The thing with single parenting, is that it’s not the end of the world. When confronted with the reality of it at first, it seems like it might be. But then, it gets easier. Of course it would be nicer with daily help. And I’m slowly going insane from lack of adult interaction. The daily grind isn’t much different from before, though. In fact, I kind of like being able to do what I want without having to answer to anyone.
My kids, however. They miss their dad. They’ve been to his place a few times since he’s moved about an hour out of town. This last visit happened a few weeks ago. They must have had a great time, because it’s been a prevalent topic of conversation since. Especially from my younger two.
“Draw daddy’s house!”, Buzz ordered, handing me a magna-doodle.
“But… but I don’t even know what it looks like. Why don’t we draw our house?”, I tried to decline. It was no use. He’s in our house every day, it’s boring. He wanted me to draw daddy’s house.
So I did.
No, that’s not awkward at all. Nor was how I had to draw Buzz holding his dad’s hand. Then Jedi, then Abby. Then myself. He wanted us all there. Like a happy family. At daddy’s house. I obliged, swirling in stick figures, because I wasn’t sure what else to do. Maybe it shouldn’t have been awkward. Months later and we’re all still getting used to a new normalcy of things as they are. With more time, I’m sure none of this will be. But for now, it is.