A Sort of Confession

I have to admit, I was sort of glad to see the boys go for two weeks- for many reasons.

The first being that my last nerve ending was frayed. Frayed like the best jeans you've ever loved, but washed too many times. Sometimes I feel like life becomes a cacophony and my soul cannot take it. I want to cover my ears. Close my eyes. Too much input into my brain.

 I have always been this way. I was the kid who cried at ever birthday party. I am one of those people who gets a little frazzled in department stores.

I was looking forward to the alone time. To the quiet. Is that a bad thing? I don't think so. This time will allow me to be a better mom in the future. It has given me time to unwind. It has given me time to appreciate the boys, who I love more than anything. It has been MY time, but in the end, it is really THEIR time too.

A tangle of bikes is waiting for the boys to come back home.

The second reason is this was good family time for the boys. It was a chance to be immersed in cousins, aunts, uncles, and grandparents. And surely, that is a good thing! The boys have been spending the days shooting and riding, playing hard and falling asleep early. That's GOOD stuff for their souls.

The gang in April, when they came to visit.

Jason has been missing me. My sweet oldest boy, just getting ready to turn 8, has been crying a lot, so my sister has said. I have found myself tearful a time or two. Two weeks is a long time to be away, heaven in some ways, hell in another. Adam, at 5, is probably just going with the flow. His sense of time is a bit different than Jason's, I would imagine. I'll bet that both boys will be a bit clingy when they get home. And that's OK. Because I'll be clinging right back.

Mackworth Island, ME. Photo courtesy of Vicki Lund Photography.

hugs- Lee