Tornadoes and I are now a mere two weeks away from a three week separation - our first major separation ever. I suppose it's only fair that they see their dad, so I have maturely agreed to allow them to fly far away from me for a prolonged visit.
I've avoided bringing this up here, mostly because the thought of it makes me nauseous. Also because some childish part of me wants to believe that if I don't think about it, it won't be true. But it is, and it's coming, so there's that.
Last Monday at bedtime, Second Grader informed that she was feeling a little anxious about the whole thing herself. Her main concern was the abstract idea of three weeks' time. "How long is that, really?" she asked. Not knowing how else to answer, I informed her that she would be getting off the plane exactly three weeks from that bedtime to begin her visit. "So from tonight until you leave is exactly how long you will be away."
That cleared it all up. Suffice it to say, the week has been riddled with intermediate markers of the passage of time. And we still have two weeks to go.
Now that I've brought it up, expect that I'll probably bring it up again. I'll try not to vomit on you. No promises, though.
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2 comments:
That is a tough pill to swallow. Best of luck, and make the most of your adult only time, and do some things you've been meaning to do, but couldn't because of parenthood.
You know... like take a nap.
Yeah, like taking free concert tickets for bands that some people would kill to see ;)
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