Yesterday I had to drop my kids back off at their dad's after only seeing them for 24 hours. We had a really great Sunday and despite my anxiety about taking them to an outdoor concert with 100,000 people, they managed to surprise me with their awesomeness at the Blues Festival. We danced! And sang! And they got soaked in the waterfront fountain!
So taking them back to their dad the next day was hard. I've learned my lesson about how long I can be away from them. Two weeks is officially my limit and sadly, we still have another week to go. I usually joke that whether I'm getting my kids or dropping them off, I always look forward to Mondays, but this time I just wanted to cry.
And as soon as I left the driveway, I did.
Then I somehow managed to get through most of the day without ruining my makeup, right up until Genoa called before bed and told me SHE'D been crying because she missed me, too, and I totally lost it.
Of course it certainly didn't help when she told me my parents were due the next morning to take her and her brother to a water park resort for the next four days. (They went behind my back through Dave.) (Again.)
Cue the Ugly Cry:
I cried so hard when I hung up the phone that I think I ruined one of Joel's good shirts with my mascara and unfortunately, I still haven't really been able to stop for more than an hour at a time. I'm basically a giant oozing eye-socket.
I'm not sure why it should hurt me this much because there's nothing I can (or would) do about it, but it does. I can't tell if it's because this is the longest I've gone without really seeing my kids. Or the sting of the betrayal? Or maybe it's the incredible saddness I've been lugging around since letting go of my parents.
My vat of grief is as deep as ever and every time I start crying, I feel like a bird swimming through the Exxon Valdez. I have a hundred things to mourn, but right now I'm just crushed that my parents get to kiss my kids goodnight and I don't.
I really, really miss them.