Frittatas and Love

Last night I went to bed somewhat frustrated with one of the guys.  It felt like it had been a roller coaster of an evening with him.  I was pleased about something, then he disappointed me about something, then he seemed to come out of that and I was feeling happy and proud and then right before bed he said he didn't want to do something we'd discussed.  I was frustrated and he knew it but I kissed him and told him we'd talk about it this morning.

I laid there in bed...the antiques related mystery on my kindle is lagging a bit...and thought about how tied up my emotions are with the wellbeing of those boys.  I thought about how children can never realize how much we love them....and then I thought about the fact that my parents must have loved me as much as I love Leo and Owen.  I almost laughed to myself, there in the darkness, because the idea seems ludicrous to me even though I know my parents loved me with all of their hearts.  And it's not that I feel that I'm particularly unlovable...but the thought of someone loving me as much as I love my boys....it's just impossible to grab hold of.  Maybe that's some kind of self-preservation.....because if we truly knew how much we were loved perhaps it would petrify us...perhaps it would create a burden.  I have no idea.  So this morning I kissed the guys and told them they'd never know how much I loved them.  And they just smiled and kissed me back, told me they loved me and trotted off to school.

Ham frittata for dinner last night.  Simple and perfect.  Owen was suspicious of it though he likes eggs so he had ham and a huge pile of strawberries.  God knows what kind of orange carohydrate Leo ate.