I've been having a difficult time wrapping my head around the idea that my baby boy is going to spend the night more than 20 feet away from me on Saturday. Ok, so he's not my baby anymore. And I knew this day was inevitable. But that doesn't make it any easier.
I have been suggesting to him that he spend the night at his Dad's house for more than a few weeks now. Had I not brought it up, MSTBE wouldn't have made it an issue for quite some time. But I know that it's what's best for my son so I've talked to him about it. I told him what they would do: he would go there for his nap on Saturday like he always does, then he would wake up and they would play, they would have dinner, he would take a bath, and then he would go to bed and wake up to have breakfast with his Dad. He was never interested. One night he said he wanted to but woke up the next day to a different tune. (I do the majority of my talking with him as he's getting ready for bed.)
When I mentioned it to him on Tuesday and told him all of the details again, he said that Daddy doesn't have a bath, only a shower. So I told him that he could take a shower instead of a bath and he got all excited. I continued with the details of the evening and morning and he was gung ho. And he's been gung ho ever since (today is Thursday, for reference).
I'm happy and excited for him. But I'm also sad. I've taken great pride in being the person who puts him to bed every single night. I also love waking up to him in the morning and have done that a vast majority of his life. Like I said in a previous post, it's been me and him for quite some time (or me, him, and his sister for the past year).
But the sadness is not just about seeing him to sleep at night and being the first person that he sees in the morning. This is the first step toward both of my babies being away from me for several nights per week for the rest of their lives. Eventually, they will both be spending three nights per week at MSTBE's house. That is such a huge loss and I can't even describe how it feels.
In addition to that, I think about the lack of a life that I've had for the past three years. My life has been all about my kids all of the time. What am I going to do with myself when my kids are spending three nights away? I don't have a life. I don't have friends who can go out on a Wednesday night. I don't have hobbies that don't involve my kids. I know that all of these things are awful and that I'll be a better person when I do get out for some fun and redevelop some hobbies. But I'm scared. I'm scared. I'm really, really scared. The only thing that I can equate this to is the Mom who freaks out when her kids go off to college. But I'm lucky, I guess, because I'm going to be forced to do these things that are good for me after only three years instead of 18.
A lot of the past few days I have spent feeling incredibly emotional and sad about the time that I won't have with my kids as well as scared about the idea of being alone. I try to remind myself that it will be good for me and, in turn, good for my kids. I will be a happier, more balanced person. But I'm still scared and really sad. I stayed in my marriage far too long because of this fear and it's still hanging over me.
I think it's time to rip the band aid off and deal with it.
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