I am really a home body. I guess I always have been. Oh I went through a spell when I was a teenager where I REALLY wanted to get away...FAR away. But that never happened. I ended up making other choices that pretty much locked me in as a "home girl". I often joke with my husband, who has not lived anywhere CLOSE to his parents since he was 18, that I am farther from my folks now ( a whopping 20 minutes!) than I have ever been in my life. My sister did go away for a while, a couple of times...but she always came back "home".
When my girls were born, my family was all right there to be a part of their lives. Every time those kids did ANYTHING in church, at school, on the ball field, my parents were there. They NEVER missed an event if my girls were involved. I never really had to wonder IF they were going to be there. If I told them about the (insert whatever event was going on here), they were there. And I loved that. I loved that my parents were such (and still ARE such) awesome grandparents. They went to somebody's Grandparents' Day Lunch every single year the whole time my kids were in elementary school. And they loved that.
When Mike and I divorced, we had an understanding that neither of us would move out of the area until the kids were grown. We would not take them away from the other parent. So even when my girls weren't with me at home, they were close by. Then, in July of 2010, my oldest baby decided it was time to leave the nest. And boy did she ever leave! 450 miles away!!! That. Was. Hard!!! Every time she would come home and then leave again, I would cry...and cry... and cry. I kept wondering if it was EVER going to get any easier. So then, last year...she up and got married. I absolutely ADORE my son-in-law, so I thought maybe that would make it easier for me to see her leave after a visit because I knew he would be taking care of her. Nope. No luck. I still bawled my eyes out as they were pulling out of the driveway. "Could this possibly get any worse?" I asked myself. Surely not...
Wrong. Last week (6/12/13 at 7:29 PM) the most perfect little boy in the universe came into my world and absolutely, completely stole my heart. Karson Michael Cole was born. I had the indescribable privilege of being present for his birth (something for which I will be eternally thankful to my daughter and son-in-law!). I have also had the privilege of staying with the new little family for the last 10 days to help out as they become acclimated to their new lives. I have cooked a little...and done a little laundry. Just pretty much tried to help Kerri in any way I could. I have also been able to hang out with that beautiful boy a bunch too... you know, the "Nana/Karson bonding" thing.
But now. whew....this is where the anxiety thing comes in.
It is now time for me to go home. Kerri is doing a FANTASTIC job. I am SO very proud of her! She is just the BEST little mommy! Of course I never doubted that she would be. She has always been great with kids. And Karson truly is a perfect baby. He rarely cries. He just eats and sleeps and looks around and checks out this crazy world he was brought in to. So I honestly don't feel that Kerri needs me anymore.
Rog really thought I was going to stay until the first week of July. And I probably would have if things had not gone as smoothly as they have. But I do think it's time. And I hate it. I absolutely, positively, from the depth of my soul...HATE it. In less than 24 hours I am going to have to get in that car and ride (there is no possible way I could drive. I would be a hazard to myself and everyone else on the road) for 6 hours knowing that I'm not going to get to see that precious bundle again for at least 3 weeks! But worse than THAT (in my head) is that he's not going to get to see ME!! I have this horrible thought in my head that he's not going to know me...that when he finally does see me, he's going to be hesitant to come to me...he's going to run and hide because I'm a stranger. That makes me totally sick at my stomach. So I am having a MAJOR case of separation anxiety.
It's going to be hard. Very very hard. But it's life, and I have to figure out how to handle it.
