I’ve had a lot on my mind over the past couple of weeks, and it’s certainly taken a toll on me. I’ve been waking up in the middle of the night, tossing and turning and have had that awful feeling of impending doom rooted deep in my chest. Anxiety’s fun, hey? Haaaaaaaaaaa.
After a week long momcation from F, I was less frazzled. I spent the long weekend on the beach with him, soaking up the sun but we were back to reality far too quickly. We pushed through the week, towards the promise of a quiet weekend at home. We hung out on the couch together on Friday night, and spent Saturday in separate rooms – meeting up for snacks and meals and the occasional snuggle.
I was curled up on the love seat watching TV and F was at the dining room table finishing up his bedtime snack when he came over and asked if he could sit with me. While we lay across from one another, the iPad battery finally wore out and he asked if we could charge it. And then, I reached towards him and told him to snuggle with me. I expected a minute or two of snuggling, followed by him quickly finding something new to do. Instead, he lay his head on my chest and slowly slipped into a deep, deep sleep.
Pinned and uncomfortable under a sweaty preschooler, I stayed on my the couch like that for almost an hour.
I don’t remember the last time that F lay on my chest and slept, and I was oblivious to how much I missed those moments. As he grows and our lives get busier, we haven’t made time for that. But that needs to change.