What a bittersweet parenting weekend. It felt like a lot of work, as we lived through it: children (Grace and Whit only – Benjamin and James were perfection!) were fighting at every turn. There was shouting and screaming and pushing and pulling. Everybody fought going to bed, and Grace was up at 3am throwing up and wound up in our bed. Parenting seemed like an endless slog of noisy discord.
And then we got home, I put the pictures online, and both children promptly fell asleep in their very own beds. Looking in on them napping peacefully, my heart swelled to that I-can’t-contain-it size. I remembered the popsicles and the swimming and the fact that we’ll never again get this weekend back.
And then I read Catherine Newman’s column this week, and blinked back tears yet again.