Two Inches Closer
I'm sleeping with my door open tonight.
Doesn't sound like a huge deal, but it is for me. I'm a zero noise, pitch black sleep kind of girl. Closing the bedroom door feels like a security blanket. But I couldn't do it tonight.
This next week is my "vacation week" with my kiddos. Our actual vacation blew up when I found out the family I'd be visiting would be too busy and also, gas prices basically require collateral now. However, I'll still be happily enjoying my kids for 2 extra days, so then won't be working my typical work week.
This weekend was also the first beautiful spring weekend of the season... of the patio season. Playing the necessary politics of staying on good graces, I begrudgingly asked for a sitter and picked up the opening weekend patio shift at my job to help out. I did this two weekends ago, on my last weekend with my kids, and it ended up being an extra long shift. I felt terrible missing the day, of the few non-school days I get, with my kids. Then, here I was, I did it again the very next Saturday they were home!! What was I thinking?! Guilt. Guilt is what I was thinking. And fear, lots of that too. Guilt over not being able to have an open availability at my job, for needing to set boundaries on when I can work so that I am able to care for my kids when I have them. Guilt because I had needed to request off of the upcoming shifts for our "vacation". Fear that if I don't pick up more shifts, I won't be scheduled more shifts, or enough shifts. Fear it will hurt my finances and my family.
I cried twice tonight while at work. I knew what I was missing, the adventures, the laughing, seeing the pure enjoyment of the moment splashed across their little faces, the stress, the missing shoes, the muddy pants, the chaos. I missed it all. I saw some friends of mine at my job, friends I love, but there was this angry, little, fiery voice inside me, angry that they were there, for hours. Why are you still here? Don't you know of what you're missing with your kids at home?
Very few people can understand this kind of painful anguish. If you are a 50%- custody- parent you might. Every single day, every single plan you make, matters. Your days are literally, legally, numbered. Far less than you thought you'd have when you brought them into this world. And fuck it's hard. I came home two and a half hours later than expected. Just in time to grasp a few minutes with them, gathering up their little pieces that were falling apart after a full day of anticipation and energy, before 2 of the 3 fell asleep right there on the couch. And that was it. The day was over. I missed it all.
As I carried my 8 year old to her bed (my deep-feeler), I told her I loved her and missed her today. She sleepily mumbled a reply to me: "I missed you too, I was thinking of all the things we can do with you tomorrow."
Was it worth the money? No. It wasn't. I can tell you that for certain. I'd rather live in a cardboard box and eat the picked-over leftovers from the dishes I bus... BUT, I don't think my kids should have to. I will tell you though, and let this story be a reminder for my future self, no more picking up shifts on my Saturdays and Sundays with my kids. Come what may.
So here I lie, bedroom door wide open to my house, a light flowing in from my living room and washing over my duvet - but it's allowing me to be approximately 2 inches closer to my kids tonight.