To everyone’s surprise, including my own, Marti has captured my children and fled the state.
Unfortunately, I gave him permission to do this. Oh, and he’s coming back. At least he says he is coming back.
Last Monday, a friend called Marti and asked if he would like to drive to Portland with him. Since Marti just went on family leave, there was nothing keeping him here, except for the 3 month old and the 4 year old, of course. Naturally, Marti said yes.
I agreed that he could go to San Diego to meet Matt and that this would be a good time to test the idea of driving for long distances with the kids. I assumed, of course, that the short trip to San Diego would be enough to convince Marti to come back with his precious cargo, including my new baby. My wonderful, beautiful, perfect new baby, whom I dote upon. The one I videotape sleeping, for pete’s sake.
Unfortunately, I was wrong. Marti decided to go ahead and drive to Portland.
He’s been gone for 6 days now, and I am starting to break down. I have to pump every four hours and I’m worried about losing my milk. I had planned on doing all sorts of things — cleaning, making repairs, running errands — but I didn’t count on the depression that would press down on me with my family gone. I can’t sleep — it’s too quiet. And I’m tired all the time. I wander around and try not to think about everyone being gone, especially Maya. Will she find her feet while she’s away? Will she forget the sound of my voice? Marti lets me talk to her and says she smiles and wriggles when she hears me. I hope he isn’t just comforting me.
Six more days until they come home. I just hope I can make it…
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