Hovering over the washer this afternoon I took a moment to observe myself, as I hurriedly transferred clothes into the dryer... I briefly recalled the days of being "stranded" on the couch under a sleeping, nursing baby. The bliss, the tiredness, the sometimes frustration when I wanted to get up and just do whatever it was that so badly needed doing. Yeah, babies really don't keep.
There's still slivers of bliss, tiredness, and frustration over different things, often over too much needing to be done and not even knowing where to begin. Now if I get to sit it's while I'm waiting all the time. But not a day goes by that I don't look forward to their return to my car, if not in my arms they are at least in my nest.