Vinny left for L.A. today. This time, it’s only for three weeks. I put the “only” in there to comfort
myself, to remind myself that it’s not four—or worse—six weeks again. Just three.
Still… it’s a long time, for all of us. And unfortunately, he will be there
when Sophie has her next eye surgery later this month. It’s almost the exact same procedure
she had done last time, so at least I know what to expect. But I know the wait while she’s in
surgery isn’t going to be any easier to sit through this time around.
Thankfully, no one has come at me with the ever annoying
“absence makes the heart grow fonder” adage (so if you were thinking about it,
here’s a hint: Don’t.).
Here’s the thing.
Vinny and I have done the long-distance routine. More times than either of us would like
to recount. In our pre-children
days, it was a major annoyance and strain, to be sure. From my vantage point, it was always
easier to be the one leaving to go on the job. I’ve lived both roles, and even though location work can be
isolating and terribly lonely, it’s just somehow easier to be the one working
nonstop in an unfamiliar place.
Doesn’t make much sense, but there you go.
There is part of me that always struggles not to get
resentful towards Vinny during these stretches. Taking
care of the kids on my own gets old, quickly. As Vinny hasn’t cared for the kids for
more than three days in a row on his own, I know he cannot fully appreciate
what it feels like.
It wasn’t until yesterday that I shook myself out of my
pity-party-for-one. It’s easy to
get myself into a funk, to wallow in how hard it’s going to be, how long it’s
going to feel, how much I am going to miss
seeing/talking/laughing/yada-yada-yada with Vinny. I like to think we keep each other sane in our insane world.
The longest stretch I’ve gone without seeing the kids was
three days. And that was a L-O-N-G
three days. I missed them terribly
after the first day (though I do not regret for one second my decision to
attend AWP with my colleagues/peers/bad-ass Fast Forward Press cohorts).
On occasion we leave with the kids with my parents for a
night so that we might enjoy an evening out, a day spent running around the
house trying to tackle ten different projects in less than 24-hours. Yes, it’s comical and ridiculous.
There was a moment yesterday when it hit me like a brick: As
much as Vinny may not comprehend what it’s like to be home with the kids for so
long, I cannot (nor do I want to) imagine what it would be like to
not see them for three, four, six weeks at a stretch. Just thinking about it made me incredibly sad.
It was a humbling moment. It woke me up, shook me out of my funk in a hurry. It was the exact attitude check I
needed to help me through my day yesterday and to drop Vinny off at the airport
today.
I will inundate Vinny with photos, texts, and videos for the
next three weeks. We will use the
shit out of Facetime, though the kids are often less than interested in seeing
who’s on the other end of the phone.
I still can’t fathom how hard it is going to be for
him. These kids may drive us crazy
on a nearly daily basis, but we are also crazy for them on a daily basis. It never fails that, on the day after
we’ve sent them off to my parents, as we wait to pick them up or for their
arrival, one of us will invariably ask the other, “Do you miss the kids
yet?” The other one always smiles
and says, almost sheepishly, “Yeah.”
So even though I am jealous that Vinny gets a “break” from
home, gets to see our L.A. friends (I miss you all, terribly), and gets to eat
at all our favorite restaurants without me (and will recount each and every
delicious meal to me in torturous detail, thanks), I still wouldn’t want to
trade places with him for a second.
At least, not without the kids in tow.
You know that other annoying adage? “The grass is always greener on the
other side of the fence?” If no
one’s told you this before, let me:
It’s not.
