My Boy's dad broke his heart last week.
There wasn't a damn thing I could do to prevent it.
Just as I was getting ready to publish this post, he was supposed to call. He had called the night before and I heard them on the phone making plans to speak the next night. The Boy confirmed when he got off the phone that Daddy would call the next night. They had a plan.
We raced home from practice the next evening. The Boy jumped into the shower quickly so he'd be ready and The Girl waited with the cordless phone so that she could take the call if The Boy wasn't out yet.
He didn't call. In fact, he did call again until two nights ago, an entire week after he was supposed to. No explanation, nothing and while he doesn't call every night, he does usually call more than once in a week.
My sweet, sweet boy hugged me so hard as I tucked him in that night. Then he cried... he tried so hard not to, but he was disappointed and heartbroken and he couldn't help it.
There was nothing I could do to make the hurt go away. I told him I was sorry and that I knew how disappointed he was. I did not offer excuses, because there are none and I did not say mean things about his father, even though I wanted to, because how would that help?
My Girl, she took the cordless upstairs each night, for four nights, sneaking it up so I knew, but The Boy didn't..."just in case, Mommy" and until finally she gave up hope that he would call.
I would gladly throttle him.
I know that hurt and disappointment and hard knocks are part of life, but not like this...not from your own father. Your father is supposed to be there to help you bounce back from those life lessons... not cause you to learn them.
We pick up the pieces. I hug them hard and my sister, bless her, SHE calls. It's not the same, but it helps. She lets them know they are loved.
My baby's heart got broken and I couldn't stop it. In fact, I inadvertently played into it, so my heart is broken too.