We arrived home from our big weekend in Chicago with CB in tow, fresh from her stay with her Dad, his wife M and his whole family for a week. When I say fresh, I mean it the same way my mother used to say "Don't use that fresh tone with me, young lady." She's fresh, alright. Freshly spoilt. It's to be expected. But, dealing with it isn't a rose garden.
Getting your child back from their other parent is a double edged sword as with so many things in loving your child. On one hand you feel complete, an aching hole is filled, the world is brighter. On the other, your head feels like it is in a vice with the constant whining, jokes you don't find funny (but the child's other biological half clearly did) and the general exhaustion that can strike anytime, but seems to strike harder when you've had a week of peace and quiet.
I've done this before, so I know that my patience runs thin that first week, despite my joy at having my girl back. When my mother asked if she and my dad could take CB for the weekend right after she returned, I didn't hesitate with my "yes."
My sister KW decided to come out from Philly for an impromptu visit and take CB up to my parents' house for them, a day early. Monday night, sitting around the dinner table, I mentioned KW's visit and CB's subsequent departure. Much to my surprise, H got indignant. "So, CB is going away AGAIN?" he asked. I said yes. His voice went up two octaves and he said "But, we just got her back -and now she's going to leave again?!" I explained that my parents hadn't seen her at Christmas. He went on: "But, she's ours! She should be here with us, not going everywhere else!"
H's indignant response was music to my ears. So is the way he'll quietly take CB under his wing and teach her things, or the way he'll patiently play Candy Land with a two year old who has the attention span of a gnat because he sees the value of teaching her to love board games, knowing that it's an investment in years of beating her at chess. For my part, I think she'll give him a run for his money.
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As we do half a week with Z and half a week without, I find the coming and going gets easier and harder.
We just came back from camping in Port Fairy with Z and last night when we met Z's mum for the 'handover' it broke my heart that our holiday with him was over and we'd be going home to a quiet house.
The silence is deafening when all three of them are gone. The realization on Friday morning, as I look forward to the weekend - that they are not coming home tonight, that the shape of our days, the form of our family will shift. Oh. It is yuck.
Of course, then we go out, without need of a babysitter and get to behave like people without children. No worries about what time to wake up in the morning... Delicious irresponsibility.
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