Dada on airplane

Stan is on the other coast this week. After seeing him off at the airport earlier today, Puddin' and I had a mostly uneventful day. We laughed and played and read books, with only a few minor meltdowns. After her bath, Puddin' resisted going to bed, screaming loud and long. When I went in to check on her I asked if she was sad. "Yeah. I sad because I so sad." "Do you miss the rest of the family?" "Dada on airplane. Not here." We took a minute to pray for Stan, for Puddin', and for Monkey & Peanut who are at their mom's this weekend. Afterwards, Puddin' lay down and asked me to tuck her blanket around her. I wish I could be comforted by something so simple.


I'm single-mom this week, which has me a tad bit stressed. This weekend I just have Puddin' to distract me. Then on Monday, Monkey & Peanut come back to our house and we go back to the usual weekly pattern. On a normal day, I race through all the kid and house stuff and then Stan gets home just about the time my energy (or patience, or sanity) is about to run out. The kids run to greet him, he rushes to kiss me, and everything turns out just fine. I'm really going to miss those kisses.


Mostly likely things will still be just fine - we've got strong relationships and good routines here - but something is missing when Stan's not here. He's steady and strong. He keeps his cool long after I've run out of steam. He sees humor even when things aren't going according to plan. If only he didn't have to go away I think I could handle this situation just fine.

Hope it's a great trip, honey, but hurry home.

Normal

Stan is headed off to the West Coast for business soon. When he travels we usually offer Monkey & Peanut's mom extra time with them. (I don't mind caring for them alone so it's mostly for courtesy.) It took a while for her to respond to the offer so I found myself running through possible scenarios of what the week could look like for me.

While custody for the near future was still in limbo, I had reason to plan an emergency trip down South. My grandmother had a serious stroke and was initially given very little chance of recovery. The cousins are scattered around the globe and we each made plans to get back to the homestead as quickly as possible. Granny is doing better than expected, though, and might stabilize. The trip plans are ready to initiate at a moment's notice but on hold. Meanwhile, Monkey & Peanut's mom has decided not to take any extra time during Stan's upcoming trip. After facing so many possible changes to the routine, I'm going forward with business as usual.

Normal has returned. In one sense I'm enjoying it. I like knowing what to expect and how to organize my day and week. All three girls thrive when their environment is stable so there's great benefit to keeping things the same. On the other hand, I was looking forward to a change and some possible adventure. Granny isn't out of the woods so the trip South could still happen. Even under sad circumstances there would be great joy in seeing everyone again. And if Granny passes while Stan is out of town there's a whole other layer of adventure - road trip with all three girls and fights with the government travel office to get Stan where he needs to be.

The fact that we're in normal mode when there are things up in the air shows just how illusory "normal" is. There's always the chance of unexpected. We can never really know how to organize the days. I find great comfort in that illusion. And at the same time, I find promise in the possibility that things will not go the way I imagine.

Gifts

We have a lot of birthdays and an anniversary coming up in the next month so we're thinking a lot about gifts. One of those birthdays happens to be mine and I'm often the one organizing the gifts. Monkey sat before me one day quiet, with a wrinkled brow, and finally managed to say that she just didn't know how she would get me a present for my birthday. I explained to her that what I most want is time with her. I want to have fun together, play games, talk, and enjoy each other.

I'm pretty satisfied with my number of possessions and there are very few things I desire. (If anything, I need to purge.) There are lots of non-things I desire, though. I want to be known and accepted. I want to be worth noticing. I long for more time with people that I love. And for one day each year, I want the world to revolve around me (but I'm willing to share with other folks who share my birthday.) Rather than have folks spend their money on me, I'd much rather they spend their time. Then again, time is such a precious commodity, am I really willing to ask folks to part with that costly a gift?

This week I ended up with more Monkey & Peanut time than usual. I tried to think of that time in the same terms as the good gift of time that I desire. Their mom got sick so they missed their usual weeknight with her. They were frustrated, angry, disappointed, and threw their feelings in my direction. Their dad had a busy week with evenings out of the house. They were confused, worried and lonely. They vented at me. We had lots of time but because they were missing time with the most beloved people in their lives, we weren't able to find much joy together. We had time but not a whole lot of love.

We've got a big family weekend of togetherness coming up. I have grand visions of snuggling on the couch, playing boardgames, art projects, and lots of other ways to spend happy time together. I value time so highly that I often assume it alone can fix just about anything. I'm slowly coming to terms with the fact that this isn't true. Time without deep love feels like empty space.

I can ask people for their time. It's a measurable commodity that can be divided up and doled out, or not. I don't think I can ask people for their love though. Maybe I should just stick to flowers.