Here I go, sneaking around again. My kids are outside in the wading pool. Yack! Yes, the wading pool. Alone. I’m okay with that, even though I know not everyone would be. Or maybe its not such a big deal. Maybe I just spent way too much time on a certain mommy bulletin board with overly-opinionated, over-protective moms. Whatever.
I love that my girls are at the age where I can get a few things done around here, and I hate that they are growing up. Fun paradox, huh? I miss my big girl, as she runs in the house and up to her room, only to emerge again, reluctantly, at dinner time. And yet I so cherish being able to sit and read the paper before I start dinner. Read.the.paper. It’s almost like living in a parallel universe.
But they aren’t that old. Not entirely independant yet. Any minute now, the patio door will slide open and a broken heart will come pouring, gushing, through. Any minute now, my five minutes of mommy freedom will be ripped from me, and I’ll resent it. And be ever so grateful for it.