I turned to this blog tonight as I struggle with a concept we learned on the playground when we were toddlers – sharing.
The past couple weeks I have had the opportunity to have some extra time with my children, especially my son, as I was able to have him two weekends in a row. But it wasn’t only the extra time to play with them, but also the lack of distractions.
The divorce was final last month, which seemed to almost erase overnight the year-long angst and animosity. Also during this time, work projects were a little lighter, so I actually was able to get home either on time or earlier for a refreshing change. Taking those small diversions away seemed to just open up this world of enjoyment with my children.
Even with icy cold temperatures and wind today in Logan, I bundled up Dax, replaced my heels with tennis shoes and hit the sidewalk running. It was amazing hearing the excitement in his voice as we ran played, “look mom it’s your rocket…let’ drive the boat…come on mom you can fit, just duck down…can you push me higher!” For almost two-hours and to the point my fingers were numb from the cold, we played together.
I was pushing him on the tire swing and then “accidently” standing in its path so it would send me hurtling forward, resulting in an intense belly-laugh from my sweet son. That sound was the very reason this park was built – so that sweet melody would be carried on by other children in memory of a little boy whose short life was full of laughter.
So tonight when Dax’s dad asked if he could see him – he had been missing him – I knew I needed to take him. Dax put his arm around his dad and was excited to see him; he asked him if he could go to his house. His dad responded it is up to his mom. I did not want to let him go, even after having such an amazing day with him. My girls were already gone and I was looking forward to holding him and watching him fall asleep. I did not want to share him tonight.
I knew I was being selfish as I tried to come up with an excuse why he needed to stay with me; after all it was my time. The more I tried, the more I knew I had to let him go. Even my sister noticed the defeated look on my face as I came home without my children.
I have always been one who played nice in the sandbox – I just never imagine that one day I would be in reference to my children. So for those of you who have your children always; may you never tire of the sounds of their laughter. And for those, who like me, have to face the many consequences of our choice to divorce; may you cherish every moment you have, and may your heart be comforted when you have to share.