Out of Control.

I’ve just spent almost the last 6 days without my Munchkin. 6 days with only a phone call or an hour or two to connect us. The mother’s guilt eats at me every single minute of our separation but alas, as a working single mum, this has formed a necessary part of our lives. The part we don’t like, but the part that provides us a home, food and comfort. What has been the most interesting observation though, is just how we deal with our separation and how it affects us when we are reunited.

Little Miss is 3. A tiny creature fueled by sheer joy, jubilation and rage. She can’t regulate her emotions properly so her outpouring of love is strong and her resentment of being forced into a separation against her will is equally as cutting. Seeing me after a long absence is and continues to be the absolutely pinnacle of my life. She squeals, she sometimes cries, sometimes she reintroduces me to everyone. It makes me cry and we both cry happy tears and then she tries to fill me in on the past several days at a million miles an hour. Her absence from me makes me want to pick her up and hold her and never let her go. And for her, then that’s where it ends. The tighter you want to hold on, the more she will morph into the Phoenix. The first couple of days when we are together, are. Sheer. Hell.

For Australia Day, I decided to take her to a new friend’s house for a BBQ. New, so they don’t know her many facets yet. The morning started off as normally as it should have, we made breakfast together, we played outside in the yard for a bit and we went to the shops. Once we got to the BBQ though, she very very quickly descended into chaos. We were there for approximately 40 minutes before I politely thanked our hosts for the invite and said “nice to meet you” to everyone else while I held her rugby style so she could scream and kick and flailed without hitting me. Didn’t even get to eat an Australia day sausage… Managed to smell the deliciousness on my way out the bloody door #unaustralian. Sorry guys, for the abrupt exit, but there’s only so much tormenting of the dog, splashing everyone from the paddling pool and pulling your shit out the shed that I can handle. She screamed through what little of the Triple J Hottest 100 I got to hear. She refused to nap when we got home, peed all over the couch, shoved a tea towel into the toilet and rubbed her dinner into the carpet.

Today didn’t fare much better. We tried to paint a toilet chart for her. That went fucking great. She smeared paint on the walls then in a cruel twist of irony, took a dump in her pants… stepped out of them then ran for the hills, getting shit EVERYWHERE. McDonald’s has a fully enclosed playground so that’s where we went. 10 fucking minutes we lasted before she became aggressive to the other kids because “IT’S MYYYYYY PLAYGROUND!” and then some asshat opened the gate and let her out before I could even get out of my chair and she ran flat chat into the car park. THANKS MATE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! While I waited for my heart rate to return to normal after visions of her getting flatted by an SUV subsided in my mind, WHILST HOLDING MY HAND just casually walks past someone’s table, grabbed a cheeseburger and took a bite. At least she said thank you.

Still, I need to go away again on Monday for another three days and I don’t want to go. I don’t want that hole in the heart feeling I get when she’s not by my side, nor do I want Lucifer’s daughter for the three days after I get back. I would really like to know if anyone else experiences this type of behavior after an absence from their kids and what do you do to combat it?

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