The sweetest and saddest time of day

T minus three days. I have three days of maternity leave left.

Owen's going to be fine. He's going to have a great time with Ray over the next few weeks. And once he's in daycare full-time, I think he'll be fine. He loves to play with other kids, so I think he'll have a ball.

But still.

The past few days, we start every morning with our usual routine. I'm up, drinking coffee, watching a little Matt 'n Meredith 'n Al, or trying to get a start on the day, when Owen sits up in his bed and calls out, "Mommy!"

When I walk in his room, he's calmly sitting there, waiting for me, with the biggest smile on his face. Then I scoop up him, his Capitals blanket, and his teddy bear, and we head to the couch. Sometimes he drifts back to sleep on my shoulder, or just snuggles there for a while. We sit on the couch together and cuddle and laugh. We might practice some sounds and words. We exchange a lot of tickles and kisses. Then we go have breakfast.

This week has been bittersweet. I keep thinking, we won't have time for this once I go back to work. Not at the leisurely, all-the-time-in-the-world pace we have now. I don't even know if Owen will be up when I leave next week. Will he wake up and call "Mommy"? Then what'll happen?

Every morning lately has been beautiful, and yet it has tugged at my heart unbearably.