Neville has been in the midwest for the last 10 days. He's finally coming home today. This is the first time since Darius was born that I was the one left behind. It's typically my job, my friend getting married, international travel with girlfriends, what have you that pulls me away from the family. I'm usually the one kissing Darius good-bye for a week or more. Neville is the one that stays behind.
Mind you, when Neville stays behind his mom pitches in more and my dad will bring over meals. Because if you know anything about Neville you know that he has never learned how to make a proper meal. The man can't even cook pasta. He can make a mean microwaved hot dog, but other than that he's got nothing. As fate would have it, when Neville decides to take a trip to visit with family, his mom decides to go with him. And my dad decides to chaperone the French class trip to France over SpringBreak. Triple whammy for me.
I was talking to one of my friends about how hard these 10 days have been. It's not the routine; we've basically stayed on track. It's not the work; my boss has been incredibly flexible with my need for flexibility during N's trip. It's not even the strict drop off and pick up times at his preschool.
I really miss Neville. His companionship. How he's so incredibly grumpy when he's tired. And how he can devoure a meal. And the nightly battle of him trying to put his cold hands on my warm body. And me screaming out in horror when those icicle hands get near me.
When I travel, I usually miss Darius. I mean, I miss Neville too but the momma bear in me needs to be close to my cub. By the end of the trip, my heart aches for my child. Don't get me wrong, I want to see Neville when I get home. Yet my first priority is to grab my little guy tight for a bear hug.
I know that Darius has missed his daddy too. But when Neville walks through the front door tonight, there is going to be a mad dash to hug daddy. I wonder who will get to him first.
