When the kids were infants, for various reasons I won’t go into, we didn’t have babysitters. By that, I mean, we didn’t get strangers or teens who do that on a regular basis. This left us with few choices, as my folks had already moved to Florida and Lin’s folks had their hands full with watching several other grandchildren on a regular basis and were getting up there in age, so we didn’t want to impose on them that much. So when they were a bit older, we did have them stay at Linda’s sister’s house occasionally.
Bottom line, we very rarely were ever separated from them, even to that extent. And of course I’ve already detailed the time they went for a stroll and freaked us out in ’02. But in 2005, for the first time in over a decade, we were going to go away, just the two of us — to Italy for ten days. Theresa was now 11 and Matthew was 8, so we formulated a plan where my folks would fly up, visit, then take the kids back to Florida in our van, then after the trip, we’d fly down, collect them and drive back home. (I may be misremembering the back leg of that journey but never mind.)
I guess, in the end, I didn’t really grasp what was about to happen. The folks and the kids hopped in the van, ready to go. Matthew, for some reason, was wearing a baseball cap that made him look even younger than he was, something out of Norman Rockwell painting. Theresa and Matt were strapped in and as the sliding door started to close, Matthew said goodbye, but his voice caught in the middle of it.
Well.
Here’s the thing. This was the first time they’d be separated from us for more than an overnight. We didn’t know if they were going to break down or be upset, etc. so we were determined to hold it together for their sake, but his voice catching at the last second– I’m just glad they were pulling away at that moment.
Now, the following is an example of the two of us reacting in our own, specific ways.
As soon as they pulled away down the driveway, I was a stupid mess. Damn near inconsolable. Miserable the entire day. I just wasn’t used to them being gone, I was worried that they were miserable, worried about the drive down there, safety, accidents, you name it. But then, that night, when they called from the hotel they were staying at, past the halfway mark, the kids were fine and happy, trip was smooth and everyone was happy. And thus, I was content. Knowing they were safe and sound, I was totally good leaving the country and leaving them with the folks. I’d miss them but as long as they were ok, I could have been gone for a year, absolutely content at least knowing they were okay. I got it all out of my system.
But Linda… that first day they left, she was fine and mostly comforting her idiot husband. A few days later, we went to Italy, had a great time, barring a few early mishaps (a future blog). Thing IS…. while I got over the hump of worry on day one, with each successive day, she was missing them more and more, anxiety building and building, so at the end of the weeks before we saw them again, she was a bit miserable. Just never as demonstrative as I was on day one. She held it together far better than I.
In the end, it was a great experience for all involved.
The moral of the story?
I don’t know…….Do things?
We probably don’t always need a moral. But this did give you yet another piece of my mental puzzle. Or mental Jenga tower, however you want to stack it.
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