My husband and I are of the “his, mine and ours” variety of blended families.  Only, up until recently, it was a blending of his only – the mine part was all mine. Seven years ago,the other half of ‘mine’ walked away.  Seven months ago we began the battle  of blending our two families.  Recently, my daughter spent her very first night alone with him and his new family.

I drove away from the hotel where they were staying, with ‘ours’ crying for her sissy, wondering to myself if this is something I was really ready to tackle, but knowing my daughter well enough to know that if something went terribly wrong, she would not hesitate to call me and come home (even though I knew nothing would go wrong).

I returned a few hours later, with an overnight bag in tow, smiled politely and said, “If she wants to talk to me, have her call.”  She never did.  I slept fitfully throughout the night and busied myself early in the morning so I would not focus on her.  I gave my youngest my undivided attention, something I rarely am able to do and she loved every.minute.of.it.

Eventually, day turned to evening and my oldest returned home.  She said her goodbyes and as the door closed, the tears fell.  “I miss him,” she cried to me as I held her in my arms and tried to find the words to comfort her.  “I just miss him.” I held her and consoled her as best I could, but I…I have never been on this side of the coin.  I am always the “other mom” and I am a part of the family that is leaving until the next visit.

I sat and listened to my daughter retell the events of the weekend, marvelling at the simple enjoyment she had in taking a walk with him and collecting rocks…something we have done but thought it was boring.  Swimming and playing and talking and watching TV together, all the things they did…the same things I’ve done with her and yet…yet I can’t help but wonder if she enjoys it as much with me as she did with him.

Photo Credit: jetheriot