Aaron's away again on his sixth trip in 8 months, and I'm more than a little stressed and tired.
I don't sleep well when he's gone. I have to face my nighttime anxiety; my being overwhelmed being the sole caretaker of children; of being the only body receiving their never-ending touches; the only hands making dinner and sign papers; the only driver to take them to tennis lessons and back and forth to school; the only voice that reassures or disciplines.
If you remember, I couldn't even take care of my Love Avocado. So obviously it's even more draining to take care of three little humans. There's so much more on the line.
Sometimes when he's gone, I nail it. Usually at the front end of his trip of course. I remember that love is about choice, choosing to empty myself and pour it into them.
When 2:30 pm rolls around I feel a small bit of dread in the pit of my stomach. The witching hour (which is really 5 hours) has begun. On those good days, I'll smile even if I'm exhausted; I'll hug them even though I'd really like a hug; I'll listen even though I'd love to sit down with a friend myself. I'll cook dinner even though I DON'T WANNA.
This is progress for someone like me who struggles with Love Avocados.
Of course some of the time I lose it. I get nit picky, impatient and demanding. Dropping that almond on the floor and not picking it up is a breach of all that is good and right. Asking two questions in a row is a boulder I can't carry. And you giving the slightest indication you might not love what I cooked for dinner warrants the shooting-daggers Look From Mom.
The last 8 months I learned from experience what I'd already learned from reflection and counseling: Saying "I'm sorry, please forgive me" really are magical words. It show that I care and restores our relationship. It shows it was me, and not their lack of lovability, that's the problem. It establishes the standard of love they deserve, even if I failed at it. So I say I'm sorry. A lot. And try to do better.
I've learned that it's good to feel sorry and to say I'm sorry; and it's also good not to carry that guilt with me. Because I'm loved as well, and worthy of their love and their forgiveness.
And right now, sitting in this cushy chair in a coffeehouse with my Hot Buttered Scotch, I'm feeling grateful. Isn't it true that it's when people are gone we realize how much we love them, and when we're having a hard time our heart sometimes opens more to love those around us? It's a mystery to me, since these "sometimes" come and go.
It's easy to feel grateful, pensive and serene sitting in this coffeeshop, all alone. Maybe today will be a "sometimes" and this afternoon I'll have a patient smile for my children that lasts right up to snuggling at bedtime. If not, I'm grateful that forgiveness is just as much a part of loving and being loved as getting it right the first time.