I’m writing reluctantly. I have a scratchy throat and stuffy nose, and I’m not yet back in the groove.
Somehow, amazingly, I’m feeling a little better about living here. I’m not sure what happened with my attitude on that subject, but driving around today, I felt… content – almost. Maybe I’m growing up, after all.
This evening I was in the kids’ bathroom, and as I glanced at their soaps and shampoos lined up in the shower, I remembered back to the time when I could never imagine being without them for a day, much less a weekend or more. The thought of any type of custody sharing was enough to prevent me from ever considering divorce as a real option for many years.
I smiled to myself, as I thought of all the other women who are too afraid to leave their marriages because the idea of missing a holiday with their children is more than they can bear. Maybe they are like I was… single mothers with rings on their fingers, sharing their beds but not their lives… devoting themselves entirely to motherhood and wanting, needing help, but unwilling to give up control to get it… neglecting themselves and hating the fact that their husbands have a life, while they are cleaning up spilled cheerios and getting fat.
And I thought… if only they knew the truth… that letting go allows the children a brand new opportunity to bond with their father, and the father gets a chance to finally be a dad. And the big bonus – we women get some well-deserved time to ourselves… some peace and quiet… hair salon appointments without toddlers in strollers… using the toilet without hearing the inevitable “Mom!!!!” and, perhaps best of all – two whole weekends a month with complete control of the remote.
I miss them. I always do. But we all deserve the gifts of this new life. All of us. Especially them.
They finally have two parents.