There are some things I will never get used to. Take daylight savings. We gain sleep -- every chronically overtired mom's BFF -- but it's replaced by a cool darkness, a hollow emptiness, a deafening silence that takes hold right after the kids get off the school bus. I know it's coming, and I know I will adjust... but I hate it.
I feel the same way when I say goodbye to my little boy every other weekend. I rip a frayed band-aid off a wound that will never heal every time I pack his bag for his dad's. It's a special kind of sting only a divorced parent knows.
I always preach about the importance of sharing (seriously, I am so annoying), but I am heartbroken when I can't hoard him to myself. Here are 13 reasons why I can't help but sing the every other weekend blues.
- I need his hand. I reach out for it when I cross the street sometimes, even though I know he's not there. I can't stop myself.
- I worry when I am not there to supervise, to consider the over/under of him getting hurt, to protect him from himself.
- I wonder if he's had a bad dream, if he woke up wanting a kiss from his mommy, if he feels abandoned.
- I miss admiring his devilishly adorable dimples as he flirts with the grocery check-out girl in his five-year-old way. I miss delivering a mom-mastered-dirty-look when he begs, barters, and, ultimately, pleads a little too loudly for an unnecessary addition to his Matchbox collection.
- I long for my son's top-of-the-head smell. Hell, even the stinky little boy smell is welcome when I am in withdrawal.
- The dried up pee I need to chisel off the toilet, the flatulence, the burps he pushes out for a belly laugh... they all don't seem so bad when he's gone.
- I miss our giggle fests. There's no sweeter sound than his laughter. And no one makes me laugh more than my hilarious little boy!
- I hate the internal dialogue I have in his absence. I can't help but feel jealous when I see other moms with their little boys.
- I am sad I have to forfeit moments of his childhood that I can't get back. I am not the one who gets to take him trick-or-treating this year. I got his costume and took pictures of him in advance, but it's not the same as being a part of the memory.
- The lack of "Mom! Mommmmmmyyyyyy! Ma! MOOOOOMMMMMMY!" cries gut me. When he's here, they can grate on my last nerve, but it's so different when he's not.
- There's no substitute for his beautiful face. I see the best version of me, my greatest contribution to the world, when I look at his beautiful face. I don't like my reflection in the mirror when I am without him.
- I want to hear his voice. Did he learn anything new today? What did he do? I have no idea from a distance.
- I struggle when I can't hear his heartbeat. He listened to my heartbeat when he lived inside of me for 40 weeks. My heart hurts when we are separated, and I can't help but feel his heart hurts too. They just belong together.
What do you miss about your kids when they are at your ex's house?