The worst part about leaving my family in Wisconsin is the three hour time difference. When they wake up, I'm still asleep. When they're having lunch, I've just finished breakfast. When I'm turning in for the night, they've been asleep for a few hours already. It's a challenge to find a time when we can talk that works for all of us.
It's hard being so far away. There were times during the pandemic I felt mentally and emotionally drained with everyone around. I was always right there, dealing with whatever my family needed. I sunk low a number of times, exhausted.
But despite all of my moods, I love my two crazy boys and my husband. Being up here means I'm not down there, witnessing all their day-to-day antics. While it's nice not getting dog piled or rushing from one activity to another (as being away makes me appreciate the slow and quiet even more), I miss the shouts of delight when they play in the backyard. I miss the dollops of Nutella on the counter. I miss the demands for hot chocolate or snacks during class time. I miss warm little bodies snuggling next to me on the couch as we read the latest Geronimo Stilton pick from the library. I miss catching up with my husband about his day during lunch. I miss laughing about ridiculous advice columns. I miss our morning walks.
There's a lot of good about being a mother and wife, especially to boys as amazing as mine. I never forget how much my family depends on me because I'm doing so much everyday, but I do forget how much I depend on them.
So now, tonight, from thousands of miles away, I hope they know I am thinking about them.
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