Sunday, July 8, 2012

Madly rushing about

I'm very sorry that I haven't been on here very much, and that I haven't taken time to reply to comments or emails.  I am running around in a rather manic fashion, trying to make everything perfect, and as perfection is impossible, this is a doomed mission that keeps me spinning.  I miss being here, but, well, it's been a wild week.

Deep breaths.

So, let's see.  I'm trying to clean the house, from top to bottom, and while I've made great progress there is always so much to do.  And the yard is a bit of a wreck, and I'm determined to get it under control.  And I've been trying to connect with friends.  And most of all, I've been trying to help Katherine to have a good adjustment.

It is a lot easier to remove deadwood from the hydrangea, or to clean out the junk drawer(s), than it is to help a child to adjust to the fact that her mom and dad don't live in the same house any more.

Katherine and I have been doing a wave of adventures, always with one or more of her friends, and frankly it's exhausting both of us, and it's time to pull back a bit.  This weekend we were a couple hundred miles away, visiting friends and Bryan's parents (his dad is in ill health, and I think it critically important that Katherine sees him frequently, knowing full well that every time might be the last), and we even brought one of Katherine's friends with us (my favorite friend, even though I try not to have favorites; she is an easy going kid, kind and sweet and smart and funny, delightful to be around, and she is Katherine's favorite, too).  We went to a noisy pool, we went to a city fountain geared towards wading children, we explored, we hung out.  Today we fought horrendous traffic to get home, but listened to a bit more Vinyl Cafe and half of a book on CD.

But none of this busy activity removes the fact that Katherine is sad.  Her father wasn't here when she got home, and tears rolled down her face - she didn't want to come inside, knowing that Daddy wouldn't be there to greet her.  I held her and let her cry, and felt helpless and guilty and sad, unsure of the right words to make it okay.  It's not okay; words will not make it so.  I sent Bryan a message telling him that Katherine missed him and asking if he could come by to say hi, and he did, and this gave her a great deal of comfort, but I wonder if it's enough.

Bryan has been late to pick Katherine up, and early to drop her off, when it's been his day.  He's on the bench, not working, so he has nothing but time on his hands, and I've been trying to pick up some extra hours at work, but he hasn't wanted "extra" days with his daughter.  (Reminder: he has her every other weekend, so four days per month, plus Wednesday evenings for a couple hours.  This is not a 50/50 agreement by a long shot, and I can't fathom how he'd be okay with so little.)  On his days, he's actually brought her by for a couple of hours with me, unannounced, and at lunch time.  (Seriously?!)  So, when Katherine says, "It's not fair.  I want half with you, and half with Daddy, and I don't see Daddy enough," I am not at all sure what to say.  I give platitudes like "You can call Daddy whenever you like," but it makes me ache for her because she is bright and can see that she just doesn't spend much time with Dad.

My "vacation" is over, and I'm exhausted - this hasn't exactly been restful - but I'm back to work tomorrow, and Katherine is bouncing from friend to friend through the week.  Now we get down to the real work of adjusting.


  1. I'm in an "it's complicated" situation (asked for divorce, he didn't seem to hear in limbo.) Anyway, this one really struck a chord. There are days when the children's father has the ENTIRE day off (during the week) and complains if I ask him to drop the kids at daycare/school, and will leave them at daycare/aftercare until the LAST possible moment, or just have me pick them up. Yet when he's gone, he constantly comments about how much he misses them. REALLY? Then how about you choose to parent when you are here? Oh, it's a hard one. Wishing you the best with all of this.

  2. I'm so sorry. I know that breaks your heart for her to be sad. It kills me when mine are that way. Good luck with it all.

  3. The sadness can feel overwhelming, but I'm learning how to allow her, and myself, the sadness while knowing that it will pass. It's uncomfortable territory, often heartbreaking, but I believe there is no way out but through.... Thanks for the empathy. It helps to know I'm in good company.