Monday, January 24, 2011
Nine days is a long time in toddler time...but it's a century in mommy time. I count my blessings that Isabella is a chip off the ole block. Independent to a fault, that girl. I can honestly vouch that this quality will serve her well later in life.
This is the excited scene every time I am packing her up to go see her daddy. I'm so glad that she gets excited, I'm so blessed that she is happy and independent and looks forward to this even though it means a different routine and separation from mommy She handles this so much better than I do. My little rock. I cannot imagine how much harder this would be for me if I had to leave her with her daddy if she was crying and clinging to my leg.
All of her favorite toys, pillows and books have to be packed. She meticulously counts each one. She needs Bald Eagle, Jaguar and Skunk...if I were to forget to pack one of those...madness would ensue.
I usually weep a little weep as I'm packing up my baby bird...I may even sleep in her bed tonight because it smells like her. I'll bet every single mommy does this.
Any mother who has gone through a divorce knows exactly what I am dealing with...it's an unspoken bond among us. The first questions always being, "How often does she have go with her dad?" Not because we doubt they will be taken care of...contrary. I know without a doubt Isabella is very well taken care of and suffers no loss of kisses when she's with him. It's just that horrible dread of being separated from your young. It's so unnatural. It's a palpable depression that sets in and doesn't lift until you pick them back up after the visitation time...you smell them, kiss them and squeeze all your favorite little parts...much like watching a mother bear nuzzling her cub.
Some instincts are universal I suppose.