The Transitive Vampire

I am coming up for air.

We made it to Colorado. In the Ledger of Good and Bad--as if it worked that way--it's a wash so far. Husband and I attempted to go out one last time on his final night in town, but between placing our order and the arrival of our margaritas, we got a call that Girl had woken up with a very high fever. Alas. Boy mostly recovered, but woke from a nap screaming with ear pain yesterday afternoon. I suppose congestion plus long flights resulted in too much trapped fluid and a proper ear infection.

On the plus side, fingers crossed we'll close on our house on Wednesday, two weeks early. This is great for many reasons, not least of which is our poor menagerie is languishing in a pet resort (I kid you not, that's what it's called). The kids and I visited yesterday, and young Dali was out of her mind with excitement. Incidentally, I put in an email to a dog trainer who does house calls. Best get started on that soonest.

Ho hum ho hum. Sick kids. Moving.

I'm forgetting something.

Oh yes! The utter fear! That's right. Minor detail, but I'm terrified. Today, as Boy yelled for the millionth time that he hates me more than anyone and tacked on the horrible claim that he hates himself too, I realized how long this road is going to be. I miss Husband, and it's only been a week. We've been married six years, and apart for over two of those. The past two and a half years is the longest continuous time we have lived in the same country and it was nice. I didn't only have my co-parent, I had my friend. A lunch buddy. Someone to watch TV with in the evening. Someone to share a bottle of wine and fret about the state of American politics. While of course we each traveled a fair bit in the past few years, it was never more than a couple weeks at a shot. Now I'm measuring out spoonfuls of time, one day on top of the next.

Boy told me he loves his dad best of all, which I knew. He apologized for yelling at me in Ikea, and matter-of-factly explained that he only did that because he doesn't like me very much. I don't really take this to heart--if you can't blame your mom for everything, who can you blame? It does wear on me a bit, though. In his more charming moments, he confesses that even when he says he hates me, he still loves me. I know that too. He explained that when he becomes a vampire bat--not if, when--he will not suck his family's blood, but rather will only suck the blood of other people's families.

If that's not love, I don't know what is.