I am crying as I write this. Which means, basically, that post-partum hormones still surge through my body even over a year after the fact, and threaten to undo me at every turn. Also, that I am a sap.
I am a sap, and I am undone.
Soon, I will climb into a car and drive away from my children. This is a mixed thing: I so crave the break, the time to myself, but I ache at the very thought of being without my babies. My girl, I know, will be fine, and I will be fine without her, because we have done this before, and because she so loves her time with her daddy and the promise of a gift from somewhere far away. My boy, on the other hand, I don’t know. We’ve never been apart for more than twenty-four hours, and the one night that we did spend apart was painful for us both. I know that he is going to cry and reach for me as he sees me leave. I know that I am going to cry – more than I am crying right this minute – as I watch him watch me go.
As I drive away I will think about how much I will miss him – and her – and I will cry and wring my hands, but I will also think about how much I will enjoy the time away and I will thrill, a little, with excitement. And somewhere in the space between anxiety and anticipation, I hope, I will find peace.
Otherwise, this weekend is going to require a lot of liquor.