It Gets Me Every Time

My kids just left for their dad's house for a summer visit of 10 days.  Packing my kids up and sending them out the door for over a week gets me every single time.  Puts me in a funk.  Makes me angry.  Makes me sad.  Gives me time to think.  Gives me time to organize.  Right after they left, I began putting away the loads of school junk they had unloaded from their desks.  I read my 10-year-old's school writing folder. 

Valentine's Day Letter To Dad "These three hearts are for you, Dad.  One for always helping me with my homework.  One for always driving me to practice and cheering for me at my games.  One for always taking good care of me."

WHAT?????  Dad isn't here to help you with homework.  Dad makes it to zero practices and maybe one out of every four games, and even then he comes late and leaves early.  Dad takes care of you?  Dad went to jail for 30 days rather than pay child support.  Dad hasn't worked in 7 years.  Dad doesn't do anyting.  MOM does it.  Big, deep breath.  Don't get angry.  This is not a reflection on me.  This is just what he wishes were true.  Maybe his friend next to him was writing his Valentine Day's letter to his dad. After I think about it a moment I realize it is not something to be angry about, it is actually very sad.  I closed the journal and will pretend I never read it.

I will not console myself in a pint of Haagen Daz.  I will take this out on the pavement with an evening run.  I enjoy evening runs, but it is rare that I can do one because I am at baseball games/practices from 5:30 to 8:00 Monday through Thursday and some Fridays too, then we had homework, and baths, and feeding to deal with.  I go because I love it, because I can't imagine missing it, the joy, the pride, sometimes the disappointment, the thrill of wining, the looks on their faces when they touch home base.  I know that I am their home base.  I don't do it for the recognition.  I do it all because I love them.