One of the biggest questions I’m asked is why doesn’t my partner want to talk to the kids and me when he is at work.
I reply to them what my husband has said to me in the past. That he works 14 hours a day, day in day out with the same people, doing the same thing, with no new scenery and the often with the same repetitive drama; there is nothing to tell. They call to check in and tell you that we love you and to make doubly sure you’re okay. Do they miss you? Of course but don’t in a sense because they are at work, and you are at home with the children, and they are in safe hands. To me, my husband says it’s the same as being a subcontractor down the road there are work and home. I can only tell you so much about my day. I guess he said for some it can be that sometimes making conversation is hard, and we just need you to do it all sometimes.’
So that is him, and I guess for most people whose work takes them out of the home for more than just the night it is just that. Then there is what I experienced, and I imagine there are many a father and mother who are the same; possibly. They stop calling not because they are a coward, lazy because they love you any less, miss you any less but at the time it seemed like the right thing to do for everyone just to stop talking.
For those that don’t know my husband and I went to Paris without our children. Did I miss them? Yes and no because like my husband said I knew they were safe at home with my mother. Did I want to talk to them when we were away? Initially yes then no then yes again. As confusing as crap for all involved.
My husband called twice a day and spoke for over an hour each time. Me I would talk just the once and then sometimes not at all. Then I avoided it only calling because my husband would say have you called yet? I blamed it on the time difference or would say you have already called them they will be right. To which he would say, and I would pretend not to hear, but they want to talk to you. I had lots to tell them wanted to so badly. So why would I not want to talk to them? Why would anyone want to stop talking to their kids?
Simply because I was hurting someone.
My eldest boy in the first week didn’t cope well without me. The youngest two, not a problem which is surprising because it’s usually my middle boy B2 who has the most trouble when dad is at work. B2 is like a beacon get to day 21 he is in countdown mode, get to day 28 piddling his pants with excitement, get to day 29 with no sign of dad and we are a verging on a mess. But he and they understand why we do this, why we live this way, and B2 is a lot like me.
So when I said mummy needs this, and I need daddy with me, he got it. Despite his young years the benefit of FIFO means they get things; take that as you like but it in my eyes it’s a benefit, and mummy doesn’t often need anything, so he knew this was important. My B3 he goes with the flow. Cruisy should have been his middle name.
My B1 it’s different for him. He understands but his personality dictates routine. He doesn’t like to do much without me even if he is with a loved one like Dad or Nana; so Paris was a big ask, and it was the first time we had been apart for so long. B1 he cried at the airport when we left and cried the 90-minute drive home. My mother tells me he cried himself to sleep most nights in that first week. He sobbed every time I spoke with him on the phone.
I was hurting him.
I never meant to. I was ‘holidaying’ doing this for the good of me and the good of my marriage and ultimately for him; them, but despite all the good it was doing us it was hurting him. I never meant to. Which then meant it hurt me and what do I do when I’m hurt I run. I stop talking. I ignore what’s going on put on a smiling face and avoid the problem until I can rationally face it. So I stopped talking to them.
All of them. I stopped calling.
It seemed the easiest way. I wanted to but couldn’t. I reasoned with myself I would be home soon. I could catch up with everything then. There would be no crying. No wondering if I was a terrible person for doing this to him and my mother who was trying to console him best she could.
And 16 days wasn’t long, and my husband understood. He picked up the slack for me not talking how long he would have done it I don’t know although I do know forever.
The problem is 16 days is a long time in anyone’s time frame.; adult or child. More so when you can’t hear the one you love’s voice anymore.
So I realised one morning as I window watched from our apartment in Paris into the next apartment windows I wasn’t helping anyone by not talking. Across from us was Garina blonde haired toddler. Garin’s nursery was the apartment across the road from us. Garin’s name revealed each morning when the curtains were pulled back by the writing on his wall.
This morning I watched Garin search for his mother as she hid behind the curtain playing hide and seek; he knew she was there but couldn’t see her he and he was confused.
How confusing it must be to my other boys, B1’s brothers. I was hurting my other babies so as to protect one it wasn’t fair to them. And I was breaking my one rule about being away which is communication and its importance good and bad. So I called that morning with the intention of a short and sweet phone call.
B1 answered and I waited for the sobbing but he didn’t. He didn’t cry anymore. Instead, we laughed talked about our adventures theirs and ours. Are you okay I asked him? Yes, he said. Do you understand I asked? Why had we to come?
Yes, he said besides.
And so I called again and again because it wasn’t hurting anyone anymore.
Xx Deb
{Image with thanks}
