220 : It Still Stings

So we had all made it through the first holiday post divorce.  I had struggled a little (see post # 217) but had still survived.  The reports from my Ex were that my kids had a great time with his family.  Upon their return, though, it became quite obvious that I wasn't the only one adjusting to this new family structure.  I had naively expected the boys to miss me terribly.  It only seemed fair, right?  I spent 98% of the time with them.  Surely they could see that at their young ages and would feel a closer bond with me?  Well, that's not exactly how it worked unfortunately.  They returned from their weekend and seemed quite attached to their father.  They both were excited to see me, but they did not want their dad to leave.  They even seemed to prefer him upon arrival back at home, which really stung me.  I was slightly irritated by how easily they had been won over by their dad, even though I knew it was wrong.  He was, afterall, their dad.  And I wanted them to have a relationship with him.  They deserved that.  It's just that he didn't deserve them or so I felt.  So even though I knew what was best for my kids, if I'm being honest here (which I can be- it's my blog) it was really hard to see them so attached to their dad.  My Ex left and the boys and I slowly adjusted to being back together.  That night, things seemed to go back to normal.  My oldest climbed into bed with me during the night.  The next day he seemed extra needy - crying especially hard when I left for work.  I hated that moment.  I reminded myself that even if I were still happily married, the long holiday weekends often made the following Monday mornings more difficult.  That night I got home from work and the boys seemed genuinely happy to see me.  We played for a while and then got pjs on.  We settled into the couch for a show.  And then it was time for bed.  My youngest went without a fight.  My oldest, however, was more challenging.  He threw the tantrum of all tantrums and was crying as loud as his little body would allow.  I want daddy.  I want daddy.   He repeated the phrase again and again, choking on his sobs while I tried my best to hold back mine.  When he finally calmed down, he began to ask me about the upcoming week.  We were going to go visit my family in Michigan.  Would daddy be there?  Why wouldn't daddy be there?  Daddy would probably be with Robin.  Where did I even begin trying to explain.  He was only three and yet he had summarized it better than I could myself.  I was reminded that even though I was finally getting comfortable with this life transition, my children had a long, LONG way to go.  It was like a wound that was slowly healing and then was suddenly ripped open again.  There would be many more nights like this.  Many more questions.  And countless more times when I just sat silently biting my tongue not saying all the things that deep down I wanted to scream out loud about their dad.  I didn't know how I would explain it all, how I could answer why this had all happened because much of it I still didn't understand myself.  All I knew was that I didn't have to have all the answers tonight.  My 3 year old had his immediate questions answered and was finally off to sleep.  It was time to call it a night.