Three little monkeys jumping on the bed...
I think the hardest part in this whole ride is knowing, right now, right this minute, that in a few days I will be off kilter and out of balance, as I will be desperately missing my children. And there's nothing I can do about it.
Its' something I know I will experience, a given like high tide or the full moon. Every May I feel myself bracing for the loss of June, when my boys head to LA to visit their father for the summer.
The first day day is always like a vacation; there is less to do, less to worry about, I loaf and watch tv and hang out with Sydney. By day three, the carefree, breezy joy of vacation has ebbed away and I'm left yearning for their boyish charm, their goofy jokes, the constant wrestling and laughter and ridiculous accusations over everything and nothing. It's a mild frenzy that fills my days and without it I feel completely off kilter.
The saving grace the last few years has been Sydney. The emotional chasm left by my boys has decreased slightly with the arrival of my sunshine girl, aka, little Ms. Busy. Keeping up with her "Don't walk, Run" way of life, her animated chatter, her desire to be with me everywhere, ALWAYS (bathroom or no bathroom), has helped divert my focus away from some of the misery of loss I feel when my boys are away.
But the added difficulty this year is that -- with this ride-- there is no Sydney either. In fact, I will be completely childless, which I find terribly unnerving.
The challenges of facing hills and sores and tired muscles and tent sleeping is something I absorb and understand on a physical level. The knowledge and expectation that I will be pining vociferously for my children, all three of my beautiful, perfect, ne'er do wrong monkeys is a physical pain that Advil and more liquids won't resolve. It's just part of it all.
Its' something I know I will experience, a given like high tide or the full moon. Every May I feel myself bracing for the loss of June, when my boys head to LA to visit their father for the summer.
The first day day is always like a vacation; there is less to do, less to worry about, I loaf and watch tv and hang out with Sydney. By day three, the carefree, breezy joy of vacation has ebbed away and I'm left yearning for their boyish charm, their goofy jokes, the constant wrestling and laughter and ridiculous accusations over everything and nothing. It's a mild frenzy that fills my days and without it I feel completely off kilter.
The saving grace the last few years has been Sydney. The emotional chasm left by my boys has decreased slightly with the arrival of my sunshine girl, aka, little Ms. Busy. Keeping up with her "Don't walk, Run" way of life, her animated chatter, her desire to be with me everywhere, ALWAYS (bathroom or no bathroom), has helped divert my focus away from some of the misery of loss I feel when my boys are away.
But the added difficulty this year is that -- with this ride-- there is no Sydney either. In fact, I will be completely childless, which I find terribly unnerving.
The challenges of facing hills and sores and tired muscles and tent sleeping is something I absorb and understand on a physical level. The knowledge and expectation that I will be pining vociferously for my children, all three of my beautiful, perfect, ne'er do wrong monkeys is a physical pain that Advil and more liquids won't resolve. It's just part of it all.
posted by @traciAWESOME
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