Missing My Babies

I miss my kids.

I miss Zachary and Jake.

I miss the noise.

I miss the fighting. Okay, maybe I don't miss that too much.

I miss making fried egg sandwiches.

I miss having their friends over.

I miss watching them play spy games.

I miss beating them at video games.

I miss watching them eat ice cream.

I miss the incessant questions.

I miss the goofy silliness at dinner time.

I miss swimming in the ocean with them.

I miss watching the Red Sox with them.

I miss walking down the beach and hearing their observations about the world.

I can almost say I miss watching iCarly with them but ... no. I don't miss that.

On Sunday, I get to go visit for four hours. It's a manly man camp and it's Dad's weekend. Walter and Allan are spending it with them- lucky boys, they don't have to share a single dad as they have two. Women are only allowed for four hours.

See, we make the kids homesick. Moms. We have our ways. Besides by Sunday, we won't smell bad like the dads.

I just miss them.