Sweating the Small Things

The other night, I had one of the most pleasant dreams of my life.

I dreamed I was helping E get dressed in the morning.

I gave him a choice of shirts. And he rejected both and proceeded to empty his entire shirt drawer in search of the perfect shirt. He does that because he insists I don't pick cool shirts for him. He's a bit of a brat....I watched him pick shorts and undergarment and socks. I argued with him about the merits of wearing his adorable green sneakers that reflect so nicely on his (and his mom's) coolness versus his old clunky tennis shoes that are a size too big for him...

I know, I know, not exactly earth-shattering or even that interesting to write about. But it really illustrated to me what I find precious about my time with him. It's not necessarily the big events like taking him to the zoo or playing with him at the park. Although those are wonderful as well. But the things that I really miss are the everyday things that I don't even think about when he's here and when they're commonplace.

The other day I was driving and absentmindedly reached back toward the back seat, looking for a small hand to grasp. It wasn't until the hand wasn't there that I realized how frequently I perform that particular maneuver.

For another example, I was saddened by my laundry last week. I enjoy doing laundry usually (I know, it's such a housewifely thing for me to actually enjoy doing...). I like that it takes a short time to see results and that at the end of the procedure, you have a bunch of clean clothing that you probably forgot you even owned in the intervening time between when you threw the article in question into the laundry basket, and removed it on Laundry Day. Not that I have a Laundry Day, per se. Laundry Day is Whenever Mommy Has Time Day, in my establishment.

But anyway, the cleansing of tiny socks that wouldn't be worn for some time, and the folding of countless tiny shirts that would go unworn, was inexplicably sad.

Good thing he's coming home on Thursday, huh?