Since having Jack, I've had very little time in which to be truly alone. I don't say this in a grumpy way. I love my kids, and Brad and I consciously chose to have me stay at home with them before we ever became parents. I don't regret this decision at all, and I'm thankful to Brad for shouldering the burden of being the only one bringing home a paycheck. That being said, there are times when I need some time to be alone. It's not a want, it's a primal need. The kids are constantly crawling over me, asking to be held, needing pains assuaged, reassurance that I'll always be there. I love being that rock for them, but there are times when I just don't want to be touched anymore. Times that I don't want to take care of anyone else but myself. Times when I can sit down without having someone try to crawl into my lap, or poke me in the eyes and mouth. I know that there are many of you out there that understand what I'm saying. So, yesterday, Brad took over as primary caretaker for the children, and I thoroughly enjoyed myself, and more importantly, the kids enjoyed spending time with Brad. Again this morning, Brad took the kids to his parents' house as his normally does, and while I've enjoyed more time to myself, I miss my boys. And there lies the most important part of time alone. When we are reunited, I am so ready to enjoy the cuddles and giggles. I'm better prepared the handle Jack's moments of inner turmoil, and Cy's meltdowns at our inability in to understand what he's trying to communicate.
I'm sitting here on the couch, awaiting the arrival of my kids, and I feel so ready for it.
How could you not want snuggles from this baby?
I love exploring the world through Jack's eyes.
