No one told me what to expect when I got divorced, I just did it; I trusted my instinct.
No one told me that when I got divorced it would feel like I divorced my children, too. I had the gut-wrenching foresight that we’d have to divvy up parenting time, but no one told me what that’s really like. No one told me that I’d develop premature empty nest syndrome from the abrupt transitions each week.
I became a part-time parent. I don’t want to be a part-time parent; I want to hear them get out of bed every morning, their feet scampering down the stairs and into my bed to bombard me with 20 random questions before breakfast. I want to clean up their crumbs and pick them up from school every day. I want to get annoyed and tell them to quiet down, secretly yearning for a couple days of silence.