Tomorrow my husband, Bob, is leaving for Florida for three days. This shouldn't be a big deal, right? Except for these few factors: 1) The last time Bob and I spent a night apart was when Nico was born. 2) Before that, it had been three years. In the the total time we have lived in this house (11 years), we have spent no more than 10 nights apart. Not because we're madly in love with each other or that we're afraid to be apart. It just doesn't happen. We like each others company. We travel well together. We're a habit.
So there is that. As a Mom home with her kiddo all day, I need him to come home at night. Need! If even for the luxury of 30 minutes alone while I clean up Nico's room, make her bed and check email. Shoot, after some days, I'm grateful for the 15 minutes of alone-ness I get while washing the tub! I need that break - before the struggle of bath and bed begins. So this three-day stretch in front of me is a marathon I am dreading running. I will be holding my breath for three whole days. I'm not made to be a single-mom. I'm too much of a wuss for that. I will survive. We will get into our rhythm and I will come out of it, Friday, a new person - with new callouses.
But despite all that, there is something that I am even more afraid of, something that gives me a twinge of nausea when I think about it: My muffin-girl, who loves her Daddy more than the moon and sun, will be sad. She will ask about him over and over. I am afraid of her sadness, her missing him. And the more I think of it, I know its my projection. I know I'm feeling myself miss my own dad - which isn't terribly relevant to the conversation (my dad is still around). I just know that feeling. I remember it well when my parents divorced, when my dad traveled on business, when he would leave after visiting me in college. I hate that feeling. And I am terrified of seeing her feel this, too. I know it won't be the same as mine. It could be worse, more powerful...or not. I am so dreading it, though. We will have reminders throughout the entire first day of how Daddy isn't here. Bed time will be this series of "When is Daddy coming home?" I'm friggin' crying while I write this, for pete's sake! sigh
I know I'm reacting to something that hasn't even happened yet. And I do have plans, of a sort. We will make a chart to mark off each day. We will talk to him a couple of times a day. I will post pictures on Facebook for him. We will have adventures to new places we've never been before - as the traveling team I hope us to be when she's older! And in reality...come on...it is only three damn days. I'll be fine. I'm just not up for one of those "parental learning experiences" where you feel the alien-ness of your child in contrast to your own emotions, where you're reminded of her separate, unique personality. I like the familiar. And this week, my friends, we will be on a far-away planet in a far away universe - at least in my head.
1 comment:
You are halfway there! I hope Nico isn't missing Daddy too much.
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