Today is December 31st of one of the most difficult years of my life.
My mom is in a skilled nursing rehab, after a very serious illness, dementia has seemingly set in, as she sadly speaks about the past in the present. ( I am still too weepy to write about this, but my writer’s notebook in hand, I try everyday, and will get this on paper when my thoughts are less tangled.)
So, this brings up to my request to Ex#1 to take the kids bowling. Normally, the kids are with me, and we find something that spans the ages to bring some sort of festivity to the saying good bye to one stressful year, while welcoming in the new year, with a prayer that brings some sort of peace in the next 12 months.
Knowing that my mom has been close to the end, I reached out to make that request, so that the kids don’t have to sit around while I hide my head under the covers. His answer to me was that they have plans, but he would see what they could do. ( Really??? ) I am simply not in the mood to watch Taylor Swift and other happy people with silly hats and glasses, drinking bubbly drinks and dancing and kissing. I wanted to curl up with my Kindle and binge watch Homeland, until I naturally fall asleep.
It has been over a week since my request, so, I brought up the subject last night at dinner. This dinner was at 10PM, because that is when I returned from the visit with mom. I asked them if any of them had heard from their dad? Nope. So, he did not set up a group text ( parenting in the modern age) to ask you to spend the holiday with him? Group head shake and Nope. ( By the way, the group is still a plus one as GF has now seemingly become part of my entourage.)
Super! Why does it seem that when I say that “My plate is full,” no one listens? Why does it seem that the plate has gotten remarkably smaller, and more balls must be kept in the air. Excuse me as I mix metaphors, but now what? So, I asked the group what we would plan to do this evening, and did they want me to call their father to see if I could ask him to make some plans?
Again, a collective, Nope, we would rather stay here with you.
Time to wake up and rub the cobwebs from my mind. Exactly twelve hours after that conversation, I see the true gift here. My kids, (plus one, yay!! Sarcasm intended.) would rather be here with me, and my sadness, then out trying to have fun. What a great reminder of just how lucky I truly am.