Lately, I have been so excited to head home from work. Ok, you are thinking, who isn’t happy to leave the workplace behind? It is more than just calling it a day from meetings, memos, conference calls, however. It is the thrill of knowing I get to spend time with the kiddos – take a walk with them, throw the ball, watch their game. My time with them in this place is limited. I can imagine in a few years that Ri is not going to ask me to go roller skating on the hills with her and Mario is not going to beg me to watch Modern Family with him. A girlfriend posted this blog on Facebook; I saw it as I took my afternoon power walk around campus. I usually save such posts for another time (which typically doesn’t come – 50 “saves” waiting for me) and continue to scroll looking at posts from friends playing at the beach or hiking the mountains. Keep my mind busy with busy pictures. 

But I chose to open her post and read it. I was transported back to yesterday morning as I poured Maria’s Crispix and Mario’s Krave in separate blue bowls. I stopped the Krave mid-way rather than three-fourths of the way up the bowl because Mario complains if I give him too much cereal. I poured a bit of sugar on Ri’s Crispix and heated up her hot tea and honey to calm her sore throat. They both kept their eyes fixated on the tv as I handed them their cereal, shifting their outreached arms to find the bowl in front of them. I watch Ri bring spoon to mouth mesmerized by the girl talking on the tv. I watched Mario continue to stare at the picture and not begin to eat. I get on him like I do every morning.

“Mario, you have to eat breakfast.”

I repeat this two more times and he finally takes a bite. He will later leave one-fourth of the cereal sopping in the bowl and complain the cereal was too soggy. I repeat for the hundredth time that he needs to eat faster and then he won’t have that problem but he isn’t listening. 

I leave the house for work and I wish I was home with them. And then I’m home with them and sometimes wish I was at work. I’m sure they feel the same at times – want me there but also wish I’d leave so they could go into their reclusive worlds and play Sims or watch You Tube. That distance for a few hours hurls me back into their arms and wanting more of them. Eat their faces, squeeze their middles, kiss their shoulders. I’ve been doing a much better job over the years of soaking in that overt adoration and affection that only kids can give and take. 

We go upstairs to get ready for bed. I’ve called Ri five different times to come upstairs as she watches a final episode of Dance Moms. I’ve given two M&M yogurts to Mario who is starving because he only ate two bites of dinner.  They wrestle on the kitchen floor and swing each other around as I put Rocco in his kennel with a broken off piece of dog biscuit. I laugh at them and bark “come on” at least three times before Ri darts upstairs and Mario jumps on me to be carried to his room. They jump on the bed, beg me to wrestle. I tell them is it too late to wrestle. They beg me again. I say no again. They beg one more time. I give in…but put my foot down to  “only five minutes.”

I give in most of the time. I used to beat myself up about it and think “you have got to lay down the rules and be done.” But the blog post this morning reminded me of why I give in. They will be gone shortly. They will be living their lives outside of our family home. Hopefully, I will see them on a regular basis. But I may not. 

That is why I wrestle.