkids
I would love to tell y'all what a wonderful time we had at our Luncheon this weekend, meeting and hanging out with Roxanne St. Claire, celebrating PC's first sale with close friends and the Mavens, but I had a realization last night: having the Monday blogging spot, I tend to tell y'all all about our weekend fun and no one else gets to blog about it. Easy and fun for me, not as fun for the other Playfriends. I'll leave them to tell you all about it later this week. Although, BTW, Roxanne is the sweetest person! She's helpful, funny, and just wonderful to hang around. It was great to meet her after hearing so much about her from PM. Squeee!
Instead I'll tell you a little story about AFTER I got home. I didn't get back to the house this weekend until after my children were in bed Saturday night. Driving home was an adventure in and of itself. (Deb, my hubby says thanks for the heads-up on the wine! He's grateful!) But after talking over our weekends with the hubby, I crashed around 11:30pm. Nothing invaded my sleep from that point—not a noise or movement. I don't think I shifted my position by even a centimeter, I was so dead asleep. But at 4:30am, I blinked awake without a clue as to why my heart was suddenly racing and my ears were searching for sound.
Suddenly, I heard a faint and familiar cry. My son. Suffice it to say, both of my children have gone through periods where, instead of waking up naturally and going potty in the middle of the night, their bodies don't wake up enough for them to navigate the dark, and they wander around in their rooms trying to figure out how to get to the bathroom. They cry because they are actually still asleep.
Realizing what was happening, I stumbled from the bed, crossed the hall, and called out to him. Finding him more by instinct than sight, I picked him up and we headed for the bathroom. Now, I can describe this, because he's 3, though he'll probably kill me later in life. I settled him on the toilet, then sat on the rim of the tub until he finished, because he was swaying, still drowsy enough to act drunk, which is SO CUTE on a kid that age. :)
Then the sweetest thing happened. All of a sudden, he seemed to realize it was Mommy there beside him. The Mommy he hadn't seen all weekend and didn't know was home. He turned to look at me, eyes glassy and dazed, and this HUGE grin broke out on his face. My heart contracted, and I couldn't help smiling back. He was so happy to see me.
Then his gaze wandered around aimlessly for a few minutes, finally settling back on me, and he tossed out that same grin. I had to stifle a laugh this time, because it reminded me of the type of drunk that gets all touchy feely when he's liquored up. (I know, don't hate me because I've compared my child with a lush. It was just funny!)
He repeated this action several times before his eyes started drifting closed. As I snuggled his body close to mine, carried him back to bed, and tucked him under the covers, I sported a little smile of my own. I'd had a great time out with my friends, but he made me so happy to be home....
What makes you grateful to be home?