Truly, he will will be the death of me

One of the lovely things about a divorce is that I don’t have to sell my body or my soul for a bit of ME time. I get it for free because my divorce decree says so. In years past I had to barter and trade favors for an hour or two of time away from my spawn. But now? I get it simply because the State of Colorado says so. So yesterday when I dropped Devon at his father’s house after his first full day of skiing I was feeling a bit pleased with myself. As I happily deposited Devon’s limp form with his dad, who I fancied wore a a somewhat bewildered expression as I draped a muttering/sleeping form over his shoulder, I skipped to the car and waived a jaunty tally-ho to the pair. Yesterday Devon had his first ever all day skiing lesson. And although the little weirdo would never even admit to me that he had actually been skiing, I had it on good authority from his teachers that not only did he really ski but he also enjoyed it. It wore him out and left him sleeping with his mouth open for the 40 minute ride home, but he had a gas getting there, or so I hear. So I was obviously smug as all hell to get rid of an over exhausted child and spend a night free to do whatever I wanted. That want included a bubble bath, a silly novel and an early bedtime because I am very exciting that way.
Today I had a long overdue coffee date with a dear friend I rarely get to see where we leisurely sipped our hot drinks and talked about everything from our children to our siblings to computer work. It was wonderful and so peaceful. But all good things usually come to an end and eventually it came time for me to pick Devon up from his dad’s home. We then had to do the weekly shopping with Loren and on the way home Devon fell asleep, not a good sign when it is 5:30 in the afternoon. Only twice before has Devon ever fallen asleep in the car and not woken up before I put him in bed. Today was one of those days. After 45 minutes of peace he awoke screaming his head off because not only was the car not running but he was asleep somewhere other than his crib. For that mistake he has been making us all pay for the last two hours. Nothing works. Nothing is good enough. Soft enough. Warm enough. The lights are too bright. The air is too cold. The sounds are too loud. This is the price for an evening without him. At the moment, with his soft hands clasped around my neck as he whispers none too softly, “Mai-Mai, turn off you computer. Come play me. Come help me. I need youuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu,” I am wondering if last night was worth all this……..