Coming to Grips With Not Going Along

When my ex arrived to pick up the kids for Daddy Day today, I was ready to be cheerful and happy.  I was coming off the best week I've had in I can't remember when, I have been just loving being Mom to my kids, and I wanted to really put that forgiveness thing into practice. 

He looks at the kids and says, "Hey, guys!  Do you want to go to Edaville Railroad today?  Grammy and Pop want to take you there." 

Happy feelings gone like last winter's snow. 

I love Edaville.  I love the trains and the rides and the food . . . but most of all I love watching my kids enjoying every second of it.  I hated the thought that they were going to make a trainload of delightful memories . . . and I wasn't going to be a part of them. 

As my ex drove away with my kids, I signed "I love you" to them and sobbed hysterically.  I thought very unforgiving thoughts.  I raged anew at how he gets to be the "fun" dad, doing all kinds of once-in-a-lifetime stuff with them while I am the Mom who takes them to doctor appointments and corrects table manners and enforces time-outs for hitting and washes laundry and cooks meals and ... (I think you get the idea.) 

Let me admit here and now: my children probably did not miss me one iota.  They had a fabulous time, as I could tell as they prattled on about their adventures when they called me on the way home.  My sorrow was not that they were missing out.  It was sorrow because I was missing out. 

After my initial crying fit and two episodes of Zoo, I was able to take a deep breath and get some perspective.  No, I will not be able to take them to all the cool things their dad will.  For one thing, there is a very real time issue.  (While they went to Edaville, I mowed the lawn, cleaned the pool, and wrote an article, all of which needed to be done.) 

There is also a money issue.  I can't drop $90 just on admission to a theme park for one day. 

But there are lots of things that I get to do with them that are building more than a single memory, they are creating an ethos of childhood.  I want that to be an ethos of love, of safety, of reliability, of laughter, of God, of joy ... and also of godly discipline and responsibility and fortitude. 

What are those things?  Our pool times, our spontaneous picnics in the backyard, movie suppers, post-dentist ice creams, bad-day visits to the playground . . . and the 20 timeouts in the first 90 minutes of the day, the loss of a toy after leaving a bruise on a sibling, and the question, "Is that how you speak to your Mother?" 

I think it's working, too.  Because when my munchkins called me tonight and told me about the princesses and dinosaurs and roller coasters (about which my son was very "brave"), they asked me to read them their Bible story . . . and to pray with them . . . and to sing to them.  

It was beautiful. 

So I'm no longer angry with my ex.  I am at peace with the loss.  And I am so thankful for all I have . . . especially those two precious little ones asleep in the next room.