heartbeat....

my house is missing it's heartbeat.  that rhythmic pulsing that makes the floors rumble, the windows rattle and my head spin.  the elephant feet running up and down the stairs, the arguing over who gets to sit on which side of me for story time, the shoving at the bathroom sink to get to the toothpaste first.  i miss all of this, my house isn't the same without it's heartbeat. 

my kiddos are on spring break and they are spending it with their dad.  they have been gone all week.  i have seen them everyday, because spring soccer practice started this week, but it isn't the same as having them here.  i don't get to wake them up with a kiss in the morning, i don't hear them giggling at the breakfast table, i don't get to yell at P for always being poky and having to wait on her, i don't get to hear about their day when i get home, i don't get to ask, "what do you want for dinner?" and they never agree on the same thing, i don't get to hear mom 3500 times in an hour, i don't get to tuck them into bed. 

i have been dropping them off with their dad (or him picking them up) for over a year now.  every time they leave i cry.  it is hard for me to watch them go even though i know that they will come back.  today i went and picked up P for practice and on the way back i started getting all mushy and mom-like as we got closer to her dad's house.  i wanted to hold her hand and give her big hugs and all she wanted to do was tell me all about her friends and how wet it was and how awesome it is to play soccer in the rain.  i wanted to say "i was there i know give me this moment" but i didn't.  she was so excited and rambling so fast i had to ask her to slow down so i could understand her.  then she got out, blew me a kiss and ran into her dad's house without turning around, no wave, no i love you. 

i drove away feeling empty, sobbing that my babies were in a house that i wasn't welcome in.  i came back home, ate dinner, watched a movie i have seen a thousand times, did some laundry, did the dishes, vacuumed, read a trashy magazine and now i am here in my bed.  crying.  yes crying, not because i hate my life, or i hate my place, or even that i am feeling sorry for myself for the choices i have made.  i simply miss my kids.  even at this hour when they would be sleeping peacefully in their beds, i still miss them because i know they aren't upstairs. 

so i sit here missing the heartbeat of my house.  sometimes reality hits you really hard.  when it hits me i tend to cry.  most of the time i hate that i cry, but right now it feels good to cry.

good night