For months you know its coming. You dread it, but try not to focus on it, but before you know it, its here and you can't avoid it any longer. Although what has happened can't really be described as sleep, you wake at 3:00 a.m. and he's in the shower, getting ready to leave.
He loads his bags into the car, and you're already crying , though you said you wouldn't. You grab H, and snuggle him close before securing him into his car seat, still in the far back of the van left over from the big farewell trip to FL. Meanwhile, he loads the princess into her seat and buckles her tight. Your eyes meet his and he knows you have been crying again. You hope he understands that you aren't trying to make it harder on him. He knows you, so hopefully that's enough for now and he won't feel guilty about leaving - its not like he wants to go either.
The airport is hard. You knew it would be. H wants out of his seat, and once he's free, K has to chime in with requests for freedom too, which is okay because they need to be able to give Daddy big hugs and kisses before he leaves anyway. You both strap them back in two minutes later. All you want to do is stay as long as you can and prolong the inevitable, but you know none of the other wives are still hanging out, and the kids will be insane if left loose in their pajamas and slippers for too long and he's already asked you not to stay.
Driving away the tears fall again, and you console yourself talking to the kids and searching for the way out of the airport so that you can find your way home, hoping all along that the kids will go back to sleep easily, since its barely 4:00 a.m. The guards on the gate don't understand why you can't figure out which of the four of them standing around is checking I.D.'s and you can't be bothered to care too much, you just want to get home.
The kids stay awake, and act like they won't be going back down, but you bundle them into bed with you anyway and pray for the best as silent tears fall. K chatters along, babbling about nothing and everything and eventually drifts off to sleep snuggling her bunny-bear, on her pink princess pillow, which has been been squished in next to yours. H has drifted off after a short argument about whether or not Spidey needed to be put into night mode so he can snore (which also results in him talking each time he gets bumped in the night). Bunny-bear in one arm, a silenced Spidey in the other, H sleeps peacefully on his Cars pillow which is on the other side from K.
You know that being smashed in the middle of a nearly 3, and nearly 2 year old will not be the most comfy place, but its what you need to get your head on straight as you try to fall asleep too. Fox News in the background rehashes the Rev. Wright fallout and its affect on Obama's campaign for president for the thousandth time. Sick of hearing about it, you douse the volume and try to keep thoughts of any kind from crowding out your head.
A deep inhale of K's slightly stale milk breath reminds you that last night they brushed their teeth too early. Her feathery soft blonde hair falls over her face, and again you debate whether it would be trimmed at some point, but it's baby softness steels your resolve to leave it be for a while longer. A foot in the belly and a knee in the back remind you of the blessings that will help keep you sane over the next 8 months or so. From the inside, baby is apparently not thrilled with your middle of the night adventures, and decides to make his or her presence known as well.
Somewhere in the middle of all this, you drift off to sleep with a deep sense of loss, thinking of all of the things you wanted to do before he left, but knowing that it never really gets done - not all of it. His car isn't in the garage because you never finished clearing space for the beast. Those family photos never got taken, and as usual, you have pictures of you with the kids, and him with the kids, and none really with all four of you together - not since just before he left the last time, when K was only a week old.
And so, the cycle begins again, and just as before your little family will manage the separation and deal with everything that comes along the way somehow.
He loads his bags into the car, and you're already crying , though you said you wouldn't. You grab H, and snuggle him close before securing him into his car seat, still in the far back of the van left over from the big farewell trip to FL. Meanwhile, he loads the princess into her seat and buckles her tight. Your eyes meet his and he knows you have been crying again. You hope he understands that you aren't trying to make it harder on him. He knows you, so hopefully that's enough for now and he won't feel guilty about leaving - its not like he wants to go either.
The airport is hard. You knew it would be. H wants out of his seat, and once he's free, K has to chime in with requests for freedom too, which is okay because they need to be able to give Daddy big hugs and kisses before he leaves anyway. You both strap them back in two minutes later. All you want to do is stay as long as you can and prolong the inevitable, but you know none of the other wives are still hanging out, and the kids will be insane if left loose in their pajamas and slippers for too long and he's already asked you not to stay.
Driving away the tears fall again, and you console yourself talking to the kids and searching for the way out of the airport so that you can find your way home, hoping all along that the kids will go back to sleep easily, since its barely 4:00 a.m. The guards on the gate don't understand why you can't figure out which of the four of them standing around is checking I.D.'s and you can't be bothered to care too much, you just want to get home.
The kids stay awake, and act like they won't be going back down, but you bundle them into bed with you anyway and pray for the best as silent tears fall. K chatters along, babbling about nothing and everything and eventually drifts off to sleep snuggling her bunny-bear, on her pink princess pillow, which has been been squished in next to yours. H has drifted off after a short argument about whether or not Spidey needed to be put into night mode so he can snore (which also results in him talking each time he gets bumped in the night). Bunny-bear in one arm, a silenced Spidey in the other, H sleeps peacefully on his Cars pillow which is on the other side from K.
You know that being smashed in the middle of a nearly 3, and nearly 2 year old will not be the most comfy place, but its what you need to get your head on straight as you try to fall asleep too. Fox News in the background rehashes the Rev. Wright fallout and its affect on Obama's campaign for president for the thousandth time. Sick of hearing about it, you douse the volume and try to keep thoughts of any kind from crowding out your head.A deep inhale of K's slightly stale milk breath reminds you that last night they brushed their teeth too early. Her feathery soft blonde hair falls over her face, and again you debate whether it would be trimmed at some point, but it's baby softness steels your resolve to leave it be for a while longer. A foot in the belly and a knee in the back remind you of the blessings that will help keep you sane over the next 8 months or so. From the inside, baby is apparently not thrilled with your middle of the night adventures, and decides to make his or her presence known as well.
Somewhere in the middle of all this, you drift off to sleep with a deep sense of loss, thinking of all of the things you wanted to do before he left, but knowing that it never really gets done - not all of it. His car isn't in the garage because you never finished clearing space for the beast. Those family photos never got taken, and as usual, you have pictures of you with the kids, and him with the kids, and none really with all four of you together - not since just before he left the last time, when K was only a week old.
And so, the cycle begins again, and just as before your little family will manage the separation and deal with everything that comes along the way somehow.
1 comment:
Just wanted to send along lots of ((HUGS)) and PT for the next 8 months. I pray they go by quickly for you.
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