I sent him for his very first sleepover when my husband was also away so I could have a night of total freedom from responsibility. But the following morning, after waking up to meditate and then climbing back into bed with a cup of tea and a meringue-frosted cupcake, I found myself pacing the house with nothing I would rather do but go and fetch him so we could have a bit of fun together. I actually missed him. It was quite a shock.
After all those evenings out and days when I went to work … when I would leave the house, gripping the steering wheel until my knuckles turned white and, with racing heart and quickened breath, round the corner out of Hout Bay on two wheels, shrieking and hollering about being free … I’ve reached a point of freedom that doesn’t require being away from my child. Maybe it’s because he became more of a human, or maybe it’s because I did, but I actually love being around him. When I go out, I look forward to getting back home to cuddle his sleeping form and feel his warm breath on my cheek when I kiss him goodnight and, when I go to work, I look forward to the light relief of rolling on the lawn with him when I get home.
Sure, I still enjoy my times away from him, but I am now confident that I will always return.
Related posts:
So true.