My father recently had open-heart surgery, so I flew out to visit him and help out a little during his recovery.  Even though he’s doing great, and better than I imagined he would be, it was hard to see my father so helpless.  This is a man who doesn’t sit still for long, doesn’t like being at the mercy of others.  I was glad I was able to help out in his recovery.  My being there gave him someone else to chat with, my step-mother a supervisor for my father so that she could get out of the house for a while, and the dog someone to walk and play with him. 

The upside to this trip was four child-free days.  I feel like I should have missed my kids more.  And I did miss them:  their little personalities, awesome smiles, hugs, and little voices. But I didn’t miss the headache pain in the ass of all the work that comes with them.  Does that make me a horrible parent?  This is where I feel my husband is a better equipped parent.  I think he loves every bit of child rearing, and he takes the good with the bad in the same stride.  Me?  I get a little more burnt out a bit easier.  Don’t get me wrong.  I still love them with every fiber of my being and can’t wait to see them again.  They mean the world to me.  And my amazing husband does, too.  Perhaps every parent just needs a break every now and then.  It was wonderful to get to wake up whenever I wanted to (even if I was just “sleeping in” until 8am), to eat when I wanted to, and not feel beholden to anyone else’s demands.  Get a renewed sense it what quiet is like. I think when you spend an enormous amount of time with someone, you can’t really know what it’s like to miss them until you’re gone longer than 10+ hours. And you can’t really appreciate what you have, either.  I know that once I see them, I will be hit with longing to cuddle and smooch them until they can’t stand it anymore.  Until then, I will soak up every kid-less moment, read without distraction, and enjoy missing them.