Sunday Night Feeling

Ever since I can remember, Sunday night gives me a great big case of blah. Blah mixed with a little anxiety and a dash of ick. My dad knows what I'm talking about. We call it "Sunday Night Feeling". The schedule-less, routine-free, chocolate laden weekend's over, and a new week with bed times and alarm clocks and grumpy mornings is just hours away. I had it big time when I was in school and when I was working, and now that I'm a stay-at-home mom, I think it's worse than ever.

And tonight it seems a little magnified. I'm less than thrilled about sending my big kids off to kindergarten and my baby to her pre-school. The nest will be empty, at least until

1 pm

every day. All summer I fantasized about finally having time to myself - time to explore career opportunities, maybe go back to work part-time, indulge in my hobbies, train for a marathon. The possibilities seemed delicious and endless. But now, I dread sending the monkeys off to school and having a quiet house. A really quiet house.

Part of it, I think, is that I really miss my babies. I miss their babyhood. I miss the smell of Ivory snow and baby wipes and nuzzling their downy baby heads. I miss little arms reaching up to me from behind crib bars and chubby legs and determined crawling. I miss the serenity of late-night feedings and first smiles and first steps.

I have no more babies, and I don't want another one. I just want to turn back the hands of time.