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BH has been home since last Tuesday afternoon. His dad and stepmom came to visit for a few days and we hosted Thanksgiving with my parents, his cousin's family, and his aunt and uncle. BH cooked a delicious meal (and I set a mean table). It has been unbelievably fabulous to have him here. We have gotten to spend some awesome family time together - just the three of us, and I've gotten to sleep in past seven most days because he's been here to play with HD. At least once, I didn't get up until after HD went down for his morning nap. Lucky, lucky girl. I have felt slight twinges of guilt at these luxuries, but I've pushed them away knowing that it's good for me, good for making my slightly annoying cold go away, and good for BH and HD to have additional bonding/father/son time.

Except for two things. HD is now obsessed with BH to the point that he has cried bloody murder at least twice in the past twenty four hours when BH left him with me to go to another room. I want to love this and think it is just what I've always wanted - our young son to have the kind of attachment to his father that he has to me. An equal opportunity to have his dad as his favorite. But I'm jealous. And I know I shouldn't be. And I'm trying hard not to be. I should be thankful for the free moments it has allowed me to have in the last couple of days. And I am. If only I could remove the jealous bones in my body - I wish I knew which bones they were - they have caused me SO much trouble over the years.

Oh - the second thing. Tomorrow is Monday. BH goes back to work. I think HD and I will take turns screaming bloody murder tomorrow. Play date, anyone?

Comments

[Can-Can]

It is hard to excise jealous bones, isn't it. I know when you don't have the green eyes of envy on, you recognize that a little boy who has two parents that think the world of him and an extended network of other loving family and friends will be that much more secure in life!
I used to get jealous of my late husband when the children were little and they used to jump all over him and basically "dis" me for the rest of the night once he came through the door. What am I, chopped liver, I remember thinking on more than one occasion.