Wednesday, June 19, 2013

12 Days Without the Kids

My kids have been with my parents for 10 days and will be back on Friday. The material well has dried up since my kids and their actions are my source material.  They aren't trying to burn down the house, throwing fastballs, talking non-stop, or creating artwork for me.

With the exception of my Boston Terrier whose snoring rattles the pictures on the wall, the house is quiet.  White noise still comes from my wife - I mean she talks to me -  but I learned to tune that out years ago.

We are able to come home from work, scrounge together a meal and not worry about homework, cooking a meal for the kids that you know they won't eat, struggling to get jimmies on, or getting the kids out of the shower.  There is no fighting over brushing teeth and a war doesn't break out over which Power Rangers series to watch.

We caught up on Mad Men.

Mornings are easy; I can actually relax and drink my coffee without yelling at everyone to get moving and fighting over cereal versus waffles. There's not a fight over which toys they can bring to school.  I was able to get dressed, throw my gear in the car, and get to my soccer game in under 10 minutes. Trips to the store are quiet and peaceful. 

But, I don't get a "morning dad" and the hugs that come with it.  I don't get to throw the ball around the backyard or watch the boys explore.  I didn't teach Toothless how to throw a "circle change"; I don't get to work with my youngest while he learns to ride his bike.  I don't get to sit with my oldest and watch the College World Series teaching him the rules and intricacies of the game. I don't get to tuck my kids in each night and give the boys a goodnight hug and kiss.  

Dare I say it, but I actually miss the little guys and their antics.  Of course, next week I will write all about how terrible they are after their nearly 2 week stay with grandma and grandpa because there are no rules in that house, but until then...

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