When I think Sunday I instantly think “family time” – beach, rest, food, laughs and time to spend together.
But I have a love/hate kind of relationship with Sunday.
I share custody of my 4 (almost 5) year old. His dad and I split up when I was 7 months pregnant and I have been single ever since.
I love our life. I am grateful that “Dad” and I get on as well as we do. We have different opinions about some things but for the most part (these days) the shared parenting thing is without too many big issues.
Well, except that it means my boy has to share his time between us. As he is getting older the time spent away from my home is increasing, we will get to a week each shortly and there it will stay.
So what does this have to do with Sunday?
When my little man is spending time with his Dad, I miss him (obviously). When he spends time away from me on a Sunday I miss him more. The house is so quiet, I usually work instead of play, the contrast to Sundays spent with him is so vast.
I usually spend the day in a kind of mopping haze.
When he is home we laugh, we stay in our pjs until midday and eat pancakes for breakfast. He yells at the TV as he plays Skylanders and we take the dogs for a walk or a swim. But mostly we laugh. And it’s loud. Often it is too loud, but I am learning that is almost always better than being too quiet.