I Miss My Little Man

I miss my little man. When my mom had originally said she wanted to take my 3-½ yr old for a week every summer (she’s a high school counselor and gets most of summer off) I thought it sounded like a great idea. This year especially I was looking forward to it so that my husband and I could get some much needed couple time before we become a family of four.

Sunday was great, we only made one comment on how we are usually entertained by him before bed and we’re going to have to come up with something else for the next week. By Monday night we had figured it out and were having fun. I, of course, called at least twice a day to say good morning and good night but Trysten was obviously having too much fun because for the most part he refused to talk to me.

Wednesday night was what we had envisioned the week to look like; we went to a farewell party for Zach’s boss and then went to a bar with two other couples and a singleton. It was admittedly a lot of fun but I was saddened while driving home when I realized I wouldn’t get to look in on a blissfully sleeping little boy when I arrived back home.

I called him today (Thursday) more than a couple times and he’s had a lot to say each time. I think it’s safe to say we are officially missing each other immensely and I’m not only counting the days now but also the hours. It’s not that I don’t love the alone time with my husband; in fact, when we’re hanging out together it makes it incredibly easier to survive without my son. However, it’s times away from the both of them that I reflect on just what I miss about the boy.

In the morning the only thing waking me up now is a kicking baby who wants fed, I no longer hear the pounding on the door of my Trysten Zachary. I miss his first smile when I come in to get him and the hug he so willingly shares when I’m too tired to move. I miss his reenactments of Power Rangers when I open the door after taking a shower and I miss the way he plays with his hair while he drinks his first morning’s glass of apple juice. I miss his giggle when I let the puppies in and the way he yells, “No, Stotle!” whenever our obese lab tries to sneak a few Lucky Charms. The “Bye mommy, have a good day, I wuv you,” is considerably better than the silence I leave before work without Trysten.

I drive by his daycare now and resist the very powerful urge to pull in and see if some other kid will come running to me the way Trysten does; arms stretched out ready for a hug while he runs the 40 paces to me. I miss hearing every detail about his day and trying to decide which ones were just figments of his miraculous imagination and which ones are really part of his every day life. Getting home and having him help me water the flowers; sitting on the counter while I cook; negotiating every bite for dinner; twirling his hair while drinking his milk. “Two more minutes mommy,” as he bats his long eyelashes knowing full well I’ve never been able to resist him or his daddy when they do that.

But I really miss bedtime; I really, really miss bedtime. Giving him a bath and watching his whole body prune-icize. The way he delights in the water and the bubbles and the toys is sheer joy to watch. Getting him out and snuggling with him in his towel. The smell of his lotion makes me remember him as a baby; I catch my self sneaking sniffs periodically throughout the rest of the night. Lying down with him in his bed as we read Harry Potter (okay, I read and he lays on my belly pretending to listen). Hearing his voice as he prays to His maker to watch over him, his baby, his mommy and daddy and his poopers (puppies). And then when he turns to me and plays with my hair. He giggles when it goes in my eyes and will stay there playing with it as long as I let him. Admittedly it’s hard to turn away so bedtime can last quite long when I’m feeling like I need the extra attention. But then to turn around as I walk out of his room and hear, “I wuv you mommy!” as he turns in bed and pulls the covers under his chin. I even miss the devious tricks plays by calling us up after that to go to the bathroom or wipe his nose.

I realize it’s a blessing to have parents (and sister) who want to take my son for a week and spoil him beyond belief. It’s good for them both to see each other so much. It’s even good for Zach and I to remind us of why we first fell in love and learn to appreciate that and hold on to that throughout the rest of the year. But I do miss my little man and I can’t help but be a bit jealous of my family who has seen him every day this week.

So pray for my state of mind for the next fifty hours of my life. And pray that I might remember how much I even miss when he calls me into the bathroom to help him wipe his butt upon his return.