You would think I would be used to it by now.
But every time I put Z-man on a plane back to school, I cry.
And I mope.
And I am on edge.
Until he returns home again.
Wonderhubby just looks at me like I have lost more than a few brain cells and rolls his eyes. I know he knows that I hurt, but his sympathy for this is not at a high level.
I've been thinking about this ... and I think now I understand why.
I am a wuss who has always had full custody of all my children.
He has been a divorced father whose child was unceremoniously yanked more than 180 miles away.
J-bear and her father were/are very close. Before the mother of the year decided to move away and take her with, the two households were no more than about 2 miles apart. In fact, hanging out with me would have made them 25 miles apart, and there was some serious discussion about this while our relationship was developing.
And then the bombshell:
"I'm moving to Podunk, U.S.A., and I'm taking J-bear."
She was 11. Father and daughter were devastated, but the MOTY was determined.
It came to a crashing halt when a natural disaster scared the holy bejeezus out of the already skittish and almost clinically shy J-bear.
She started following the mama around like a lost pup. She refused to stay in the house alone. Her grades plummetted.
And then he got a phone call.
"I want to come and live with you and Janet."
It was midway through her eighth-grade year. We tried to convince her and the MOTY to wait till June and make the transition to high school, instead of a semester of middle school. But no.
They were determined.
That's how she came to live with us while the MOTY stayed in Podunk.
But the years that came before are, I believe, the reasons why Wonderhubby may understand my pain but thinks I should get a grip.
Divorced fathers live with this all the time. I have been spoiled for 18 years.
And even though I know this, every time I leave my boy at the airport, I cry.
And my boy does too.