I'm Missing My Kids

It's barely been 18 hours since I last kissed their sleeping faces and gently caressed their soft cheeks, and I miss them something fierce.
It's every mom's dream - a few days away from the house, the spouse and the kids. For 5 days, I'm at a work-related event, sleeping in a different city. I can hit the spa, go shopping, linger over a cup of coffee while reading a magazine, have an extra glass of wine. No worries about laundry, grocery shopping, what to feed the kids, or how to get everything done in x number of hours. (Rather the worries are whether or not I've left enough clean laundry, did I remember to stock the fridge with the kids' favorite fruits; what Daddy will feed the kids, will I remember to remind Wayne about garbage day?) I should be revelling in these brief moments of freedom rather than stress about the pile of laundry that will await my arrival home.
And I miss my kids. I miss their sweaty faces pressed against mine to give me kisses and their sticky hands gripping my hands. I miss the craziness of trying to listen to everyone's stories as they all race to be the first to speak about their day while I try to make my way into the kitchen with two kids hanging off of my legs and third holding onto my shirt to slow me down. I ache to feel the slight weight of Aisling, curled against me with her head buried in the crook of my neck, and feeling the soft vibrations as she gently hums herself to sleep with her small hands curled against my chest. As I held her last night, I realised this week would mark our first separation at night since she came home from the hospital.
I called them tonight, and felt my throat tighten when I heard their voices. Aisling babbled happily over the speaker phone, while Ceilidh and Devlin fought over whose turn it was to talk. The tears formed when I heard Ceilidh tell me to come home, and when Devlin said he missed me. And when I think of how much I miss my kids, I think of how heartbreaking it is for those mothers who have no choice but to face a long separation from their own children without knowing when they'll be together. Our Canadian soldiers in Afghanistan, mothers who commute several provinces to work, the hundreds of foreign caregivers who come to Canada to work and forge a better future for their young children left behind in their home countries, Suaad Hagi Mohamud who was detained in Kenya for over three months, fighting to prove her identity while separated from her son in Toronto. I think of all the moms who are missing their children greatly but will never see them because of an illness or accident that ended a young life much too soon.
Then my mind turns to the "mothers" who have abandoned their babies to an uncertain future, to a life filled with pain, and sometimes death. And I can't fathom it. Remember the case about the salsa dancing mother who left her young toddler at home all alone in a stifling apartment, while she embarked on a weekend of dancing and parties? By the time she returned to her home, her baby girl was dead. I remember the disgust I felt for this woman, and wondered how a "mother" could so easily forget her child, so blithely put her own wants ahead of her dependent daughter? But mostly, I remember feeling such sadness for this little girl and imagined how afraid and desperately scared that baby must have been when no one came to her, no matter how long and how loudly she cried.
It's true that whenever we read about such tragedy involving children, we will turn to our own and hug them just a little tighter and just a little longer. I hope and pray that my children will never experience such terror or hurt or pain. I know I can never insulate from all the evils of the world. I know eventually they will grow up, and they will see the world has both good and bad elements. But I hope to protect them for as long as I can. I hope to preserve their innocence and their belief in happily-ever-after endings because there are enough cynics in this world. And while I'm at it, I pray for strength and inspiration and guidance (and lots of patience) to help my husband and me to be better parents. I also pray that my children will always be surrounded by love, and that they will know they are loved, unconditionally (no matter how crazy they make us). Because the fact is, parenthood is a tough job and we all need the help we can get.
I'm missing my kids something fierce. I know they're in good hands (their nanny and Daddy and Uncle Billy) and I know this week away is a good thing, but I miss them and I'm already counting down the hours until I see and hold them again.