4 days a month, 48 days a year, give or take. I’m lucky, I suppose, but any day away from my two oldest is hard…
My sadness would come out as crankiness on those Friday nights. In their absence, I wouldn’t quite be able to “place” the emotion, the reason for the “cranks” (unnecessarily taken out on my husband), until I finally really thought about it and could name the emotions and how empty it felt to have them be away.
It’s only 4 days I tell myself: Time to miss each other, appreciate what we take for granted in the other 27.
I rarely remember my dreams, but last night I dreamt that my kids’ step mother and I were talking, I mean really talking… about our daughter. It is physically difficult for me to get those words out of my mouth: “Our daughter.” You see, we don’t talk at all, she and I. Except to say, “Hey,” as we exchange the kids. I wish for the kind of relationship like Julia Roberts’ and Susan Sarandon’s characters had in the last third of that movie, minus the terminal illness.
But, the nightmare is in my dying one day in some terrible freak accident and then having her turn from a 4 day a month mom to a 31 day a month mom, to a 365 day a year mom. She is a good person, and a nurse. Her job is caring for others. She is smart and she works hard and she loves my two kids, our kids. I can’t complain about that. And they love her, and for that, I am lucky.