This is one from the archives. My archives. This is a piece I wrote a few years back for my kids’ elementary school community. It reminds me--and maybe it will remind you, too--to enjoy every stage of parenting. No matter how old our babies are.
I got lucky last week. My mom offered to take my two-year old for a few days. (Actually, I don’t remember if she offered, or acquiesced. One of the two.)
And so for the first time, in what seemed like a very long time, I had down time. Time alone. I found myself giggling while walking down Columbus. Friends asked if I had lost weight, lightened my hair, had an affair. But no, none of those inquiries were correct. I had simply shipped a little monkey upstate. And even as I left him, as my mom and I were negotiating just how soon I’d be back to pick him up (She: Thursday? Me: Friday?), I could feel my shoulders lifting.
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