The night shift

Today I worked the dinner shift at the cafe. I didn't like it that much. I mean, I did, it was great, and the woman I worked with was AWESOME, and it was fun....but I learned that I really, truly just enjoy the breakfast shift more. I love everything about it. I love the pace, the food, the people, the smell of coffee and bacon, the filtered morning sun coming through the plate glass windows, serving up bloodys and bennys all day long. It's my kind of crowd.

But really, the biggest thing I remembered ? I miss my kids. I miss them in a way that is almost painful. Palpable. This aching, keening missing of my babies. The smell of freshly washed hair, warm little bodies looking for a cuddle before bed. The patter of little feet in the hallway coming to tell me they heard a noise, or need a hug, or forgot to go potty, or any number of other distractions and stall tactics that are both annoying and hilarious.

The random conversations about juicing cows.
The long decision-making process required for bedtime story selection.
The extra-tight goodnight hugs.
The sweet goodnight kisses.
The "I love you"s

I am home now, I got home around midnight due to some complicated closing paperwork.
I am dirty, and tired, and not at all sleepy.
So I am going to take a shower, and go snuggle with my little bunnies for a while, listening to their quiet (and not so quiet) breathing. Running my fingers through Max's hair. Tucking Lucy under her covers. They won't know I am there, but they will feel my presence, reach for me with sleepy arms to be held and loved and treasured.

Oh, how I love you, my little ones. I am sorry I had to work tonight. I don't think it will happen again.