Whoever came up with the words "amicable divorce" was full of shit. Sorry Santana, I see your sweet face over there smiling at me. Divorce sucks. And having my children away from me for half of their lives sucks. And sharing for holidays, and missing birthday parties, and dividing up field trip money and health care costs and dental insurance and college savings, and synchronizing calendars between two households. It all frickin sucks. But the thing that hurts the worst: missing out on firsts. Tomorrow night (since this isn't "my year" to have her for her birthday... sobbbbb) is Santana's first sleepover.
I will miss the giggle-fits. The story time. The late night movie and the homemade snacks. I won't be the hero with hot cocoa in the morning, I won't be the one etched in her memory for this monumental girlhood right of passage, I won't even be there to put my arms around her and tell her about the day she was born. I will miss the misty eyes in the morning, the crabby waffle breakfast, the recounting of every giggle from the night before.
No one prepares you for this side of the coin. And while we can't go back, nor would we ever, I sure wish I knew a way to piece the fibers of my heart back together and smile just knowing that she is happy. I mean, just look at her.
xo,
k.
I will miss the giggle-fits. The story time. The late night movie and the homemade snacks. I won't be the hero with hot cocoa in the morning, I won't be the one etched in her memory for this monumental girlhood right of passage, I won't even be there to put my arms around her and tell her about the day she was born. I will miss the misty eyes in the morning, the crabby waffle breakfast, the recounting of every giggle from the night before.
No one prepares you for this side of the coin. And while we can't go back, nor would we ever, I sure wish I knew a way to piece the fibers of my heart back together and smile just knowing that she is happy. I mean, just look at her.
xo,
k.
