am·biv·a·lence [am-biv-uh-luhns]

1.  uncertainty or fluctuation, especially when caused by inability to make a choice or by a simultaneous desire to say or do two opposite or conflicting things.

2.  Psychology . the coexistence within an individual of positive and negative feelings toward the same person, object, or action, simultaneously drawing him or her in opposite directions.

A week from today, my daughter and granddaughter will be on a plane, flying off to the next leg of their life journey.  My life, which has been turned upside down and reconfigured by their presence for the last four and a half months, will be turned upside and in need of a new configuration.

If I am brutally honest, part of me can’t wait.  I will be able to pee by myself without sneaking away and without the likelihood of the door suddenly bursting open to reveal a little person standing there looking at me as if to say, “Oh, there you are!”

And I will be totally devastated.  I’ll be peeing alone all the time, and no little person will come bursting in looking pleased to have found me.

I won’t have a messy kitchen all the time and the house won’t be full of the aroma of whatever my daughter’s cooking wafting through the air, tantalizingly.  I’ll be able to do laundry – putting a load in the washer in the morning and leaving it til that night after work.  Or the next morning.  No one trying to wash diapers or cute baby clothes in-between.

No diapers.  No baby clothes.  No sweet baby hugs, little chubby arms wrapped around my legs… no demanding “uh!” urging me to action – her favorite word with a thousand meanings… no one bringing me the shoes she wants me to wear, or shrugging with both arms spread wide when she doesn’t know where the shoes are, or the bib, or her spoon, or what Mommy was thinking when she put her in the tub without her duckie.

It will be a relief. I can clean up my basement, put my books on their shelves, move the TV downstairs, convert the crib to a daybed, and sleep through the night every night.  Take the baby gate off the top of the steps.

No more baby to help up the stairs, holding both hands – one step at a time, such a big girl – no more baby to help down the steps, “Ka-boom, ka-boom” one step at a time.

Ok, excuse me, i’m going to go cry for a little while… back later.

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17 thoughts on “am·biv·a·lence [am-biv-uh-luhns]

  1. sirqsmlb

    It was wonderful that you had the leg of their journey cross path with yours. What a gift for you all. Like you said, there will be pros and cons to them leaving. But it is hard to miss them if they never leave. I wish you many wonderful memories and many new ones to come.

    hugs,
    fiona

    Reply
    1. sofia Post author

      It has been a gift, Fiona, and some things will be easier when they’re gone. And i know it will all be ok in the long run. Just some sadness now. Thanks for the good wishes. Hugs…

      Reply
  2. Wordwytch

    Hugs, Hugs, HUGS! Been there. Done that. Cried myself out. Son #2 and family lived with us for a while when the baby was about 10 months old. I was devastated when they left. Took me ages to get back to “normal”. But, I did.

    And… This week, I’ve been the Nana Taxi. I’ve been taking my grandsons to school as their mom got a new job and the family has one car. So, I’ve been getting hugs and cuddles every day and today was the last day. Granted, they live in the same town, but I won’t be walking them into school or to see Grandpa Wolf in the afternoons…

    So, I truly understand. Lots and Lots of Hugs.

    Reply

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