The kids are in bed, and Matt has now been gone for seven days.
Here’s how I pictured our last day at home without him:
We would decorate for his birthday, which is tomorrow. I would hang a birthday sign and balloons while Everett created some artwork for a present. We would all go together to pick out some birthday flowers for dad. We would have a quiet afternoon at home together. I would clean the house, so Matt could return to a lovely home while the kids harmoniously played together.
My struggles as a mom usually always happen when I have expectations. I am learning to let go of expectations.
What our afternoon looked like instead:
Upon coming home from grandma and grandpa’s house, Everett had an epic meltdown from the car to the house that was witnessed by three neighbors. They each stopped to try to help, and then didn’t really know what to do, so they moved on while I kind of dragged him inside carrying Cambria with my other arm. Both kids were overtired, so they spent a couple of hours whining and crawling/ hanging all over me while I tried to maintain my sanity in the midst of a messy house that I couldn’t get to. As the afternoon was feeling like a failure, I decided we were going to make things happen. I packed them into the car to pick up burritos for dinner and we did manage to get flowers on the way. Everett picked out his own yellow flower for daddy and a balloon. After dinner, I bribed him with a marshmallow to color a picture. We ended the day with tickle tackle and a dance decorating party, and the day was saved. And then they quietly read books together on his bed.
My life lesson for the day: there’s not much in life that can’t be fixed with a dance party.
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