An unexpected explosion of emotion, that's the only way that I can describe it. Tonight, after a fun event with some girlfriends, for which I bought a new cocktail dress and shoes, had my hair done by a professional, painted my nails, and spent more time on my make up than I have in the last week combined, I had an unexpected explosion of emotion.
On the way to the event, I had to drive near the neighborhood in which I would say that my divorce "happened." We lived in this neighborhood for a short two years. I don't drive through this neighborhood in which my divorce happened very often anymore because I live about 10 miles north, work is in the opposite direction, and I have everything that I need nearby. Driving on the main street that is tangent to the neighborhood brought back some emotions but, with the anticipation of a fun night on my mind, I was able to push those emotions out of my mind. On the way home from the event, there was night time traffic on the main street below the actual neighborhood that we lived in. Being the impatient person that I am, I turned up a street to avoid the traffic because I knew that going through the neighborhood would be much faster. Almost immediately I regretted the shortcut.
As I drove up the hill, I started feeling anxious. When I made the left turn into the neighborhood, I couldn't stop the tears. Initially, the tears were induced from the memory of all of the long walks that I took, taking me and my son to the furthest part of the neighborhood, to either avoid what I was trying to deny or to avoid what I had finally admitted. As I got closer to the house, I remembered the first times that I had taken my son to the small park across the street to get out of the house and have breakfast, just me and him. And as I drove down the hill, I remembered the night that we all moved into the house and MSTBE and I got take out Italian from the restaurant that I drove past tonight, seemingly a happy family with a new beginning. It was like experiencing my divorce in reverse. It took me from the worst time in my marriage to a time when I still thought that there was hope, completely in denial of the reality that I knew, deep in my heart, was immanent.
Once I left the neighborhood, still unable to stop the tears, I was trying to figure out what had caused them. There's not a fiber of my being that wishes that things were different between me and MSTBE. "Why am I crying, no, sobbing, uncontrollably?" Thirty minutes later, changed out of my dress and the shoes that were about to break each of my feet in two, lying in bed, I can't answer that question. So here's the real question: when is it going to stop hurting?
Thursday, May 21, 2015
Monday, April 20, 2015
April 20, 2015 ~ My Faith in Humanity, Restored
And when I say humanity, what I really mean is huMANity. My brothers and step Dad have restored my faith in men.
(First, let me mention that my Dad has always been my rock. The only reason that he's not in this post is because I didn't ask him to come early to my daughter's party to help me out. And even though she's not a man, I feel like I need to mention that my Mom isn't a part of this story because she was really sick.)
Yesterday was my daughter's second birthday party. My brothers both came over early to help me with the prep work. When my younger brother arrived, I asked him to hang some flower balloons that I made. I was reminded that it is possible to ask for help, give minimal direction, and trust that the job will be done well. I didn't have to explain in detail what I meant when I said that I wanted them hung "alternating colors." He said what he thought that I meant, he was right, and he hung the balloons. He hung them so that they were all similar heights and he adjusted the plan that I mentioned according to the number of balloons that I had made. I asked him to take care of filling the cooler with ice and beer and a bucket with ice and kids' drinks. He decided that filling the cooler at the time was a good idea but that he should wait to fill the bucket since it didn't have a lid and the ice would melt before people arrived. And, crazy as it sounds, the first time that there was a lull in preparation when it was closer to the start of the party, he went outside and filled the bucket without me having to ask.
I'm seriously getting tears in my eyes as I type this. You probably think I'm crazy, but I'll explain.
In addition, both of my brothers helped me make tea sandwiches, again with very minimal instructions, and my younger brother helped me make butterflies with pretzels and dip (good 'ole Pinterest has made my parties so much more festive). When I gave him minimal instructions, he asked me to show him what it is that I wanted them to look like so that he didn't mess up the prep work that I had already done with them. I showed him one and he completed the rest.
Not only were all of the tasks done well, but they were done with love. Care went into them.
After everyone had left and I got the kids to bed, I laid down to relax for a little while before I went downstairs to do a crap ton of dishes and finish putting things away. I fell asleep. For an hour. When I went downstairs, my step Dad had emptied the clean dishes out of the dishwasher and put them away, loaded the dirty dishes that could go into the dishwasher, folded up the tables and brought them inside, and had started hand washing the dishes that couldn't go in the dishwasher. He actually knew which dishes were too delicate for the dishwasher! And he took the initiative to help me out!
You're probably thinking that I'm talking down to men; that I'm an angry divorced women who thinks that all men are awful and can't believe it when she's presented with men who are competent. Let me be clear: when I say these things, I don't mean them to sound degrading to men. The real deal is that it's as if I've been in some kind of one-man cult for the past nine years. I've been brainwashed. I've been conditioned to have to give detailed instructions without sounding too demanding, without emasculating, without controlling. I've had to figure out if it was worth asking for help when I knew that the help that I was going to get would be half assed, by someone who really didn't care if he did a good job. Was the frustration of a product that was the result of no heart worth the time saved or would it be easier just to do it all myself?
So let me explain. The tears that are welling up in my eyes are because I've been reminded by three men who have always been and always will be competent, helpful, loving, and caring that there are men out there who like to do a good job. They have helped me realize that I am not a person who is impossible to deal with and too demanding, that I am not too controlling and that my expectations are not too high. It may sound so simple to you, brothers and step Dad helping out for their niece/granddaughter's birthday, but it wasn't simple to me. It was a reminder of who I am. It helped me realize that some of the traits that I had labeled myself with while being in this one-man cult just aren't true characterizations. And I'm relieved.
And just for fun, here's a picture of my daughter, because it's her party and she'll cry (and tantrum) if she wants to.
(First, let me mention that my Dad has always been my rock. The only reason that he's not in this post is because I didn't ask him to come early to my daughter's party to help me out. And even though she's not a man, I feel like I need to mention that my Mom isn't a part of this story because she was really sick.)
I'm seriously getting tears in my eyes as I type this. You probably think I'm crazy, but I'll explain.
In addition, both of my brothers helped me make tea sandwiches, again with very minimal instructions, and my younger brother helped me make butterflies with pretzels and dip (good 'ole Pinterest has made my parties so much more festive). When I gave him minimal instructions, he asked me to show him what it is that I wanted them to look like so that he didn't mess up the prep work that I had already done with them. I showed him one and he completed the rest.Not only were all of the tasks done well, but they were done with love. Care went into them.
After everyone had left and I got the kids to bed, I laid down to relax for a little while before I went downstairs to do a crap ton of dishes and finish putting things away. I fell asleep. For an hour. When I went downstairs, my step Dad had emptied the clean dishes out of the dishwasher and put them away, loaded the dirty dishes that could go into the dishwasher, folded up the tables and brought them inside, and had started hand washing the dishes that couldn't go in the dishwasher. He actually knew which dishes were too delicate for the dishwasher! And he took the initiative to help me out!
You're probably thinking that I'm talking down to men; that I'm an angry divorced women who thinks that all men are awful and can't believe it when she's presented with men who are competent. Let me be clear: when I say these things, I don't mean them to sound degrading to men. The real deal is that it's as if I've been in some kind of one-man cult for the past nine years. I've been brainwashed. I've been conditioned to have to give detailed instructions without sounding too demanding, without emasculating, without controlling. I've had to figure out if it was worth asking for help when I knew that the help that I was going to get would be half assed, by someone who really didn't care if he did a good job. Was the frustration of a product that was the result of no heart worth the time saved or would it be easier just to do it all myself?
So let me explain. The tears that are welling up in my eyes are because I've been reminded by three men who have always been and always will be competent, helpful, loving, and caring that there are men out there who like to do a good job. They have helped me realize that I am not a person who is impossible to deal with and too demanding, that I am not too controlling and that my expectations are not too high. It may sound so simple to you, brothers and step Dad helping out for their niece/granddaughter's birthday, but it wasn't simple to me. It was a reminder of who I am. It helped me realize that some of the traits that I had labeled myself with while being in this one-man cult just aren't true characterizations. And I'm relieved.
Tuesday, April 7, 2015
April 7, 2015 ~ A Lesson for the Twenty-Somethings
I am incredibly lucky to have met a great group of ladies that started with a new Moms group that I joined when my son was only a few weeks old. Throughout the years, our group has grown in so many ways: more Moms have joined our circle, more babies have been born, and more love has evolved. We are all passionate about our children and make them top priority in our lives. One thing that makes this group of women so exceptional is that there is never any judgment. We all differ in so many ways but I have always felt supported by these women. They came to my rescue with food and help around the house when I threw my back out shortly after having my daughter was born. They have been caring and have offered a listening ear through my divorce. Every time I am around them I feel lifted up and supported.
As all new Moms have, we were told over and over again not to lose ourselves in our children. "Be sure to keep your identity in whatever ways possible." I heard it a thousand times and vowed that I wouldn't lose my identity as a person outside of being a Mom. But when you love a little human so immensely, you want to put all of your energy into making that person happy. And when you don't get a whole lot of help from your significant other, it's almost impossible to lead a balanced life. Without a doubt, I have lost myself in the almost four years since my son was born.
The "Moms" and I occasionally get together for girls' night but the majority of the times that we get together are child-centered, at birthday parties and play dates. When we do get out, we certainly enjoy ourselves. Last night some of us went to a Maroon 5 concert. Throughout the night, I noticed so many people sitting, staring at their phones, checking facebook or Twitter or sending email. They almost looked bored. Or like zombies. They may or may not have been annoyed by the Moms in the row behind them, dancing, singing, yelling, laughing, and having a fantastic time. But if they would have paid attention, they could have learned something from us. Instead of looking at a group of Moms who are whooping it up and thinking, "They need to get out more" (I know I used to think that) how about realizing that life is short? Let's enjoy the ride whenever we can and while we can.
As I am getting used to my daughter now spending three nights a week at MSTBE's house, having an empty house on those nights, I'm learning to reconnect with myself, redevelop hobbies that have gone by the wayside, and most importantly, to have fun. I feel like a person again, not just a Mom, and I am happier and more fulfilled. (If you know me or my blog at all, you know that I'm not saying that being a Mom is a bad thing but being only a Mom, not allowing yourself to have any other identity, can be.) I'm learning to get out there and have fun to the full extent possible when the opportunity presents itself. And to make myself a priority.
I leave you with a quote that I came across recently by Bipasha Basu, an Indian actress:
As all new Moms have, we were told over and over again not to lose ourselves in our children. "Be sure to keep your identity in whatever ways possible." I heard it a thousand times and vowed that I wouldn't lose my identity as a person outside of being a Mom. But when you love a little human so immensely, you want to put all of your energy into making that person happy. And when you don't get a whole lot of help from your significant other, it's almost impossible to lead a balanced life. Without a doubt, I have lost myself in the almost four years since my son was born.
The "Moms" and I occasionally get together for girls' night but the majority of the times that we get together are child-centered, at birthday parties and play dates. When we do get out, we certainly enjoy ourselves. Last night some of us went to a Maroon 5 concert. Throughout the night, I noticed so many people sitting, staring at their phones, checking facebook or Twitter or sending email. They almost looked bored. Or like zombies. They may or may not have been annoyed by the Moms in the row behind them, dancing, singing, yelling, laughing, and having a fantastic time. But if they would have paid attention, they could have learned something from us. Instead of looking at a group of Moms who are whooping it up and thinking, "They need to get out more" (I know I used to think that) how about realizing that life is short? Let's enjoy the ride whenever we can and while we can.
As I am getting used to my daughter now spending three nights a week at MSTBE's house, having an empty house on those nights, I'm learning to reconnect with myself, redevelop hobbies that have gone by the wayside, and most importantly, to have fun. I feel like a person again, not just a Mom, and I am happier and more fulfilled. (If you know me or my blog at all, you know that I'm not saying that being a Mom is a bad thing but being only a Mom, not allowing yourself to have any other identity, can be.) I'm learning to get out there and have fun to the full extent possible when the opportunity presents itself. And to make myself a priority.
I leave you with a quote that I came across recently by Bipasha Basu, an Indian actress:
"I want to tell women that you need to love yourself and make yourself a priority. It's only when you are happy yourself, can you make everyone else around you happy. I am still a dreamer and believe in fairy tales, but there is only that much on should give another person. You need to keep something for yourself."
Saturday, April 4, 2015
April 4, 2015 ~ And the Alternate Universe Continues
Tonight was the first weekend night that both of my babies slept away from me. And I was lucky enough to have my oldest friend, the friend that I've known longer than anyone else, the girl who has been there for me through so many crazy things in my life, go out with me for dinner and drinks.
We sat down for dinner at the sushi bar and shortly afterward, a new person was seated to my left. I had been turned to my right talking to my friend the whole time but I got distracted by the new person to my left. It was an attractive male sitting next to an older gentleman and he appeared to be helping him out in some way. At one point, I turned to my left and he turned to his right at the same time. Being that I'm not interested in a relationship or picking up on a guy, I had no problem just talking to him, despite his attractiveness, which would have made me nervous in the past, and mentioned how weird it was to sit next to someone with your back turned to them. I turned back to my friend but he continued the conversation by asking what was good. I answered and at another point, a few minutes later, I turned again and joined the conversation when the older gentleman asked about what I had just discussed with the younger gentleman.
As my friend and I were winding down our evening, I went to the restroom, where I do my best thinking (weird, I know), and wondered how I would respond if he asked me for my number. I was attracted to him but couldn't even imagine how I could date at this time in my life. My thought was that I'd give him my number and tell him upon the first phone call what my situation is.
And then what?
When I got back from the restroom, he was gone, in the restroom I assumed because the older gentleman was still there, and he came back a minute or two later. We locked eyes for a minute and I thought about starting up a conversation but decided against it.
I won't be the persuer again. I sincerely believe that the man needs to be the persuer. This probably sounds sexist but I believe in biology. I believe that men need to feel like the persuer and I believe that it's important for a woman to feel persued.
The world with me dating doesn't even exist in my mind, yet I have no problem striking up a conversation with an attractive gentleman at the sushi bar.
This is an alternate universe. One night I have bath and bedtime at 6 pm and another night I'm striking up a convo at the sushi bar until 10 pm.
We sat down for dinner at the sushi bar and shortly afterward, a new person was seated to my left. I had been turned to my right talking to my friend the whole time but I got distracted by the new person to my left. It was an attractive male sitting next to an older gentleman and he appeared to be helping him out in some way. At one point, I turned to my left and he turned to his right at the same time. Being that I'm not interested in a relationship or picking up on a guy, I had no problem just talking to him, despite his attractiveness, which would have made me nervous in the past, and mentioned how weird it was to sit next to someone with your back turned to them. I turned back to my friend but he continued the conversation by asking what was good. I answered and at another point, a few minutes later, I turned again and joined the conversation when the older gentleman asked about what I had just discussed with the younger gentleman.
As my friend and I were winding down our evening, I went to the restroom, where I do my best thinking (weird, I know), and wondered how I would respond if he asked me for my number. I was attracted to him but couldn't even imagine how I could date at this time in my life. My thought was that I'd give him my number and tell him upon the first phone call what my situation is.
And then what?
When I got back from the restroom, he was gone, in the restroom I assumed because the older gentleman was still there, and he came back a minute or two later. We locked eyes for a minute and I thought about starting up a conversation but decided against it.
I won't be the persuer again. I sincerely believe that the man needs to be the persuer. This probably sounds sexist but I believe in biology. I believe that men need to feel like the persuer and I believe that it's important for a woman to feel persued.
The world with me dating doesn't even exist in my mind, yet I have no problem striking up a conversation with an attractive gentleman at the sushi bar.
This is an alternate universe. One night I have bath and bedtime at 6 pm and another night I'm striking up a convo at the sushi bar until 10 pm.
Sunday, March 29, 2015
March 29, 2015 ~ A Day That I've Been Dreading for a Very Long Time
I got a lump in my throat tonight when I walked into my daughter's room to put her laundry away and saw her empty crib. I thought, "No, I'm not ready for this. I want to take it back." But this isn't about me. This is about doing what's best for my kids.
I started to make this post about the logistics of the day and told the story about driving 20 minutes to MSTBE's because my daughter had changed her mind about spending the night only to learn that she really didn't want to change her mind, followed by receiving a text from MSTBE seconds before pulling back into my driveway 20 minutes later saying that I should come and get her because she was upset. (She ended up being fine and I didn't go back.) But I don't think that is the story that you want to hear. Logistics are boring. The emotions are what a diary is all about and why I'm really writing this blog. So here goes...
All week long I had a pretty good feeling that tonight was going to be the first night that my baby girl spent the night outside of my house for the first time. She's been asking to spend the night at MSTBE's for about two weeks and she's taken a nap there several times on the weekend. As much as I've been dreading this day and feeling absolutely and completely not ready for it, I had found a way to put a positive spin on it. I got excited about being able to do yoga for the first time since she was born. (I did prenatal yoga throughout both of my pregnancies because my body needed it badly; other than that, I had never made time for it since my son was born.) I started thinking about how I was going to spend my day and night and about all of the things that have been hanging over my head that I'd be able to get done. Today I even started thinking about the notion of waking up for work in the morning and only having myself to worry about getting ready. What a novel idea. These were exciting prospects. Exciting enough to distract me from the reality of an empty crib.
I went to yoga, which felt fantastic for so many reasons. I did four load of laundry. I washed all of our sheets and made all of our beds. I hung up all of the laundry, which is something that almost never gets done. I updated my budget and sat down to really spend some time analyzing it. I made a roast. I did dishes (because there are always dishes to do). I went to a restaurant for a couple of hours with my family. I made ranch dressing from scratch. I watched a little bit of TV.
I won't lie. It feels nice to have had some me time and some quiet time. But it's also difficult seeing that empty crib.
What I have to remind myself is what I said at the top of this post: this isn't about me. My kids need their Dad. If she's ready to start spending nights there, then that's what is going to happen. Never in my life will I hold my kids back from something because I'm not ready for it to happen. I will challenge them and push them forward, not hinder them. I will support them and their desires even if they conflict with my wants and needs. I will always focus on what is best for them. Because they are the loves of my life.
I started to make this post about the logistics of the day and told the story about driving 20 minutes to MSTBE's because my daughter had changed her mind about spending the night only to learn that she really didn't want to change her mind, followed by receiving a text from MSTBE seconds before pulling back into my driveway 20 minutes later saying that I should come and get her because she was upset. (She ended up being fine and I didn't go back.) But I don't think that is the story that you want to hear. Logistics are boring. The emotions are what a diary is all about and why I'm really writing this blog. So here goes...
All week long I had a pretty good feeling that tonight was going to be the first night that my baby girl spent the night outside of my house for the first time. She's been asking to spend the night at MSTBE's for about two weeks and she's taken a nap there several times on the weekend. As much as I've been dreading this day and feeling absolutely and completely not ready for it, I had found a way to put a positive spin on it. I got excited about being able to do yoga for the first time since she was born. (I did prenatal yoga throughout both of my pregnancies because my body needed it badly; other than that, I had never made time for it since my son was born.) I started thinking about how I was going to spend my day and night and about all of the things that have been hanging over my head that I'd be able to get done. Today I even started thinking about the notion of waking up for work in the morning and only having myself to worry about getting ready. What a novel idea. These were exciting prospects. Exciting enough to distract me from the reality of an empty crib.
I went to yoga, which felt fantastic for so many reasons. I did four load of laundry. I washed all of our sheets and made all of our beds. I hung up all of the laundry, which is something that almost never gets done. I updated my budget and sat down to really spend some time analyzing it. I made a roast. I did dishes (because there are always dishes to do). I went to a restaurant for a couple of hours with my family. I made ranch dressing from scratch. I watched a little bit of TV.
I won't lie. It feels nice to have had some me time and some quiet time. But it's also difficult seeing that empty crib.
What I have to remind myself is what I said at the top of this post: this isn't about me. My kids need their Dad. If she's ready to start spending nights there, then that's what is going to happen. Never in my life will I hold my kids back from something because I'm not ready for it to happen. I will challenge them and push them forward, not hinder them. I will support them and their desires even if they conflict with my wants and needs. I will always focus on what is best for them. Because they are the loves of my life.
Sunday, March 8, 2015
March 8, 2015 ~ I Just Can't Get It Through My Thick Skull
I'm faced with a particular lesson time after time, one that you're probably faced with fairly regularly as well, and I just can't get it through my thick skull. You see, I have high expectations. Probably too high. My Dad always expected a lot out of my brothers and me when we were kids because he knew that we could achieve to those expectations. My Advanced Placement US History teacher put it well my junior year in high school. He said that he had high expectations of us so that we would rise to the challenge in his class; if he lowered his expectations then we wouldn't rise as high.
Well, I have high expectations in many aspects of my life, mostly of myself, which is why I beat myself up quite often when I don't perform well or when I don't handle myself well in a difficult situation. But I also have high expectations of those around me. The lesson that I need to learn, that needs to be bashed into my head over and over again, is that people are who they are no matter how high your expectations of them are. A father/daughter or student/teacher relationship is a completely different scenario than most relationships and the concept of high expectations doesn't really translate. You can have all the expectations that you want in a friendship or romantic relationship or even in family relationships outside of parent to child but the other person really is who they are and they will continue to behave the way the do no matter your expectations of them.
I sincerely believe (and have for a very long time) that expectations in relationships are one of the main reasons for failures. I'm talking about all kinds of expectations. It might be an expectation that has been embedded in your head from a TV show about how a marriage is "supposed to" look. Or it might be the way that you expect a special event or vacation will go. Or you might expect that a person will change their behavior when they "grow up" or when you get married or when you have a baby. Either way, the reality is likely not going to live up to the expectation, which will undoubtedly lead to disappointment.
Sometimes I think that I set up expectations of the way something is going to go without considering the normal behavior of others. It's a very short sighted way of looking at things and also often leads to disappointment.
Considering that I've believed for a very long time that expectations in relationships are generally evil, long before I ever got married, you would think that I'd be better about not setting myself up for these disappointments. But I'm not. And to make matters worse, I still allow myself to be saddened by people's behavior when they don't meet my high expectations, even if it is typical behavior for them. I have known for a very long time that I need to work on becoming more accepting of people's shortcomings, including my own. I know that gaining this skill will improve my relationships but, more importantly, it will make me a happier, more satisfied person.
Well, I have high expectations in many aspects of my life, mostly of myself, which is why I beat myself up quite often when I don't perform well or when I don't handle myself well in a difficult situation. But I also have high expectations of those around me. The lesson that I need to learn, that needs to be bashed into my head over and over again, is that people are who they are no matter how high your expectations of them are. A father/daughter or student/teacher relationship is a completely different scenario than most relationships and the concept of high expectations doesn't really translate. You can have all the expectations that you want in a friendship or romantic relationship or even in family relationships outside of parent to child but the other person really is who they are and they will continue to behave the way the do no matter your expectations of them.
I sincerely believe (and have for a very long time) that expectations in relationships are one of the main reasons for failures. I'm talking about all kinds of expectations. It might be an expectation that has been embedded in your head from a TV show about how a marriage is "supposed to" look. Or it might be the way that you expect a special event or vacation will go. Or you might expect that a person will change their behavior when they "grow up" or when you get married or when you have a baby. Either way, the reality is likely not going to live up to the expectation, which will undoubtedly lead to disappointment.
Sometimes I think that I set up expectations of the way something is going to go without considering the normal behavior of others. It's a very short sighted way of looking at things and also often leads to disappointment.
Considering that I've believed for a very long time that expectations in relationships are generally evil, long before I ever got married, you would think that I'd be better about not setting myself up for these disappointments. But I'm not. And to make matters worse, I still allow myself to be saddened by people's behavior when they don't meet my high expectations, even if it is typical behavior for them. I have known for a very long time that I need to work on becoming more accepting of people's shortcomings, including my own. I know that gaining this skill will improve my relationships but, more importantly, it will make me a happier, more satisfied person.
Sunday, March 1, 2015
March 1, 2015 ~ The Beginning of Another New Chapter
Yesterday was the first day that my daughter napped at MSTBE's house. Once she gets used to napping there, she will spend her first night there and eventually she will spend three nights a week there, like my son does now. I have been both dreading and looking forward to this new beginning for a very long time.
I'm not sure if I can explain how this impeding change has made me feel so that someone who hasn't been through this could understand it, but I'm going to try. I can't even come up with the right words for the feelings I'm experiencing. I started to type the words "fear and sadness" but that seems a bit too dramatic. However it is a little bit of fear and a little bit of sadness and a little bit of a whole lot more, particularly because my daughter is my baby, my last child. It was difficult when my son started napping at MSTBE's house but this feels more difficult because of my daughter's age. (My son was almost three years old when MSTBE and I split and he didn't start napping at MSTBE's house right away. My daughter isn't quite two yet.)
I held on to my marriage for much longer than I should have partly because I did not want to spend nights with my kids sleeping outside of my house. I think that all parents understand the feeling of comfort that comes with knowing that your kids are tucked in safely just on the other side of a wall or down the hall. Well, that's a comfort that's been cut in half since my son started sleeping at MSTBE's, and soon enough it will be gone completely three nights per week.
But there's also a feeling of helplessness, knowing that I won't be there when they need something. I want to be there if either of them has a nightmare and when they get sick in the middle of the night, but I won't always be able to be that comfort for them. I know that this helpless feeling will willow away as my kids get older and more self sufficient; it's easier to deal with in regard to my son because he is two years older than my daughter. But I can't imagine that it will ever be gone completely.
The worst part though is that I will miss out on 3/7ths of all of the goodnight kisses and reading books and snuggles. There is so much bonding that goes on at bedtime and I truly miss those moments with my son. It seems like it will be more difficult to give up those moments with my daughter though because, at this age, I still rock with her in a rocking chair and gently place her in her crib to fall asleep. She still wants me to sing to her every single night after we read books.
How do I get through this? The same way that I get through everything. When I find myself wallowing in fear or sorrow or sadness, I remember that there is a positive side to every situation.
I know that my life is very unbalanced right now and that I get zero time to do things for myself. I know that living this way is unhealthy. I know that it effects my mood and my ability to be the best Mom that I can be. Once I have a little bit more time to myself, I'm going to dedicate a good portion of it not to doing more around the house or working more but to doing things that make me happy. I will start doing yoga and running and cooking more. I will spend some time with friends outside the context of playdates. And as I get more comfortable with the idea of having a bit of time to myself, I am certain that I will develop new hobbies or rekindle my love for old ones that I've forgotten about. These are the reasons that I have felt a little bit of anticipation, why I have actually been looking forward to what will be a difficult change for me. I know that it will be a positive change for everyone.
I'm not sure if I can explain how this impeding change has made me feel so that someone who hasn't been through this could understand it, but I'm going to try. I can't even come up with the right words for the feelings I'm experiencing. I started to type the words "fear and sadness" but that seems a bit too dramatic. However it is a little bit of fear and a little bit of sadness and a little bit of a whole lot more, particularly because my daughter is my baby, my last child. It was difficult when my son started napping at MSTBE's house but this feels more difficult because of my daughter's age. (My son was almost three years old when MSTBE and I split and he didn't start napping at MSTBE's house right away. My daughter isn't quite two yet.)
I held on to my marriage for much longer than I should have partly because I did not want to spend nights with my kids sleeping outside of my house. I think that all parents understand the feeling of comfort that comes with knowing that your kids are tucked in safely just on the other side of a wall or down the hall. Well, that's a comfort that's been cut in half since my son started sleeping at MSTBE's, and soon enough it will be gone completely three nights per week.
But there's also a feeling of helplessness, knowing that I won't be there when they need something. I want to be there if either of them has a nightmare and when they get sick in the middle of the night, but I won't always be able to be that comfort for them. I know that this helpless feeling will willow away as my kids get older and more self sufficient; it's easier to deal with in regard to my son because he is two years older than my daughter. But I can't imagine that it will ever be gone completely.
The worst part though is that I will miss out on 3/7ths of all of the goodnight kisses and reading books and snuggles. There is so much bonding that goes on at bedtime and I truly miss those moments with my son. It seems like it will be more difficult to give up those moments with my daughter though because, at this age, I still rock with her in a rocking chair and gently place her in her crib to fall asleep. She still wants me to sing to her every single night after we read books.
How do I get through this? The same way that I get through everything. When I find myself wallowing in fear or sorrow or sadness, I remember that there is a positive side to every situation.
I know that my life is very unbalanced right now and that I get zero time to do things for myself. I know that living this way is unhealthy. I know that it effects my mood and my ability to be the best Mom that I can be. Once I have a little bit more time to myself, I'm going to dedicate a good portion of it not to doing more around the house or working more but to doing things that make me happy. I will start doing yoga and running and cooking more. I will spend some time with friends outside the context of playdates. And as I get more comfortable with the idea of having a bit of time to myself, I am certain that I will develop new hobbies or rekindle my love for old ones that I've forgotten about. These are the reasons that I have felt a little bit of anticipation, why I have actually been looking forward to what will be a difficult change for me. I know that it will be a positive change for everyone.
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