On Sunday afternoon, we went to go see my stepson’s hockey game. We had been away for most of the week, and the kids were with their Mom.
[We have a week-on-week off access schedule and transition on Mondays after school]
Almost five years into our blended family situation, the original awkwardness of waiting in the lobby after the hockey game has subsided… well most days anyways. For the most part, everyone is cordial and makes small talk, with a very welcomed distraction of our two years old daughter, Reese.
Her wit and spunk lighten the mood…
Her sobs and cries when we have to leave her brothers and sister on the other hand, are more heart-wrenching that I will ever be able to describe.
You see, Reese struggles on our “week off”.
Everyday after daycare, or “little school” as we call it, she asks for her brother. When I tell her he’s not with us this week, she cries.
When she walks into the house at the end of the day, she screams “Guys, I’m home!” … only for me to tell her, again, that they are at their Moms.
As I have written in a previous post, at night she goes into their bedrooms calling their name. Wondering where they are.
At night before she falls asleep, she says their names over and over.
I wrote about this a few months back, and truthfully, I thought it would get better by now. But I think it’s getting worse.
The worst part for me is that I cannot solve this probem for her. I feel like when kids are young, parents are here to solve their problems, or at least show them how to solve them themselves.
This however, is unsolvable. This is how it is. And she doesn’t understand.
Every time we leave the hockey arena on our “week-off” she cannot figure out why they all get to go together, and she has to come home alone.
And well, these emotions are expressed in the way of a textbook toddler tantrum, smack dab in the middle of the arena, for all the other "hockey moms" to see. She inconsolable, and definitely cannot be reasoned with.
On Sunday, after she sobbed and cried and screamed on the way home, thankfully she fell asleep. When we put her down for her nap, I came into the kitchen and broke down myself.
“I’m sick of this” I said to my husband. “Our poor girl’s heart breaks every week, and there is nothing we can do it make it better”…
He hugged me, and held me… knowing that with the exception of “she will understand when she gets older”, there really wasn’t anything he could say.
And it's true. With the exception of extra hugs, kisses and cuddles, there isn't really anything we can do.
This is her world. Even though her parents aren’t divorced, a huge part of her life is "week-on-week-off" as well.