Downright Hard

I wish I had listened to myself. I wish I hadn’t let the pressure to keep things fair for both kids color my decision. I wish the whole thing was easier than it was, but that is all I can do now – wish. Last Thursday we got our new van (more on this later). I was so surprised that we were driving home in the new van, I hadn’t even thought about bringing along any paperwork, so I had to take the title to the old van back to the dealership Saturday morning. Of course, it has snowed every day since we brought the new van home, so I wanted to give us extra time Saturday morning. We arrived at the dealership sometime around 11:30 and the transaction didn’t take long but we would a good 35 minute drive outside of town and I had to drop some things off with my friend on our way back to the stadium where the cheer competition was being held. It was close to one by the time we reached the stadium and Love Bug was a little hangry. Grandma, the kids mom, and a cousin met us at the doors. I knew the kids mom would be there but didn’t tell them, thinking it would be nice surprise and it was. Things between me and the kids mom have evolved positively since our first very bad meeting, but there is still an unease between us. As we waited in line to enter the event, the kids mom put lip gloss on Chica Marie’s lips, mentioning loudly how chapped they were and how awful it was that her lips were so chapped. After we entered, we walked around to find ice cream for Love Bug because he remembers getting ice cream the last time we were in the arena for the Globetrotters event. Grandma got both the kids dippin dots then a hotdog meal and we sat down. The kids being there was a surprise for Mini Momma and she was delighted to see them, yet refused to sit with the rest of us, opting to sit closer to her team. In addition to Grandma, the kids mom and the cousin, Grandma’s wife was there and so was Mom’s boyfriend, who the kids have met before. The kids sat down next to their mom and after a few minutes Grandma commented how good Love Bug was doing sitting still. I sighed. Of course he was sitting still, he was eating the food she had bought him. Before long the kids asked for cotton candy and I let them go with their cousin to buy some. I told her a small bag or one big one for them to share but they came back with two big bags. And things with Love Bug went downhill from there. Not only did he not want to sit, he also did not want to listen to anyone. At one point his mom bought him water to “wash out all that cotton candy” and help him be more calm. Another time he was tantruming on the stairs and we were both there. His mom tried to grab him the same time I did and she ended up getting kicked, then releasing him to me. I was getting frustrated at that point but trying to keep calm so we could watch their sister and her team. Going into this event I thought about sharing the pending diagnosis for Love Bug as a way to explain how he acts. I felt judged for my parenting skills, or lack thereof, the more Love Bug acted out. I knew he was overwhelmed, I knew he really just needed to leave, but I felt like we couldn’t do that, we couldn’t just leave. Thankfully, we had to go by a certain time in order to take Primero into work. I was so exhausted by that point I could have wept. But, it was Chica Marie who cried the whole ride home, sobbing that she wanted to see her mommy again. She was told next time she went to see her Grandmother she would see her mom but I don’t think anyone told her directly that her mom was living with her grandmother and therefore her sister as well. I think it would hurt her heart to know her sister and mom were living together. I can sense those same old feelings Chica Marie used to feel during visits when she was pushed aside for her older sister and I hate it for her. We do not have a date set for the kids to visit, but I’m sure it will be soon and I am already dreading it. I am so glad their mom is doing better I am very glad she can be in their lives, but honestly this whole thing is just downright hard.

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