I miss my son like crazy. Joey took me on a trip this weekend (Santa Cruz! Amazing!) so I didn't see Ethan all weekend and then two times this week he fell asleep on the way home from babysitters and didn't wake up all evening, sleeping right on into the night.
I go in to see if by opening the door I will wake him up, but he just stirs, and then breaths deep. I dip down and smell his sweaty cheeks and I want to cry.
That is what he is doing now. Sleeping. I feel all depressed, like my dog died, only worse because he is my baby and he is changing everyday, growing up, even strangers say it--wow, he's a big two year old.
Not really. They don't even know what they are talking about because Ethan is absolutely teeny, but still it is a big gong in my head: YOU ARE MISSING IT! and then jabs of guilt, deep in my gut.
It about makes you go crazy, like when someone asks me to do something on the weekends, which is my time with Ethan, I want to scream and tell them to back off, leave us alone, like I am defending out lives. Like they were trying to kill us when really they just want us to come over for dinner.
The feeling, at least, of understanding what is going on.
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