I Miss My Kids When They Are Not With Me

I went to a doctor’s appointment and came back to big hugs and kisses like I was gone more than the short hour that took me there and back.

“Mommy, I miss you,” my two-year-old said, hugging my legs.

“Aww, I missed you, too.”

Because the truth is I do miss them, too.

I miss them when I meet a friend for dinner.

I find myself only talking about them and wondering what they’re doing in-between conversation and bites of food.

I Miss Them When They’re At School, And I Finally Get A Minute To Breathe.

Because all I can do is breathe them 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭:

I’m wondering if they’re okay,

If they made friends,

And if their test went well.

It doesn’t stop.

I miss them when I get into bed and find myself scrolling through my photos, looking at pictures from the day or years ago when I could fit them onto my chest.

And I barely remember my life before they came crashing into my world and became my constant companions,

And I Don’t Want To.

Because even though I’m knee-deep in the tantrums.

Finding glitter in my belly button,

And cleaning up scrambled eggs off the kitchen floor.

I’m also knee-deep in not-wiped-off kisses,

Wanted hugs,

The toothless grins,

All of it.

And I Love It Here.

Time goes way too fast.

And one day, I’m rocking a colicky newborn, and the next day that same newborn is starting kindergarten.

And sometimes, I do wish the days to be over so I can get some downtime,

Because I’m human.

But as they’re getting older, I know we’ll be spending less and less time together.

And the truth is,

Every time we’re apart,

I do miss them, too,

Probably more than they miss me.

And I always will.

This post was written by Danielle Sherman-Lazar From Living FULL. For more of her work, follow her on Facebook and Instagram.

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