There are three different groups who read this blog: The group of people who know me and my whole back story; the group from Country Boy’s side who sort of know me and probably know bits and pieces of my back story; and the people who only know me by this blog and think I am some crazy woman for falling for a dude with mules and thinking I could live on a farm (Frankly, you might know me best…).
I have been fairly vague on here about how I came to be a single City Girl with two little City Girls rather purposefully. The little City Girls don’t know – and because they sometimes read this blog to see what goofy things their Mom is telling all of you, I don’t want them to read the fully details regarding – what happened way back when. What I will say is this: I am a firm believer that marriage is a forever committment, the girls were tiny toddlers/babies when our lives changed course from what we had expected, and I thank God for the family and friends who helped me stay strong as a woman and a Mom. They kept us afloat and got my heart healed enough to be ready for love when that Country Boy came along.
I try to be a fairly optimistic person, so I have looked for the silver linings since the early days of our new life path. For example, until I married the Country Boy last year, I had free reign over the TV remote and could watch shows like Dance Moms and Glee without being judged. I didn’t have to share my popcorn with anyone or have someone look askance at me dipping said popcorn into my Coke before eating. I could eat all of the leftover Easter/Halloween/Valentine’s Day candy that the girls forgot about. Plus, I knew I was it/the figurative buck stopped at me – laundry, groceries, bills, cleaning, fixing, whatever. My motto became, “If not me, who? If not now, when?”
Of course, once I met that Country Boy, life changed course again and became this blissful path we’re now on. Granted, it is a little stinkier, but I figure that Mule/Dog poo is just the fertilizer of a beautiful life (I told you I try to be an optimist).
Still, there are times when the reality of the past is right in front of me, and this is it. My City Girls, my two cuties who can make me laugh and pull my hair out – usually within minutes – are gone for the next week. This extended absence will happen three times over the next 11 weeks, in addition to the normal times they are gone.
I joke with my friends that I am the best Mom in the world these weeks because I never lose my temper, get exasperated at their antics, or do any of the other things that we parents sometimes do to our kids that we then feel guilty about and add a few more dollars to the “future counseling” fund we know we’ll need to have for them. Instead, I stare at their pictures, look fondly into their vacated, messy room, cherish the little doodads and presents they made for me over the years and long to hear their voices.
I should say that I have gotten much better at looking at these times as being valuable days to do the things I enjoy doing but rarely can because of schedules. I plan dinners out with good friends, I go on long bike rides, or plan day trips and weekend getaways with the Country Boy. I try to use these times when the girls are gone to work lots of hours and then recharge in the evenings.
Still, there is an ache there. A house that is too quiet. A morning routine that is too routine.
As long as they are snuggled on the sofa next to me when they’re talking.