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Archive for July, 2010

breather

I took a whole two hours off this afternoon to come home, sit, and do Nothing. Later this evening I will have to do Something to keep the writing thing going but for a few blessed hours, sandwiched in the middle of an incredibly busy week, I am going to do Nothing.

Of course in Maeveish, Nothing is defined as “read a book, sew an apron, run and lift weights” before I tackle the writing thing, and I guess I should manage to send that email to the Ex tonight.

I’d love to write something significant and meaningful about my life right now, or about anything really, but I don’t have it in me. I am spent. I even managed to literally work myself sick, though I’m over the hump now.

I have been having a great time, though. PP-missing aside, everything is wonderful, and I am completely exhausted, and I can’t wait to scoop up my bunny-bit in a giant squidgy hug. Next Friday.

Speaking of which, we have actual baby bunnies in the backyard. Wild ones. I figure they come through from the cemetery. Is that not beyond cool? Cute little hand-sized bundles of brown fluff munching on greenery under the shrubs.

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Gearing Up

PP will be gone starting Friday for two weeks, and I miss her already.

I know it’s senseless. I should pack in as much enjoyment as I can while she’s here, and miss her after she’s gone, instead of suffering in advance. But I hate it more than I can say when she’s not here, and this will be the first two-week separation. I’ve so loved having her these two weeks, with our vacation and settling into the new house and all the fun things we’ve done together, and watching her run around the street in a pack of girls the same age.

My main plan, while she’s gone, is to work myself sick. Except not actually get sick. But pack on the overtime, because there’s work to go around for sure, and then I won’t be home to notice that PP’s not here. Plus I’ll be able to take off more time later, when she is. It’s perfect!

I’ve heard from so many places so often that the stage of missing your children when they’re not home post-divorce is a temporary thing, that parents adapt and eventually come to appreciate having the time to themselves to do non-parent things. There are times like that during the fall and winter, when it’s a 5/2 schedule, though even then I try not to be home with all the silent toys and the non-mess too much, but in the summer when it’s 50/50 I can only cope by distracting myself as thoroughly as possible, making myself even more exhausted in the pursuit of not being alone at home than I am when she’s here and I’m doing the single mother gig.

I’m a sap. I’ll completely fall apart if she ever goes to a sleep-away camp, I know it, and don’t even talk to me about college! My sweet, affectionate, slightly bossy, not-quite-at-the-age-of-reason, friendly, overly precise and literal, kissable girl with the anime eyes. Last week I was tucking her into bed and snuggling up a bit, and kissed her on the cheek, and she gave me a big hug and said, “Mummy, that is my favourite part of being your child, when you kiss me. I love spending time with you.”

I guess, for her too, she never gets to the stage of taking us for granted. Her time with her parents is special.

It snuck up on me again in the form of prickliness. Other people’s problems have been pissing me off. I’ve felt myself growing bossy and judgmental and intolerant since Sunday–the halfway mark–because goddammit, I don’t have the time or energy for helping other people when I need to save my energy and sanity for missing PP for two weeks! Who has the nerve to have problems themselves when my daughter’s going away for two weeks?

Yes, it is slightly absurd, or more than slightly, but there you have it. The good news is that now that the prickliness has collapsed and I’m just suffering in advance, I’ll be much more pleasant to be around. Or at least more charitable.

By this you can suppose that our vacation days have been wonderful. Picnics and parties and farm visits and theme parks and roller coasters and waterfalls and wading pools and neighbour girls the same age who have swimming pools in which she swims and swallows a mouthful of water and then pukes on the neighbour’s wooden deck. Yet still manages to enjoy the swimming. And three, count ’em, THREE other little girls her age on a street with eight houses on it, all of whom seem friendly and fun and like PP. So they run around the street in a gang, making ‘soup’ from the inedible berries on the median and comparing toys. It’s been wonderful. I wish it could go on indefinitely. Why does it need to end?

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the move is done

The boxes are unpacked, the blinds are hung, the rooms are painted, the pictures are on the walls, the toys are in baskets, the grass needs cutting, I figured out when to put the garbage out, the eliptical machine is back together though I clearly need to tighten several bolts as it is making new an interesting noises, and in short everything is done enough that we can now just live here. Just in time for having people over on Saturday.

The Trader was awesome–helped out a bunch with almost everything for most of a week. Whereas my Dad flaked out at the last minute.

PP and I had three days off together this week; I’ll be going in to work tomorrow and Friday. When my parents are supposed to come. Still not convinced they will. We shall see. We’ll have three days off together next week too. No idea just yet when I’ll have time to do more than blurb like this, but it’s good. So far it’s very good.

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