It is Tuesday. On Sunday my husband leaves for another business trip--this time for two weeks. When he told me he would have to make another trip out of town I had to hold back angry tears. I told him to keep me posted on the dates and details so I could, not only physically prepare the house and the girls, but mentally prepare myself.
This whole thing reinforces the fact that being a parent is hard. No one ever said it was an easy gig, and I don't think anyone ever will. What makes it even harder is the constant hovering potential of falling into the feeling of being alone in it. In reality, one could argue that we are all alone--that we are born alone and die alone, but there is something different about the loneliness that comes with parenthood. You would think that once you have a child that you are never alone and maybe that is true in some ways, when you face the neverending task of raising and protecting another human it can force you into a mental space where no one else can fit.
Then you find you are alone even when you're really not.
I work full time and have the chance to see and interact with other people outside of my children on a daily basis, which helps keeps me from falling into that space. Even though I work at a middle school and am constantly surrounded by children and people it is hard to not go home on days when I know my husband is away on a business trip and not find myself in that space. And it makes sense that I might go there, after all, I alone will pick up my children, cook them dinner, and get them to bed while he is not there to help. In the morning, I alone will get them dressed and take them to their daycare before I go to work. While he is gone this will be the role I fill while trying to hold onto the me that exists separate from my children.
And I will spend the entire two weeks just waiting for him to come back.
I will wait like I always do.
I will wait for him to come back and drag me out of the space.
I will wait for him to remind me that I am not alone after all.
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