chocolate coated parenthood

Well today feels like it has been a complete waste of mascara! Not even chocolate could have soothed my raw edges. In fact if there had been any around here it would have been more like rubbing salt into a wound.

An old wound.

Not that today started that way. In fact there is nothing quite as scrumptious as getting to bed the night before knowing that everything is squared away; all the guests have what they need, all the laundering of linen is done, most of the paperwork for the tax return is done so nothing more than a luxurious Sunday morning lie in is in order. Obligatory, in fact.

So with no further ado Sunday morning arrives along with a steaming cup of coffee and guilt free time to catch up on my reading. Pick up the Kindle…nah…leave that for the afternoon nap. Pick up the laptop…yip…Facebook first…click, click, reply, comment, like,…then here to see who has posted. Of course everyone I follow has been posting for days so best I get another cup of coffee!

And then I read this post

Now don’t get me wrong, I totally get how some gals choose not to have children and how others do but just don’t get the finer points of a child’s free range imagination.

But that’s not what brought on the blues.

It was the memory of an Easter Sunday morning from my previous life time. My then partner and I were excited because his young son was flying down to spend the Easter holidays with us. I of course had been unable to resist buying Easter Eggs and chocolate treats at every opportunity as my inner child was planning an awesome egg hunt.

Of course the little chap was most concerned that the Easter Bunny was going to know where he was; a guessing game that I was happy to play along with.
Eventually it was lights out time and the coast was clear for us to hide the chocolate treasure. We had such fun finding places to squirrel away the loot and went to bed in anticipation of the fun to be had in the morning.

But it was not to be. An early morning call-out put paid to that. A customer with a problem, not urgent, full of apologies, but please to come in. I was used to being woken at all ungodly hours and having the ex rush off to sort out every body else’s life ...but this morning, this  time, his very first Easter with his son? Really?
Looking back at it now this alone should have been a big red flag for me.

So there I was practically hiding in the bedroom willing the little one to stay asleep until his dad got home so that the two of them could make precious memories. But I heard stirring and footsteps and giggling and shrieks and knew that the cat bunny was out of the bag.

A little face full of joy peeked into the room, and when he saw I was awake he catapulted onto the bed unable to stop jumping with joy because the bunny had found him. He was so good though 'cos he hadn't touched one egg. He’d espied the first one and come running through to find us to tell us all about it and I felt so guilty that he’d only found me. Of course he wanted to know where his dad was and I tried to make light of it but my heart was breaking.

For both of them… dammit!

I wonder what the little one’s Easter Sunday was like this year. Were eggs hidden? Does he still have that amazing imagination and ability to believe the magic of the fantasy?

Did his father now living an ocean and a continent away find the time to call him or did someone else’s “stuff” take precedence.

I wouldn’t know.

I’m not allowed to know.

What I do know though is that I would have made an awesome Mom.

 Speak quietly to yourself and promise there will be better days. Whisper gently to yourself and provide assurance that you really are extending your best effort. Console your bruised and tender spirit with reminders of many other successes. Offer comfort in practical and tangible ways — as if you were encouraging your dearest friend. Recognize that on certain days the greatest grace is that the day is over and you get to close your eyes. Tomorrow comes more brightly.
— Mary Anne Radmacher