I remember sitting in baggy pajamas knowing that only reruns of One Tree Hill lay ahead of me while my kid fought bedtime and thinking that I would never see the day. Never, ever.
Don’t get me wrong – we had date nights. My parents were more than willing to come over every few months and handle dinner and bedtime. My husband and I would slip off to dinner (sometimes a nice one) and a movie (if we could stay awake) and often Target (because that’s what old married people do). But we always came home and were on call the next morning by 6am when our little dude woke up.
Then this summer, the grandparents decided they wanted in on the overnight action. I’m not sure if it is because he’s almost four, he’s potty trained, and he can talk, but I’m guessing it’s the combination of all. Suddenly, our little guy was fielding sleepover invites from both sides of the family. They wanted him one night, sometimes the entire weekend. The first weekend alone, we went crazy.
As in, we went out to a fancy dinner and slept and slept until we didn’t think we could sleep anymore.
What is funny is that at the beginning of the summer, we were ecstatic with an entire weekend with just the two of us. But this past weekend when Grandma called, we only gave up one night. We wanted our little dude home with us. The weekends without him seemed lonely and pointless and empty.
It’s funny how the things we long for sometimes turn into what we fight against.
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