I'm trying not to think about when Levi leaves. Except that each day it gets a little closer, and I find it just that much harder to breathe. We do our daily stuff. We go to the park, the library, the grocery store. We do laundry, fix meals...and sometimes even clean up. I try to act normal. And, mostly, I think I do. Heck there are even days (ahem, like today) when I spend the later half wishing bedtime would hurry up.* That's pretty normal, right?
Then bedtime arrives, and as usual he insists on sleeping with something strange.** The sheep are counted and he falls fast asleep. I linger just a bit. That sweet face makes the cruddy parts of the day fade. I remember instead the way he so gently stroked Sophia's cheek as she was falling asleep, "Oh, sweet baby." he said, "You're so tired."
As I step out of the bedroom to enjoy that coveted me time, I find his treasures all over the house. Little reminders of him scattered about.
As I step out of the bedroom to enjoy that coveted me time, I find his treasures all over the house. Little reminders of him scattered about.
I'm going to miss that. All of it. Even the annoying parts...okay, maybe not the parts where I end up with bruises...but all of the other stuff...yes.
Postscriptiness:
*I blame it on dragging the kids to two grocery stores and then being whopped in the head with a very heavy toy. That would make any mama ready for bedtime...right?
**There's a plastic caterpillar in the soap box. Doesn't everyone sleep with those?
