They become real people over night.

My son got home last night after spending two days on the farm with his daddy and grandpa. I was immediately annoyed because his newer jeans had a five-inch slice down the back of his leg. I could only imagine how it happened.

He told me his pants got caught...keep in mind, his father is giggling the entire time.

The actual story is that while working out in a pasture, my son decided he needed to cross a barbed-wire fence by himself. And he believed that he was small enough to slither in between two wires without getting poked. Needless to say, he was wrong. His pants got caught and with one leg up in the air, he tried desperately to unhook his pants. Only to make the rip that much bigger.

The lesson though, came from my husband. He went on to tell me that he had no idea our son was over by the fence. All he heard was, "Darn barbed-wire anyway...darn barbed-wire..." Our son, at the age of four already knows that muttering under our breath and cursing whatever thing we ran in to will make any situation better. If he would have had his eyes closed, I bet my husband could have pictured himself or me or any other adult for that matter.

He's growing up...darn it.

(again) We need them as much as they need us.

My husband recently switched jobs, which has left me as a single mom five days a week. The first week, I just concentrated on getting through it. The second, I focused on keeping my kids (and myself) busy. And the third week, I came back down to reality.

As we prepared to leave my husband for his week away from work (yes, we went to see him), my son began sobbing. He didn't want to leave. This was nothing new. We go through it every time we leave grandma and grandpa. Sometimes after we're done shopping. No biggie.

But as soon as we pulled onto the highway, he told me the real reason he was genuinely sad. "I already miss my daddy," he quietly said between sniffles. The lump that was already making it difficult for me to breath doubled in size and I quietly replied, "Me too buddy. We'll get through it together."

Up to that point I tried very hard to hide my tears, but I realized that maybe my son needed to see them. Maybe he needed that reassurance that it's okay to be sad and to miss daddy. Maybe in some way my tears would comfort him.

The same goes for how are sleeping arrangement has evolved since my husband's been gone. I haven't been sleeping well, mostly fearing someone breaking in and taking my children. My son has been making treks into my room in the middle of the night. And my small daughter, the best sleeper EVER is now stumbling into my room for extra love. I tried to fight it-that urge to just pull them in bed with me. But again, in week three, I realized that maybe I would feel more secure and sleep better if we were together. So I pulled my daughter's toddler bed up against my son's full-sized bed. Now we sleep in a row, my baby girl, me and my son. Close enough to touch and make sure each of us is still there and yet enough space so that we don't keep each other up all night.

It's the best I've slept in a month. (oh, and they're much more rested now as well)