Other things, I've learned are not worth trying to compete for and with. Like winning the affections of my children. And Jazz games.
I went out of town for the weekend. A "Girls Weekend Out" with a good friend from my childhood (better known as BFF) and a new friend who we are trying to talk into blogging. (You can do it, Kim, you really can!) More details on that great get-a-away later. But like our family life is every day, things got crazy, and a few days before I left, Aaron was scheduled to leave town on business the same day I got home. Luckily, we were able to meet up at the airport after I arrived, and before he departed. It went like this:
Me: Is everyone still alive?
Aaron: The kids are really funny.
Me: But are they alive?
Aaron: Of course they're alive, and they love me the most.
Me: I might believe that. But they miss me the most right now.
Aaron: I might believe that, but they still love me the most.
So after a 20 minute update over airport dinner, I drove home as fast as I legally could to get home to my kids. Because if you don't already know this about me, I have a hard time leaving them, and don't fully enjoy my time away from them... unless it's 2 hours of quality time at my local Target.
And as I excitedly walked into the house from the garage, I saw my fat baby with a bottle in his mouth... and no excitement to see me.
Maddy and Parker eyed my bags to see if I happened to bring home any "prizes" for them.
And then the little boys came... the pitter patter of little feet, and the cries of "Mommy's home!" It melted my heart. And it lasted for, like, 1.5 minutes. Hugs and kisses, and then back to playing with Light Sabers and cars.
At least I was home.
The next morning we woke up, had breakfast, and went upstairs to get them all dressed. Jack immediately began asking for "Dada". Over, and over, and over.
"He's at work!" I said, like he would even know what that meant. Next time I should say he's in China or Tunisia with Ben from Lost... maybe he would get it?
But upon hearing "he's at work" Charlie broke down in tears. Huge tears.
"I want my dad! I hate this house! I want to go to my dad's hotel!"
And it was then that I realized, they really do love him more. Even though I'm the mom. Even though I labored hours to birth them. even though I sacrificed 9 long months of discomfort to make sure their little bodies were healthy and comfortable. Even though I make them breakfast, lunch, and dinner, and occasionally indulge them with a Happy Meal. They still love him more.
Not one tear was shed while I was gone (I know because I asked), but the first morning that Aaron is away, during a time he is normally at work anyway... let me just say, I was jealous he got tears, and I didn't.
And when I asked my sister why- "Why do they love him more than they love me?", she, in her wisdom and as only Abby can get away with, said...
"It's because he doesn't yell at them like you do."
Like I said... sometimes, I just can't compete.