Back in the Saddle Again

No, not the bike saddle. My Momma saddle. The Tour will have to take a back seat to my life. Do not despair fellow fans. I will continue with periodic updates. Periodic being the key word.

My 4 year old arrived home last night. The rest of the crew are due back this evening. I needed the entire store of patience and love that I had renewed over the long weekend just for my youngest child.

My baby had just turned two when her Dad moved out. In some ways this was a blessing. She doesn't remember what it was like to have her Dad live here full time. Her norm is the Dad that comes to put her to bed several nights a week. She lives for the alternating weekends when she can spend two full days with him.

She does suffer, however. When those weekends are over she has a very hard time transitioning back into her regular life. She is often overtired, which doesn't help.

Our day started when she refused to get dressed by herself. No biggie. Then I asked what she would like for breakfast. I like to give them a choice at this age. "Sweetie, would you like yogurt with berries and honey or scrabbled eggs?". She refused to answer. I asked her several more times and still no answer. I told her that I was going to make her some yogurt, her usual favorite, and then went downstairs. You already know where I'm going with this. After I had prepared her yogurt, she hopped into the kitchen, refused to eat the yogurt and freaked out when I refused to make her eggs. The "scrambled egg" tantrum lasted a long, long time. And so did the morning. She went from one crisis to another. My girl was miserable.

Finally she allowed me to hold her in my arms. She sobbed for over an hour. This was different from her rages of earlier in the day. This was a deep and profound sadness.

What must it be like to be 4 years old and to be separated from your mother on a regular basis? She holds herself together all weekend with her Dad. She refuses to talk to me on the phone when I call. I know that there are times that she needs me and I am not there to help or comfort her. Do not think for an instant that I badmouthing my ex-hubby. He is a wonderful father. But when you are 4, there are times that only your mothers arms can bring you the comfort you seek.

So she saves it up, holds herself together until we are reunited. And then an anger she is too young to express with words emerges through her behavior. Until she can come to a time and place that she can sob out her sadness.

My happy, chirpy girl is back. The storm has passed. For now.