It’s Sunday afternoon, a lovely fall day. I just spent the morning walking four miles or so with my friend L. then swimming and whirlpool with my friend K. I must say I’m feeling very relaxed. The chocolate Moosetracks ice cream doesn’t hurt either. I’m feeling very pensive also. Two weeks from yesterday is the Big Day! Kealoha and I are getting hitched! It’s so close now. I’m actually really excited. I’ve let go of the whole “I need to lose twenty pounds thing”. I’m pretty much the same weight I’ve been for two years now. Nothing has changed. I’m just two years older, but thanks to all the working out, I’m a little firmer. I’ve got to be good with that.
I’m all moody and pensive about other things. Like writing. Lots of people in my writing groups are selling loads of books and getting awards and getting publishing contracts, and I’m sort of just sitting on the sidelines saying “Here I am! Don’t forget about me! I’m right here!” It’s that general angst thing on struggling to get my stuff out there and feeling like no one really cares. Bah.
This week my ex’s wife sent me pictures from their vacation. Great pictures of the kiddos. I’m tempted to put the pictures on our wall because they’re terrific shots of the kids. One is of Simone in her swimsuit playing in the water. The other is of Louis sitting on a rock looking right at the camera. I can’t put them on my wall though. As beautiful as the kids look, the pictures make me sad.
I don’t recognize the suit Simone is wearing and I don’t know where they’re at in the pictures. The hardest thing with my kids is half of their lives is a mystery to me. I have pictures now of their summer vacation, but it’s not my vacation. It’s not our family…it’s their family with their dad. As much as I like having some personal time to myself, at the same time, I still mourn that I don’t get to be with the kids all the time. When they’re at their dad’s for five days, they come to me sometimes with new haircuts or looking slightly taller and I can’t help but cry that I don’t get to share every moment of their childhood with them.
Part of me wishes I could have a second chance. Not with their dad, but just being their mom. I wish I’d asked for full custody. Wish I’d fought for it. I wish I could have a baby again and do everything right this time. But you can’t go back in time. You don’t get do- overs.
So. The wedding is coming and Kealoha is going to be a great stepdad. He already is; it’s just not official. And I can be grateful that when I am lucky enough to have my kids with me, I am there with them emotionally and physically 100% (which wasn’t true in the past). I may not have done everything right in the past, and I’ll probably still screw up with them in the future, but I’m really trying to be the best mom and strong role model for them that I can.
I can’t have the memories of them at the beach, but I can have my own…like taking them to Chicago with Kealoha and Louis eating an entire pizza and walking the streets with them and taking Simone to the American Girl store. And then there’s all the things we’re going to do with them, all the dinners and Halloween and new plans for Chicago.
I guess I can’t have every beautiful moment framed on our wall…but who can, really?
Ugh. I’m totally crying. I have the whole “I swallowed a plum and it’s lodged in my throat feeling”. I blame the wedding. I’m so emotional I start crying when I see two squirrels chasing each other or what’s worse, when I heard George Michael singing “Careless Whisper” on the radio. It’s ridiculous. I need to watch an action film or something. Or maybe some pro wrestling. Pro wrestling would be good, followed by, I don’t know, football or something. Sheesh.
I leave you with this. If you’re as emo as me right now, grab some Kleenex. For the overly dramatic, ridiculous tears.