This is Homecoming weekend. My oldest (a boy) attended the dance with a great group of about 14 kids (9 girls, 5 boys) who met up at one boy’s home (LOVELY family, I’ve started becoming friends with the mom recently and I’m enjoying the new friendship), went to the dance, post-partied at another lovely family’s home (a sweet girl that my boy is becoming great friends with, and I in turn am enjoying getting to know her mother), and then all the boys converged on one of the boy’s homes for a sleep over.
I got to drive the boys to the dance. My vehicle filled with excitement and testosterone and enough cologne to open a cute little bodega shop! It was quite an experience listening to their banter for the short 20 minute ride. They were so fun to listen to talking about their hair, their cologne, the upcoming plans, etc.
I truly relish these kinds of memories and experiences. They are what makes me feel at peace!
I love being a mom.
I love experiencing the ups and downs with my little people.
I love seeing them interact with their world and seeing lessons I’ve taught them speak volumes.
I am filled with so much PRIDE about my kids.
I’d like to stop there.
I’d like that to be enough.
And in some regards, it is.
But then I think of the absence of the father. I see other fathers present. I see other fathers invested. I see other fathers who WANT to be present.
And then I remember, my little munchkin’s father is just a visitor. He’s so busy with work and his own life that he doesn’t
have make time to experience these things with them. He gives his kids the leftovers.
It makes me so very sad.
I feel horrible that I am somewhat responsible for choosing such a poor choice so many years ago.
He truly is MISSING OUT!!