My return

I have tried to sit down and write from my lap top, but it never flows well when my fingers are on home row.  But give me a spiral notebook and a fine point pen and away I go.  I guess I'm old school that way.

So I left my son for the first time for a little vacation to visit my sister in Michigan.  Other than the occasional overnight at Grandma's house, I have never left home in his 22 months of life.  When I first planned the trip I was so excited to leave.  Not only to visit my sister,my wonderful niece and my brand new nephew, but also to leave all of my responsibilities behind.  I just wanted to go somewhere were I wasn't mom, wife, employee.  But as my departure day drew near I had these feelings of finality.  I found myself saying to my son to hug mom one last time.  How jacked up is that??

Any ways, once I got to the airport and on the plane I was fine.  And the entire time I was gone I texted my husband and talked to him on the phone and "talked" to my son on the phone.  I was never overcome with sadness or missing him desperately.  I take this as a good sign.  That I'm not co-dependent on him.

On my flight home I had a lay over in Cincinnati.  I got a text message from my husband with a picture of my son.  He was walking around the living room in my husband's work boots.  It melted my heart and all I could think or say way "My baby." 

I think this will be my reaction for the rest of his life.  When he sleeps in his car seat.  When he goes to school for the first time.  When he takes the football field.  When he graduates.  When he gets married and becomes a dad.  When he solves global warming and cures famine. 

My baby.

So, I got home late and everyone was in bed except the dogs.  The next morning I got up and ready for work anticipating his sweet face popping up from his bed.  All bright eyed and bushy tailed like his dad.  And that's what I got when I opened his door.  A sweet smiling face, ready to start the day.  I was a little over come and sad that he wasn't beside himself with my return.  But as he grabbed his ever present blanket and reached for me my heart melted all over again as it does a dozen times a day with him.  I picked him up and felt the full weight of his 22 months and caught a whiff of his sagging loaded diaper.

Awww, my baby.