Last night was long. So long. It wasn't until 3 am that I started to drift off. And then, I was wide awake at 6:45 am. One of the many amazing symptoms during a bout of hypomania. Hopefully, as we get my medicine figured out, this sleeplessness will pass.
One thing that I have learned in my few years of mom-ing, is that when you want a little bit of quiet in the morning - DON'T GET UP AND DO SHIT. I used to try and get a little bit done in the mornings before the kids got up. Tiptoeing around the house, trying to be as quiet as possible. It was useless. Within minutes, I would have a little Kai, creeping down the stairs, smiling at me, "Mom, it is like we are connected! As soon as you get up, I get up." So true little buddy. So now, when I want a little bit of quiet, I stay the fuck in my room.
This morning, was one of those mornings. I woke up, did a couple rounds of sun salutations, very quietly grabbed a coffee, and plunked back into my bed. I opened up Instagram, and instead of scrolling my feed, I scrolled through my old pictures. What the actual hell. Where did all of the "little" go? I thumbed through picture upon picture of missing teeth, old favourite outfits, stuffed animals, sleeping faces, and notes.
I could have cried! How long had it been since I looked at all of these?!? How did I forget how little these faces were?!?! Somehow I have been swept away in the world of 'tween drama, and forgot about their littleness. I forgot about the naps, and the croup, the drawings on the wall, the mud, the family sleep-togethers. When did they switch from being "little kids" to being "big kids"? "Big kids" who babysit, and go out with their friends - all by themselves, who have school tests, and crushes. Fuck, now I am crying...