My Dirty Little Secret

I have a dirty little secret. I’m willing to bet most of the other divorced parents out there share it with me.

I have joint custody of Bubba, shared with my ex-husband Mr. Perfect. This means that I get Bubba for 14 days out of every month. Custody agreements can be confusing. Every month I sit down with a highlighter and chart it out on the family calendar, the days that we have Bubba at our house boldly shaded florescent yellow. Then it gets even more complicated. There are special concessions for birthdays, holidays and vacations. Some months get so convoluted that I wind up using a second highlighter, flamingo pink over florescent yellow, differentiating the days that I would normally get him verses the days I actually get him on that particular month. I’m sure this all sounds familiar to anyone else who has a custody agreement with an ex-spouse.

Many times I bemoan the custody agreement. I despise the days that I have to wake up at 5 in the morning to drop Bubba off at daycare, sometimes knowing I won’t see him again for two weeks. I hate that even on those wonderful days when I get to drive 30 minutes across town to pick him up again that I have to do so within the little window of time that Perfect specified which always falls directly during rush hour traffic, converting my 30 minute drive to a 2 hour commute. But that’s not my dirty little secret.

This is my dirty little secret: I am secretly grateful for the time that I have while my son is at his father’s house. 

Don’t get me wrong: I adore the time that I have with Bubba. Long lazy days playing Hot Wheels and Transformers, coloring and practicing letters, adding and subtracting stickers and pennies, painting water color masterpieces and sculpting thousands of worms and balls out of play dough. I love singing endless silly songs and dancing made up dances. I love the time I spend with my son, but I also love the time when he’s away.