Too cool for school.
Zach and I recently took an absolutely amazing trip to Turks and Caicos. Every day we were there was a total dream. Perfect, quiet, (nearly) stress free.
To get that stress free environment, we went without Alex. So, we had an entire week away from our little dude. No one to wake us up at ungodly o’clock. No one to ask us for more food because he’s still hungry at every hour of the day. No one to whine about some random fact of life.
It was wonderful.
Don’t get me wrong: I love my kid. Love love love my kid. He is truly the most amazing person in my life. But sometimes? Sometimes a break is nice. Sometimes a break is needed.
I missed my little guy by the end of the week. While we were away, Zach’s parents had him for the weekend and my mother took care of him at our house during the week. We hoped this would give him some semblance of normalcy: sleeping in his bed, eating his normal breakfast, driving the same short distance to school.
The week didn’t end up quite so normal, though. Overnight Tuesday, Alex came down with a stomach bug. Barfing barfing everywhere.
MOMMY GUILT, ACTIVATE.
I wished I could be with him. He was sick, and here I was drinking rum punch, reading books on the beach, and doing whatever I wanted. Alex ended up staying home for the rest of the week, never quite recovering until Friday.
My poor mother.
But. She made it through. Alex made it through. We all made it through.
On our second night back, I was enjoying being home, back in our bed, when in the wee hours of the morning I heard Alex. I heard him in his room, getting out of bed. Then I heard the door creak open. Then I heard our door creak open.
He was crying, and running towards our bed. “I had a bad dream. It was a nightmare.”
We snuggled and hugged and his breathing slowed down. I asked him what his dream was about and he told me he didn’t want to talk about it. I asked if it was a scary dream, and he told me, “yeah, it was scary, but not, like, monster scary.”
It took the rest of the day, asking him a few additional times, to get him to tell me what his bad dream was about. “I dreamed that you and Daddy were leaving and you were never coming back to me.”
MOMMY GUILT, ACTIVATE.
So. It’s good to be home, and that dream, thank goodness, was a one time dream.
(But I’m still counting down to the next vacation.)