I’ll just say it. I miss my children. I worry about them. It’s the first time that they’ve ever been away from me for more than two nights at a time. In fact, until EX’s visitation started a few weeks ago, they had never been away from me for more than one night.
Now they’re away for five nights, in a faraway state. With my EX, who is quite possibly the world’s least responsible father and most reprehensible role model on Earth. A man who lives without conscience and who walked out on his wife and children for 13 months, never once asking for an overnight with his children until he realized his wife was asking for full physical custody. And then he began the most vicious fight my seasoned attorneys have ever seen.
I know he’ll be on his best behavior for this trip, and he’ll fake being a nice guy and good dad. He might even fool my children. But I know the truth about him. And it makes me sick with worry.
One mom in my town said that she crawled under her kitchen table after her EX took her children for the first time. I did not do that. But it sounded perfectly reasonable, and somehow comforting, as I looked out the window and watched my children walk away from me and our home, with their little sandals and knapsacks and freckles and sun-bleached hair.
They come home tomorrow, so I guess I’ve nearly survived these six days and five nights. I’ve gotten things done. I caught up on sleep and emails and bills and phone calls. I started packing the house up – years of toys and clutter and photographs and artwork and baby shoes and little chewed-up board books – a life. A good life somehow, despite the divorce.
I am so ready for my children to come home. We need to continue this life.