I’m laying in bed.
I can’t move much more than my finger on the keypad of my phone because I’m squished between two boys.
Two boys that are snoring and grinding their teeth peacefully.
I love my boys.
So much it hurts, sometimes physically.
I don’t mean just the occasional elbow to the face in their sleep.
I mean like yesterday when they send texts that don’t get responded to or when they call and no one answers.
I can feel a pain in my stomach.
It really actually hurts.
I might be the reason he gets so angry and doesn’t reply.
I get that.
I get it if I’m talking about me.
Not replying to me.
I don’t get it.
I never have and I never will.
They don’t seem to care anymore.
They don’t stare at the phone like they used to or even ask me if I’ve heard anything.
They don’t ask to use my phone or if I’ll just drive over like they used to.
I should be happy that it doesn’t bother them as much anymore but honestly, that part is the most painful.
My youngest went to paint the other day.
To make things for everyone.
Just because he loves to paint.
No special reason or anything.
I didn’t go, it was just him and the one that took him.
He made me the prettiest daisy ever and he made his Grampy a Fathers Day picture.
He was told he could make whatever he wanted for anyone he wanted to…
No one else came up.
Fathers Day is in a few days.
He knows this.
I never would have imagined any of this.
I haven’t ever been a boy obviously but I know they need their dad.
I know that my boys love theirs.
I’ve learned over the past year not to say too much.
I don’t talk about it a lot, I just make sure they know that they can talk to me about anything, anytime.
I’m not sure if it’s because of me or if that’s just a really good excuse.
I try really hard to not care but I do.
I get upset that he ignores everyone.
I don’t understand how you can be like that.
There’s no chance of having a conversation and understanding why though, so I probably won’t ever get it.
That’s the hardest thing for me, that’s always been my biggest struggle.
Not knowing, not understanding and having to just accept it for what it is.
I like talking and communicating and discussing.
Why, what can we do to fix it?
How can I help make things better?
He doesn’t deserve that but they do.
I can’t understand what’s going on if you don’t tell me.
So I have to accept that I won’t understand.
More than likely ever.