Weekends are often a mixed bag around here. There are moments of great trial - like most of Saturday when I felt like it was us against Brandon - constantly. Saturday was Time Out Hell, a.k.a., not fun. There are moments of great fun - like much of Sunday when we were in tune with each other in a way that feels so rare these days. Sunday was genuinely and truly fun. There was laughter and smiles and pure enjoyment and lots of play with no time outs.
Then comes Monday, which is a challenge every week, because my dear little boy wants to stay with Mommy and Daddy. Walking away from the car to go climb on the bus can be heartbreaking for the first couple days of the week as I know Matt is dealing with tears and upset that I leave behind. This morning was no different.
Monday mornings make Monday evenings so much sweeter. I was sitting on the bus just a little while time ago reading through my RSS feeds when the image of a man holding a baby popped onto my iPhone’s screen. I don’t know if it was the image or the baby or just a need to have a connection with Brandon at that moment, but I was overwhelmed with the compulsion to hold him. To take him in my arms and hug him close to me.
Right then. I still feel it.
Now I sit here writing about this unfulfilled longing, hoping that he’s in a “Sunday” mood when he comes home so I can give him the hug that I need.