every weekend, the kids are away.
i'm susceptible to swigs of panic about them. their dad is wonderful with them but not always, and assuredly, not me.
he is working on it but the work that I have to do is tremendous (and all i can do anything about) and involves a lot of faith. and, as you may know if you have ever read my tiny little black letterwords before, faith is something i just don't have a grip on.
the kids need their dad.
anyhow. while the kids are away, i have learned, it is important to have things 'to do'. I made the mistake of thinking i'd luxuriate in myself and drink wine and have lots of cheese over valentine weekend and it nearly drove me right off the highway into the shrubbery. and honestly, i couldn't give less of a shit about that particular holiday. with me, J never went in for sentimentality, so there weren't any big ritualized holidays... my first mother's day i was nearly hysterical until he stopped 100 feet from my parents house and bought me some flowers. seriously, intimately hysterical. and? all better with the introduction of flowers. like magic.
again. shrubbery. it was just the nothingtodo-ness of it, the space to fill, the mind to listen in on...
and so, with the kids being away, i oscillate between a wide open joy at the freedom to choose, to pee in solitude, to dance, to have wine, to eat late and watch crap tv... and feeling sort of scared to have too long at home without distraction. my monkey mind is a hellacious bitch, and i don't want to be alone with her once it gets dark.
and there is still fear. all the unknowns of what will go on in this next year, the financial worry, the changes in myself that will render me 'changed'.. the fear rides hand in hand with that bike-down-the hill-with-no-hands, dance-in-the-kitchen sensation and it can be nauseating to flit between them.