Some days, I feel like a kid whose parents have parted ways and made new homes, while the wee ones have to get used to a semi-regular back and forth, and adjust. Mancub spends a week with his Mom, then on Fridays after school, he goes to his Dad's for a week. The kid has two homes, sometimes takes the school bus and sometimes gets picked up; has rules for one place, then switcheroos on a dime so what was okay there is not okay here, and he's even got two sets of pets. Yes, cats. Why do you ask?
While it's the best arrangement to ensure equal time with both sides of his family, I empathize. Luckily, everyone lives in the same small town, but it's an arrangement that takes work on all fronts. How do parents who couldn't live together provide a seamless, similar environment for their child? They try, but it's impossible. One home has dad, a loving stepmom, and a little brother to contend with; the other is headed by an adoring single mom who works two jobs, attends college full time, and has a weekly assist from Grandma Moi. Fridays are my shuffle day too.
Twice a month I bounce back to my own apartment, 45 minutes away, when Mancub heads to his other home.
How bewildering it must be for children...I often think of his little brother, coming into the world and then trying to understand why his big bro disappears regularly. (He once joyfully called me by the nickname Mancub uses for me -- not Grandma -- because that's what he figured my name must be. What was a three year old supposed to think? It went over like a lead balloon. Snerk.) He's a precious kid and trust me when I say we worried as much about him during The Thing That Shook Us as we did about Mancub. Word is he's a little terror, exactly like his dad was, and I'll not be hypocritical and say the tales don't amuse the hell out of me.
In any case, we have to find the giggle in each day, because that is just What We Do. It's been a heartbreaking journey for our Mancub, and really, for everyone who loves him. I've often said the best thing my former son-in-law did was picking my daughter to be his first child's Mom and the boy they made together, followed closely by his choice for the next woman he made a family with. She is an excellent influence in my grandson's life and I'm eternally grateful for that, as is Kitten.
For years, it's all been a little deja vu. I see the similarities between him and his Dad, butting heads like the young, male deer with their fathers, and my own now-grown young buck, McSteamy, with the wasband. (he doesn't get a capital because I can be a Bitter Betty and I don't wanna.) Once, I came home from work to two hysterical girls, who had run to the neighbours after the menfolk got physical, and I threw them both out. The dudes. Not the cute little girls. I am not a monster. The wasband never forgave me, but the image of Belle throwing a Coke on their heads after someone's noggin went through a wall was, and is, 100% Worth It. Lordty help me, it's a miracle they all turned into highly functioning members of society.
I'd like to think I can take some of the credit for that, and the young man the baby-boy no-more is growing into, despite my own flaws. Selfless is not the angle here -- I have benefited from the sacrifices more than anyone. The mileage my glued-to-the-driver's seat butt has seen, however, is astronomical. We've made it work because stability for him is paramount and I have the ability to spend two weeks a month with them. I treasure that time. As I said, we're lucky. Now he's transitioned into the teen years, and he's been expressing how very much he wants to live with Mom full time, and only go to his Dad's when he wants to spend time with them. It's normal teenage stuff, but dreaded, and the anticipation of old wounds sprouting up in fear or resentment is stressful. We keep encouraging him to make the best of the time he has with all his family. We remind him that in a few short years, he'll be able to make that decision for himself, and why we feel it's important to maintain those steady connections. There aren't enough words to express how much he doesn't want to hurt anyone's feelings. That child was born with a heart and soul a mile wide and empathy to spare. It's also very important to us that he doesn't make any decisions he'll regret later. Isn't that the ultimate puzzle everyone who loves a child has faced?
Co-parenting is a challenge under the best circumstances and I whole-heartedly encourage every parent blessed with a child to put their own crap on mute to do what's best for the wee one. If only I could go back and do it all better for my own kids, but none of us has that luxury. We can only do the best we can at any given time. Looking back, I'd sweat a lot of useless stuff less if that was an option. Trust me, time with them is finite. As they say, the days are long, but the years are short.
Which is what this post was supposed to be, but ramble on...
This past week was extra long. Kitten has a girl's getaway next weekend and they juggled schedules a bit. This morning, I dropped him off at school after enjoying extra weekend days with him, but won't see them again until the following weekend. I haz the blues. But then, when I came home tonight, propped in front of my door...a package did doth appear!
Another prize, another contest win. I cackled. Bring me ALL.THE.BOOKS!! Note to anyone entering contests, read your emails carefully. I didn't even know I'd won and had to backtrack. It's a good problem to have.
P.S. Nope, not doing a title. Good night, Muffins. xox