Promise to post on Las Vegas eventually.  But right now (well, not this second, but in general), running around, buying ingredients and general loveliness, off with the little ones, taking them to a play group date.  Once things settle down, I will recap more.  The photos were for shit, I’m afraid.  But the gambling was good.  Overall, we left up a little over $800… but we made up for it in dinners at Le Cirque, Michael Mina, etc.  It was quite lovely. 

Though when I finally pulled into the driveway, and then into the house, I buzzed straight for the tots.  Lucas was all giggles and smiles, so ridiculously happy, but Abigail looked so different to me.  She wasn’t as quick to smile.  She looks at me as if I’m a stranger, despite singing her favorite songs.  She likes to be carried throughout the house, likes when I tickle her stomach with my nose, and likes when I blow zerberts on her belly.  Still, she’s changed so much in only a few days.  It’s as if a dimple had grown in her cheek, having moved from under her eye.  She seems more shy, studying me more.  Almost as if she’s making up her mind.  And Lucas is now scooting across the floor.  And as much fun as I had, I hated the feeling of missing them change.  Not missing them while I was away.  That’s not the right miss.  This is different.  It’s not like missing a party or a long-distance lover, a relative who lives across the country.  That’s missing someone or something. 

It’s missing what I know I’m missing. And it breaks my heart.  It would be like missing Abigail’s first step.  It’s missing things I can’t ever get back.  Firsts.  In truth, I wish I were alone with my children.  Not forever (I’d totally lose it), but for a while.  I need my alone time with them.  Where the family cameras are turned off (so I don’t have to worry about flashing family in my sweat shorts or low rider jeans).  Where no one is watching or waiting to see what happens next.  Where I can read to them, and maybe get them to pay attention, instead of trying to eat the book as I try to read it.   The thing is, when they were in the NICU, I feared they wouldn’t know the difference between me and the many nurses who cared for them.  And now that I’m home, a part of me fears they prefer the nanny who takes such great care of them while we were away, and while we’re here doing our work.  I know many mothers deal with this juggling, that I should be thankful I work from home and can pop in anytime to snuggle them.  And I am.  I’m very thankful.  I also want to do my best at this, at them, for them.  I want them to know how much I love them.  And I notice, I do my best job when no one else is around.  Because then they need me.  Otherwise, there’s someone else to watch over them as I clean, or cook, or actually work.  But when it’s just the three of us: Lucas, Abigail, and me, I give them measuring cups to bang, play Christmas music, read, and pretend to be a monkey, a seal, elephant, and lion.  I practice sign language and try to teach them new words. 

Missing someone isn’t the same as missing the stages, each step, so to speak.  I don’t want to be away from them again, mostly because I am afraid of what I’ll miss, that I’ll come back and they’ll favor someone else.  And it feels selfish somehow… like I’m not doing something right.  I worry already that I miss too much, even when I’m home.  I feel like I’m the best mom when I can just be alone with them.  When other people are around, the nanny or Phil, I just leave everything to them, because I can.  When no one is around, I love just being their mother because I get to do it my way.  It’s just so hard to balance it all.  There’s all I want to do, making a nice home, a pretty place to unwind, to make memories, to decorate and cook and prepare.  To make "Your first year" scrapbooks for each of them.  And then there’s time with the babies.  I want to work out at the gym (though when it’s warm here, I do go walking with them), and be healthy, and find time to read and scrapbook, and write and blog, and read some more.  And then there will be the editorial process for Moose, where I expect to do a lot more writing and transitions, which will leave less time with them.  There’s so much I want to do, and so much I don’t want to miss.  And it’s hard to fit it all in, to make it all work.  To live the best life I can, for all of us.