Birthdays: A Time to Laugh, A Time to Cry

Last weekend my youngest daughter turned 8. It was a great day. It happened to fall on a Sunday - the day that my entire family (brother, sisters, and all their kids) - get together and eat dinner. So, we celebrated with everyone that evening. But, because everyone gets together on Sunday, we also had a smaller party the night before with just us. That - for me - was the best. We had ice cream cake and she opened her presents from me and it was great. It was great for me and for Ellie. I even threw in a new MP3 player for my 10 year old, Phoebe.
But alas, at this place in time, it seems that every laugh is followed by a cry. And last weekend was no exception.
Ellie might be only 8 buy she is plenty old enough to know that mom should be around on her birthday. Or she should at least send a present, or a card, or maybe even make a phone call.
Well, she did call. And I'm not sure I should feel this way but I was proud of Ellie when she said, "You weren't here on Christmas and now you missed my birthday too!" And then she hung-up.
She showed awareness. She showed strength. But most of all, she showed she's pretty much getting sick of her mom not being a mom. And as sad as that truly is, it's also a good thing. It's a necessary stage that will (hopefully) allow her to find a "new normal."
But she cried later.
When I tucked her in she cried and she pleaded. She wanted her mommy. She wanted a real mommy. It wasn't fair that her mommy didn't see her on her birthday. It wasn't fair that she hasn't seen her mommy in so long.
All I could do was hold her. Tell her I loved her. Tell her she and Phoebe would always be the most important thing in my life. Tell her I'm sorry.
Because I am sorry. Sorry in so many ways. Sorry I chose to marry a woman who is an alcoholic. Sorry I couldn't put that woman back together. Sorry that no matter how hard I try, I can never be a mommy.
But I think all that should be saved for another blog post: "My Guilt." Or maybe "Wasted Time." Or something like that.

Because she needed clothes from my storage unit, "mommy" decided to come-up this weekend. She stayed with her brother and stopped-by yesterday for about an hour and a half. Ellie soaked up every minute. She laughed with her mom and brushed her hair and did a few of the things mothers should do with their daughters just about every day. Phoebe refused to see mom for the first half hour and then spent most of the time sitting on the other side of the room and staring at her.
Then she kissed each of them and walked back out of our lives... for another month or maybe 2 or even 6 months. She was gone.
I braced myself for another sad scene when I put Ellie to bed. But there were no tears. There was no mention of mom at all. I pulled her covers up, kissed her cheek, heard her prayers, and said goodnight. And it was a good night.
For once, a laugh wasn't followed by a cry.
Now, I've been a single dad long enough to know that sometimes these things are delayed. Ellie could cry tonight or tomorrow night. Her friend might have a birthday party at school next week, her mom might bring in cupcakes, and Ellie will feel the sadness all over again - she'll once again realize other little girls have mommies but she doesn't. Well, she does, but her mommy doesn't bring cupcakes to school birthday parties, or tuck her in at night, or dry her tears when she cries. And then more tears will come.
But the fact that she didn't cry last night is definitely a step in the right direction. It shows progress. It shows that she is achieving a "new normal". And it proves that one day, life might just be a time to laugh... and it won't have to be anything else.