Dear boys,
As I sit in the floor of my bedroom packing your
suitcases for a trip I’ve been on before, but will never go on again, I am
excited for you and for me.
Don’t get me wrong.
I’m nervous and scared.
I’m worried you will miss me too much because you
have expressed this multiple times over the past week.
I’m worried that your dad, although he is a very
good dad, might not keep that extra mommy eye on you, and something will happen,
and I will have to destroy his world.
I’m worried that we’ve never been apart for more
than 4 days and 7 will be far too long.
But like I said, I’m excited.
Remembering who I am over the past two years has
been an adventure and a quest.
I’ve gotten many glimpses of the girl I used to be,
and the woman I hoped to become.
I wish I could have been that in the context of the
relationship that created the two of you, but it just wasn’t meant to be.
Still, it’s so incredibly important for you to know
that I love my life now.
I get excited by it every single day.
But I remember waking up every day for over a
year thinking, “Is this it? Can I do
this forever?” And the answer was
no. I needed more. In a way, I needed it all. And I’ve never been happier than I am at this
moment.
Still, let me be clear: Where I am now doesn’t take anything
away from the life I had with or before you.
Your dad and I had a wonderful life for many years. It was because of that life that the two of
you exist. And neither of us would have
ever committed to anything less. I
firmly believe the two of us were put on this planet to find each other and
make you.
But I also believe I’m a better mom now. A better friend. A better helper. A better lover. A better caretaker. A better daughter. I’m just…better.
Sometimes being a wife and a mother is
suffocating. I understand for some it’s
not overwhelming. But I think as parents
we can all agree it’s a bit much at times.
I remember when your dad and I had to designate date nights and make a
pact not to talk about the two of you. But
no matter how hard we tried, we always ended up in a parenting discussion or
discussing what you did that day. And that’s
no way to sustain a marriage. It’s no
way to grow a relationship. When ALL you
have in common is the two souls you love more than anything on the planet, it
seems like it should be enough. But for me, it wasn’t. I needed more. I wanted more. I couldn’t live without more. Some may call it
selfish. And that’s fine. We are all free to judge. We all make offhanded comments and say things
we shouldn’t from time to time, but none of us really know what goes on within
the walls of a home and a family that isn’t ours.
I love your being your mom. I wouldn’t change a thing that led to your
existence. Even the god-awful heartbreak
and drama and truly nightmarish events we had to endure during the divorce all
led to where we are now. And I think we
are the perfect family of three. We have
our good days, and we have those when we all want to run away. We have days like today where I’m ecstatic
that you’re leaving tomorrow, and I have a whole week to go travel with someone
and be carefree, and I have no plans, and I don’t have to worry about camps and
snacks, and homework, and bath time, and bedtime, and which night you go to your
dad’s house so I have to have the appropriate laundry done, and there is no
possible way I will step on a Lego for days and days. But then, there’s the minutes I realize you
will be a thousand miles away and out of my control and I know how many times a
day you will need milk or juice or a snack or a hug or when you have had too
much of each other and I need to sit between you and tell a stupid story so you
will forget why you are mad and we can go back to our ridiculously fun
existence.
So basically what I’m saying is: Even though you
have gotten on my last nerve 10 times today, and I’m ready for a break, that
one, shaky, exhausted nerve is precisely what keeps me going. There have been some truly not
fun times over the last few years, and no matter how terrified and
overwhelmed and doubtful I have been, I knew I had to step up because of
you. In a way, you are the bit of
strength I always lacked. You are the weakness
I never divulged. And you are the pieces
of me that showed everyone else just how vulnerable I could be.
So thank you for scaring the shit out of me every day. Thanks for proving that I do care what other people think. Thanks for showing me that I could love so
fiercely. And that even an extremely
selfish only-child could change her world view and be willing to die at any
given moment if it meant one more second of happiness or safety for the two of
you.
You give my life meaning by showing me my life should
mean something. I hope the two of you
live as ferociously as your mother. And never ever settle.
Have fun in New York, babies.
Because you are truly the only things I love more
than cake.