I Just Really Miss You

The night felt ordinary.

 

The baby had just had her bath and was finally asleep.

I helped my son through his bedtime routine — water cup ready, pajamas laid out, gentle reminders to stay on track: brush teeth, go potty, read a couple chapters of our book.

 

The lights were low and the house was almost quiet. I could feel the anticipation of when I would finally be able to sit and relax.

 

The laundry still needed to be switched.

Bottles waited for me in the sink.

Dinner lingered on the table and counter.

 

I was so tired … but I saw the finish line. I was almost there.

 

When my son asked if I could stay and snuggle for a few minutes after our story, I answered quickly.

"We did all the bedtime things. No stalling - it's time to sleep. Mommy's tired."

 

He pushed back in that thoughtful yet lawyer-like way he does.

"If you're tired… why won't you lay down with me?"

 

I softly smiled at his logic but my mind was already on the to-do list. I needed to keep moving if I was going to have any time to myself before I needed to go to bed.

"Because Mommy has things to do before I can rest," I said.

 

He paused.

Calm. Not angry. Just quiet. I could see the shift in his energy.

 

"Okay," he said softly.

"I just really miss you."

 

Time stood still.

I felt those words land somewhere deep in my chest.

 

"I just really miss you."

 

My son — who communicates well, who usually regulates beautifully, who had recently been more short-tempered and frustrated in ways I couldn't quite explain — was acting out for a valid reason.

 

He was adjusting.

To being a big brother.

To school.

To sharing me.

To watching our days change from what they were for four and a half years.

 

He was doing his best to cope.

 

I had been so busy trying to keep everything running that I hadn't fully seen how little undivided time we had together. And to be honest - it was really bothering me too.

 

Not time where I was folding laundry.

Not time where I was answering messages.

Not time where I was halfway listening while organizing tomorrow's tasks in my head.

 

It wasn't like this before.

 

Life felt slower.

Our days were filled with more fun - and sometimes boredom - laughing, exploring, figuring out what to do next.

 

So I stayed.

 

We talked about the discomfort of change.

About how we had similar feelings about the season of life we were in.

About how my love for him hasn't changed and what we could do to feel better.

 

We snuggled and I dozed off for a bit.

I let the pesky to do list wait.

 

The next morning, I set reminders on my phone.

Five or ten minutes at the breakfast table — no rushing.

Ten or fifteen minutes after school — fully present play, with him leading the way.

A few extra minutes at bedtime — even when I'm tired.

 

It doesn't sound like much.

But I noticed a big shift in our household, in him and in me.

 

His frustration softened.

His regulation steadied.

His happiness felt lighter.

And so did mine.

 

It's so easy to get lost in the hustle.

To let the pressures of day to day responsibilities overshadow connection moments.

 

But here's the thing - when you're raising little ones, there's always something that "needs to be done".

The years when they ask you to lay down and snuggle?

Those are moving faster than we realize.

 

Thinking back to that night still brings tears to my eyes.

Not because I failed him. But because he trusted me enough to tell me the truth.

 

"I just really miss you."

 

And to think … I almost missed those awesome snuggles.

 

Is there someone in your house who needs ten quiet minutes with you tonight? 🤍

 

Small things count.

Little moments matter.

-The Foundation Station Team 🤍