P&E

My kids real initials are P&E, which is an accounting term for Profits & Earnings, neither of which either of my kids are for me. Maybe one day they will earn their own way, but for now...

Anyhow.

Both kids will be in Seattle next week.

Which is terrifying. I feel like a horrible mom for saying that.

And I don't. 

I went to dinner last night with one of my new downtown friends. She is a mom of elementary school kids. She is divorced and splits her time between Seattle and Pullman, WA. Her kids live in Pullman, and she works in tech in Seattle.

Like me, she is a part-time parent. She knows what it is like to both be a mom and not live full-time with her kids. When I told her P&E were coming back to town at the same time, she said,

"That must be so stressful." 

She said what I had been thinking but I could not admit. I've been working on "my stuff" lately, and I realize that many problems in people's personal (and even professional lives) are often because we are not honest with ourselves. For me to admit or acknowledge that I am terrified of my kids being home is the first step. Then I can do something about it.

Why am I terrified of both of my kids coming home at the same time? I happy to have one at a time. 

P&E have very, very different personalities that sometimes clash and there can be big problems. I don't like big problems.

Early this morning, Jack forwarded me a text from one of our college friends whose 14 year old daughter "up-and-died." "Up-and-died" is a non-medical medical term for unexplained and/or unexpected death. Ada, my firstborn who died an unexplained and sudden death, would have "up and died."

Yesterday, this friend carried ten pounds of his daughter's ashes on a hike and scattered them off a cliff. "I carried the ashes in the same backpack that I carried Madison in as a baby. This was the last time I carried her."

I've read the text three times and I've cried every time.

I felt like a heel for not joyously welcoming my two living, breathing, kids back home, especially at a time when almost every other mom on the planet with kids under the age of twenty-two has her children underfoot. Here I am, dreading two weeks. My kids are alive and healthy and I should be happy. I should be thrilled, but instead I am not.

What should do? When I started back to work, I had a friend who said when I started to feel upset, I should ponder three things:

• What am I feeling?
• Why am I feeling this way?
• What am I going to do about it?

When I am at work, I am good at sorting these things out. At home, not so much. At work, I am not nearly as emotionally invested in whatever problem I am having as when my kids are ready to kill each other.

What can I do? 

1. Learn from others 
• Alexis and David Rose, my favorite fictional brother and sister even, fight all of the time. ("Ew, David!") Fighting between siblings is good, right? 
2. Practice gratitude. Kids home = 
• Cranberry muffins
• Chocolate chip scones
• Claire-Adele's cooking (see: stuffed portobello mushrooms, chicken parmesan, and peach pie)
• The Boy's movie must-see list
• Legos
• Hiking
• Hearing stories
• Playing game (Scratch that--50% of games lead to fights because everyone is my family is fiercely competitive.)
• New music that the kids introduce me to
• Team crossword puzzles with the Boy