He’s back. Tucked into his crib with fresh sheets, all sweet smelling after a bath, tired after a busy travel day. The sadness felt by me and the elation felt by his grandparents a week ago was completely reversed this afternoon. I know he wore them out but they wouldn’t have traded last week for the world. And despite my head full of snot and raspy cough, I did manage to accomplish a few things that I couldn’t normally do with him here.
He is enamored by my dad. My mother said he never left his side when he was at the house. So my biggest fear was that he’d see me after a week apart and say, “go ‘way mama!” much like he says, “go ‘way daddy” whenever my husband comes home from work. He’s a mama’s boy at the moment… When I approached him at our meeting spot halfway between their house and ours he was chatting with grandma and eating a PB&J sandwich. He saw me, fixed his eyes on my face, kept chewing, and very slowly I saw the corners of his full mouth turn up into a shy smile. Then he ran over and wrapped his sticky hands around my legs. Whew, my heart couldn’t have taken any rejection at that moment.
So we took possession of his travel gear, said our thanks and good-byes, and headed home. Within an hour of being back in familiar territory he had reacquainted himself with all of his toys, pulled half a roll of toilet paper from the downstairs bathroom to the family room (in one long piece, impressive), and tried to stick a piece of dry penne pasta into a light socket we hadn’t yet re-covered. Since I’m not quite recovered from my massive cold, four hours with the little guy wore me out. But despite the hurricane aftermath that is my downstairs, I feel normal again. He is home, it is messy, and I am tired. Love.