Posted in distance parent, motherhood, non-custodial mom, non-residential parent, parenting

Every Highway…And There Are More Than a Few

Greetings from my folks’ spare bedroom in Bergen County, New Joisey. I arrived around 9:15 p.m., after a 3.5 hour non-stop drive across 10 highways:

  • Route 495, M:, C’mon People, Let’s get moving.
  • Route I-290: MA, Hello Worcester
  • Route I-90: Masspike Note to Self, Get EZ Pass Tag for Hubster
  • Route I-84: Connecticut Welcomes You, Sort of…
  • CT-15: Ok Hartford, You’re a Little Crazy but it’s Ok
  • Route I-91: How soon to New York Metro?
  • CT-15 Again: An Accident/Injury Attorney’s Haven
  • Route 87: Goodbye and Good Luck, Connecticut
  • Route I-287: The Old Tappan Zee Bridge Completely Gone yet?
  • Garden State Parkway South: Hello New Jersey!

My excitement builds as I cross each highway, getting closer to my hometown where, coincidentally, my son lives. I cross the NJ border and a part of me I am usually too busy in Boston to notice is missing falls back into place. I can never wait to see my son. I miss him waaay too much when we’re apart.

I have high hopes for this weekend. I expect my surly teenager to quash them in a heartbeat. Once upon a time, he was excited to see me. LM#1 would engage me in playing Monopoly and Lego Chess, building Lego Kits, watching Dr. Who marathons on Netflix and chowing down on popcorn and raw chocolate chip cookie dough. I would scoop my son up bright and early on a Saturday morning and we would be off for a day of non-stop adventures. I always had a plan for these trips – even if it was just a movie and the local arcade.

These days I’d settle for a smile and a single Dr. Who episode. Since the onset of my son’s teenage years my visits merit at best a friendly child and at worst a surly, unreadable teenager.

Maybe I need a Tardis. I can skip my son’s teenage years. He can live them with his father. I can step into a blue police box now and step out when LM#1 is 20.

Nah…I don’t want to miss these years. I love my surly teenager just as much as I miss the childhood he grew out of. Still, can we fast forward through the “I just want to play my video games Mom!” phase and to the part where my son doesn’t have to be pried out of the house?

It can’t come soon enough.

It is coming, right?


Just call me Cris...

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