We’re about an hour away from my parent’s house; eleven hours into our twelve hour drive. So far my eyebrows are intact. Can’t say I have high hopes they will stay that way once we get there though. Please let there be alcohol waiting for me.
I’ve realized over the last day or so that I’m really fucking pissed at my parents that they have gone more than six months without seeing the boys. WTF? Kiel wasn’t even three months old the last time they saw him, now he’s nine months and almost walking! Noah is starting kindergarten in a little over a week. They know nothing about his excitement. How dare they ignore my children like that!?!
My therapist (duh, like you didn’t know I had one) has tried to prepare me for this trip. She has tried to help me lower my expectations; to accept the “good enough.” To turn off the fantasy in my head of how I want my parents to behave.
It’s going to be hard. I’m not very good at keeping my emotions to myself. I want to tell them that I am hurt. Yet I know it will not do me any good. They will have excuses. Or they will turn it around to be my fault. That I was bitchy to them. That they thought I was mad at them. That I didn’t invite them to visit.
I know it is their loss. It really is. I have some fucking awesome kids!
But I still can’t stop wishing they would become the grandparents I want them to be. Perhaps just a new version of wishing they would be the parents to me I always dreamed of?