It started in the "10 items or less" check out-line at Walmart (I had way more than 10 items, but who’s counting?). The family in front of us was buying a fish for their son. Damn.
She’s on to me. She hears me sniffling.
"Mom, are you OK?"
"Mommy’s not crying, sweetie, it’s her allergies."
So why were we at Walmart at 9 p.m. on a Wednesday? Because around 8:30 p.m. it dawned on me that she needed Valentine’s Day cards, candy and other miscellaneous items TONIGHT in order to be packed with four day’s worth of clothing. And all of this had to be ready to go by the morning.
The ex (we’ll call him Romeo, I love the irony) is finally following a judge ordered visitation schedule and she’ll be with him for the next four days. I know this is "his" time and I’ve been bitching about him refusing to follow the schedule (BTW: special thank you to those who have been putting up with me!).
But now that it’s really happening, the thought of her being away for four days is making my stomach queasy, my eyes water and my heart ache.
The packing will soon become a bi-weekly ritual that I’ll eventually master. By St. Patrick’s Day, I’ll have a color-coded system, a dedicated suitcase and a spreadsheet documenting the process in order to improve the ritual for the next time.
So for the next four days, she belongs to "him" and it stings.
At least I’ll have her big sister with me. But let’s be honest, she won’t even let me hug her. She hasn’t let me hug her since she was… Well, since never. Fat chance she’ll want to cuddle up on the couch with me under the pink Snuggie to watch TV.
Screw it, I’m asking!
She said no. :/
Tomorrow is big sister’s birthday. There’s no way in hell I’m NOT getting a hug out of this. She can’t deny me a hug on her birthday.