We’ve just come back from a long stay in sunny Portugal.
The kids were with their Dad for nearly 4 weeks (I was working from home in Portugal as well), and then came to me for the last 2 weeks of their school holiday.
We had time in the countryside and we had time at the beach.
And, apart from some minor issues with the teenager, dear Miss Z, who has now informed us that her pronouns are they/them/their and changed their name to M, the holiday was actually ok.
We went up and down the country and had a fun (albeit exhausting) time.
And then came the last day. Between going out for lunch, then the nearest town for a pre-departure Covid test, to going to the river for one last swim, the sunset was fast approaching and that meant only one thing – my child was leaving.
After so many ups and downs, trying to make things work whilst maintaining my sanity, my health and a reasonable level of respect and boundaries, I failed.
And given that my child’s Dad moved to Portugal early this year, then the only option was for them to go live there too.
We took care of the school transfer and registering them for the new school year at the new Portuguese school, and so when they left from the UK this July, that was it.
But of course it didn’t hit me until that last day of holiday. Until they left in their Dad’s car. My child, my first baby, that I fought so much to have.
I cried buckets afterwards. And my heart is still broken. I feel a failure as a Mom, and I blame myself.
I’m here and they’re there. And it will never be the same. I know I’m still their Mom, and they may still come back, but right now, I’m just broken.
The other two kids are still a handful, and I hope I’ll be able to cope, but at least they still respect me.
Hats off to all the Moms and Dads out there that are able to raise respectful kids, without yelling or punishing, with setting positive boundaries and natural consequences. I am still learning. And hope I can do better as time goes on.
But not today. Today I am broken and incomplete. 😢