Regression all around -- it's hard to be the mom

This week, week two of day camp, I cannot leave my house without all three children crying.  Maeve hits hysteria.  Eden becomes weepy and clings to me.  Silas broods with angry tears pinned to being unable to read together (we are reading Percy Jackson, which is hard to put down).

Last night Ben and I left for a date to see Magic in the Moonlight.  It took me 20 minutes of fury at Ben for blaming me for badly handling everyone's tears as I squeezed out the door (which he wasn't exactly doing, more what I was doing) and the pungent smell of popcorn finally to calm and settle into being together.

Today all I tried was to go to yoga.  Maeve and I talked about it all the way there.  Last week she reluctantly leaned into the woman's arms and I left without a scene.  Today, as we walked in with her giant book and tiny doll, she screamed a beet-faced cry as if I'd just left her for life.

After Eden's dance camp --she is carrying herself with a whole new posture, head right up in the stars readying some internal posture for her performance tomorrow -- she spoke baby talk for an hour -- "me ga ga want ga"  Really?

At bedtime, Ben  becomes almost invisible, though his kind voice walks through books and he lies next to kids asking about their day.  Where's mom?  Is she coming?  I need her to tuck me in?  Can you read me a book?  Dad already read to you.  I want YOU to read to me!!!!!! And then the crying and clinging.  At 5am, after a trip to the bathroom, Eden appeared at my bedside with alligator tears, but I want to get in bed with YOU.  The three of us squeezed like sardines under the covers.

And so we hit mid-summer.

This is the note I found next to Eden's face on her pillow last night:

Mom, I am 

terribly missing you

today and all

month and all 

year can we 

have some 

special time