Day 69: Daddy Bashers

I woke up crying this morning.

I had just had a dream in which I was on some sort of amusement park ride, and in the seat next to me was a woman with an incredibly cute baby. Looking at the baby I wanted very much to kiss its cheeks. The more I looked at it the more it reminded me of my boys when they were babies. And the more I thought about my boys when they were babies, the sadder I got.

I longed for the days when I would rock them to sleep -- one hand on their butt, one hand on their back, their face nestled in my neck. I miss that so much. Now I have two nearly six-foot, smelly, sarcastic daddy-bashers. If you look at them and squint your eyes and imagine them without hair and about a hundred pounds heavier, you can almost see me.

So I started crying in my dream. Crying for the days when they were so damned cute and needed me so much. And when I woke up I kept crying, because I knew the day would soon be here that I would wake up and even my big boys would be gone.