The woman is whirling out of control. Setting and maintaining boundaries does a world of good for all. Consider recording her interactions. When the former spouse would go nutso on me, I'd immediately write an email to my lawyer detailing the conversation, any threats made, date and time. Writing it while it was fresh in my mind was a great way to document those stressful occurrences.
My New Year's Eve was solitary but not lonely. At first I was going to see a movie, then go to the hospital and do Reiki or any of the calming skills I've been trained in. In the end, I decided to stay with my ailing pooch, read a good book, text the kids (who were scattered throughout New England) Happy New Year. One even called minutes after midnight to wish me one as well. It was all good.
Reading about your father time touched my heart, the love and loving ways you're just there for your kids. Here's something I wrote when my children were younger..
The Kiss Never Missed
What a sweet bundle she is, the glow of the nightlight caressing the rounded face of the sleeping child.
Each night before I retire, each child is checked, tucked and touched. The oldest will often have passed out in the middle of a task. How reminiscent teenagers are of two year olds when their steam peters out. An encouraging word and wee nudge is enough to get him going in a lumbering zombie like manner to bed uttering some strange guttural sounds.
The second checked is ten with a penchant for angles of any type. Many times the entrance will have to be perused for booby traps and/or clever inventions created before sleep. It's amazing how insidious and well-placed miniscule Lego's are in a boy's room. The elastic face ranging from gruesome to angelic is relaxed, as the glasses are removed. His knees always lower as the spectacles come off. A kiss on the forehead brings a grimace to his dreams, so a hug soft is given instead.
The last is the youngest, a six year old girl with waist length curly hair. PoohBear with his honey pot bathes her sleeping form in softest light. Many friends of stuffed and velvety demeanor join her in her slumber of innocence and butterflies. So gentle does she sleep, the last vestiges of babyhood evident in how she curls and cuddles.
Every night the soul whispers.. This is the kiss ne'er to be missed. Though each child is tucked and touched, with her a communion exists. Where her brothers shirk or wriggle, she relaxes.
How many more nights will the kiss of the mother bring that final settling before the need for independence asserts itself even in sleep? The kiss to the innocent, the kiss of unconditional love, the kiss of soothing.. the kiss ne'er to be missed completes every night.
