TheMommyBlog

Saturday, November 28, 2009 Family

One thing I hate about the holidays is that it points up the separateness of families after divorce.

In our home, in our family, in our divorce, we’ve emphasized the family unit as something immutable, something permanent and indestructible. Moms and Dads may divorce, they may split one unhappy household into two happier households, but they will never NOT be a family. Sometimes, parents are a better team in two houses.

We share custody, interest in the children’s education, well-being, and stories about growing up fifty-fifty. There is no separating physical custody from emotional, legal from caring. We love our children equally and have arranged our lives for optimal unity despite the change in address and marital status. We co-host birthdays. We celebrate holidays together, or split the minor ones. We communicate, we fill each other in, we encourage the children to stay in touch with the other parent when they are with us, and we are co-conspirators for surprises and Christmas wishes. The only thing we don’t do together is the annual Christmas card, so I’ve let that slip a little. Seems sad to send out two cards to each of our friends, with the children in both and each of us in only one.

This year, my children went with their father to visit his family out of state. I’ve seen his parents and brother a couple of times since the divorce five years ago, but not my niece or nephews, my sisters-in-law, or my brother-in-law, whom I knew before I ever met my ex.

They were incredibly excited about the trip, though upset at not seeing me for eight days. I said, “You guys do a five day stretch without me every other week, whaddya talking about you can’t handle three more when you’ll be with your cousins? You won’t even remember to call me!”

“Mom,” my daughter said, “From the second my foot hits the sidewalk to Daddy’s car that I start missing you and I miss you every second until I come back.” I know what she means; I feel the same. Usually after the second day, but still.

Four days went by before I heard from anyone. I don’t have phone numbers anymore, and apparently there are 156487796 Roberts families in the city they live in. No way could I single them out in the listings returned online. So I waited.

A photo came through of my daughter on the swing. Later, one of two of the children with cousins on a trampoline. Finally, a call. I spoke to each, Daphne gushing about all the fun se was having, Logan declaring that it was the best house in the world—everything was all hockey, all the time—and Dylan just came on long enough to say he loved me. That was two days ago. Just before we all went to bed on Thanksgiving, Dylan called to say, “Mommy, since today is Thanksgiving, and I’m thankful for my family, I just wanted to tell you that you are the best mommy in the universe and I love you.” Wah!

And then last night, I received a text that said, “Hi mom I miss you so much! I can’t wate to see you again. I know I am saying the same thing every time. But I mean it. I will alwawys love you! Daphne.”

So I called back to thank her. “Mommy, there’s someone here who wants to talk to you.”

“Hi Aunt Mindy!”

My breath caught, and then I exhaled, “Isabella.” I was suddenly tearing up. “Oh Isabella, I wish I could hold you, I miss you so much! Are you having fun?”

“Aunt Mindy, why aren’t you here? Why didn’t you come, too?” Right in the solar plexus.

“Oh, baby. I wasn’t invited. Besides, this is your time to spend the holiday with your cousins and grandparents and everyone else. I do miss you, so much.” I hadn’t seen everyone in five years, this Christmas.

‘Okay, what kid of pizza would you like to order?”

“Two pepperoni, one cheese and mushroom, and three anchovy.”

“Okay!” Her hand covered the phone. “She wants one pepper, cheese and mushroom, and two ancheesys!”

“Great! Will you deliver to California? And is your brother the delivery boy?”

“Yep! Here’s Daphne again.”

“Mom, we’re going to sleep outside on the trampoline tonight because it’s our last night here. We have to leave early Saturday to drive back by Sunday.”

“That sounds completely awesome. I can’t wait to see you.”

“Hang on, Aunt Kelly wants to talk to you.” I was still wiping tears from my cheeks.

“Hey Mindy, how are things there?”

“Great! I’m here with My Guy, his three boys, his parents, and a golden retriever. If I squint, it’s just like being at home.” I paused. “Kelly? Can we set up a time, maybe a regular time, to Skype each other so that we can all talk on the computer and see each other? I can’t believe that Isabella still remembers me. She was two when I saw her last.”

“Definitely. We need to do that. Hey, I got lots of great pictures of everyone. I’ll send them.”

“Good - I still have the one from three years ago on my dresser.”

“I have that one in the kitchen.”

“I really miss you. Will you be sure to give everyone hugs and kisses for me?” My voice started breaking again.

“Of course—do you want to talk to anyone else?”

“I don’t think I can. Please say hi and tell them Happy Thanksgiving, okay? We’ll talk soon.”

My Guy came in ten minutes later, while I was holding the pillows and trying to slow my breathing, He wrapped his arms around me and the pillows and rested his head on my back. “I’m so sorry. Come on. Go put water on your face and we’ll go out for a coffee.”

We went for our third coffee for the day. I love being here with his family, we are having a lot of fun, but I’ve been a little shaky. PMS. Probably.

Today everyone is going the museum up near where I live, and I have an appointment for a massage My Guy made for me at eleven. I’ll do that, then I’ll go home and bring in the mail, curl up in my bed for a little while, and then join them.

Life is messy. We can’t be everywhere and see everyone at once. Everything is about pulling apart and coming back together. But it’s always sweet when we do, because when one part of us goes, another arrives in turn. The nuclear family is a myth. The reality is so much richer.