Separation Anxiety

I am fortunate enough to have a husband who works, and unfortunate enough to have a husband who travels frequently. Sometimes, they're even home at the same time and then things really get awkward. (Sorry. I have a secret love of Mormon housewife blogs and sometimes I unintentionally pick up their wryly serene tone.)

Really, though, it's tough. Tough on me, but much easier than it used to be, in the times before I got used to how it felt to have a partner share your home and then leave for a week or two and then, just when it was beginning to feel like a new sort of normal to live on your own again, have them walk back in the door, only to leave again a week later. Now I'm used to that hectic-ness, and look forward to one day not having to deal with it quite as often as I do now. Then again, my mom copes with the same thing because my dad still travels regularly for work, so maybe it's just a lifestyle to get used to.

A lifestyle for adults to get used to. I'm starting to understand that for a kid, it's much harder.

My memories of Dad traveling when I was a kid are hazy. He'd be gone for a week, to Dayton or Oklahoma City, and when he'd got home, if I was lucky, I'd get a present, so that was cool. I don't remember it being tough. But I see it becoming tough for Sadie.

She's a hop, skip and a jump away from 2 years old now, and old enough to understand the passage of time. She's also at a point where routine is everything. It has always been important, but now it's crucial. We have a routine for meals, a routine for saying goodbye when Ana arrives in the morning, and a very long routine for going to bed that involves EXACTLY THREE STORIES while sitting on Mommy's lap and then walking around the room saying goodnight to every single object she has ever owned or will own, ever.

Daddy is a big part of that routine, and now he's not here. (He also doesn't read this blog, or else he'd guilt-trip me into infinity for saying this.) He gets home right around her bedtime, too late to really hang out together, so usually he gets up with her in the morning and fixes her a bottle. He checks his email while she sits in his lap and watches "Sesame Street." I get up a little bit later, but not too quickly, because I know this is their hang-out time and it's important. Also, I really like to sleep in.

Okay, now that I've become maudlin, here's a quick rundown of what our week has been like with Scott out of town.

Monday: Nothing out of the ordinary. We meet my friend Birge and her daughter Nova at the zoo. Sadie seems to be starting a phase wherein she wants to do crazy things like lie down on the dirty ground outside the orangutan house and declare that she's "sleeping." Scott's not there when I tuck her in, but that happens often, so I chalk up her behavior to a typical toddler phase.

Tuesday: Up at 5:45 am. WTF? She's begun to suspect something's amiss. Ana arrives and she whines, wanting to stay in my lap, but is easily diverted by the promise of taking the dogs for a walk, and a moment later toddles off hand-in-hand with Ana. That night, she gets into one of her cranky moods which can only be appeased by torturing the dogs and running around in circles until she falls down and cries because it's my fault.

Wednesday: Up at 6:30. When Ana walks in the door at 8:30, Sadie bursts into tears and orders her to leave. To say that this is unusual behavior is like saying that Cookie Monster rejecting an Oreo is unusual behavior. Fuck, even my analogies have Muppets in them. We drive to my parents' house for dinner, and she threatens a meltdown the whole way Her angelic behavior with my parents lasts until approximately 30 seconds after I've put her back in her car seat for the drive home, after which she fusses and cries for almost the entire hour that it takes to get home.

(Wednesday night addendum: She wakes up at least four times. That I can remember.)

Thursday: Up at 5:45. There is not enough coffee in the world. When Ana arrives, Sadie looks at her, looks back at me, and HITS ME ON THE ARM as hard as she can. I'm starting to get that she's mad at me. Thursday evening I take her to visit Marcia and Mirk, my grandparents, whom she hasn't seen in a month or two. She's good for about 45 minutes and then she crawls into my arms, closes her eyes and refuses to look at anyone. Bedtime at 6:15.

Friday: ???? Oh, right, Scott's home! Thank God.