Time...

I knew that time would fuzz some of my impressions of France and the french, and I was correct. I don't feel the need to continue the above post. Five days later and I am in a completely different spot.
By the end of the trip, I was experiencing a weight in my chest that I attributed to missing my babies. The smell of their sleeping bodies lifted the weight no time. Wyeth and Ella slept right through my snuggles and loves. Fara stirred and was a little confused to find me peeking into her crib in the middle of the night. When she shook the sleep off enough to focus on me, she whimpered, "mama" and stretched her little arms up to me. Priceless.
And now, here I am, five days later and I am back to needing a vacation. Not really, but man alive, toddlers are needy little creatures. Just thinking that makes me feel so guilty. Of course, they are needy, they are babies. And what is so scary or uncomfortable about being needed? How can so little time move me from missing them more than words can express, to being frustrated with their need to be touching me every moment of every day.
The hope in the matter? I get to consider this just a moment and know that I am doing the best I can by them. These little moments in motherhood are the ones that you aren't told about before children.