MoMo's birthday party is this weekend. Her birthday isn't, and we've already had a small family party, but this weekend is her "invite the friends from daycare and mom and dad's friends to hang out with cupcakes and bubbles" party.
And in a weak moment, I FB-invited Leigh. She replied that yes, she was coming. Now, I'm not sure I want her to come. Yes, I miss her, but I've enjoyed the peace and sense of boredom that she's left in her wake.
Here's the thing. We've passed along her school uniforms, a pair of shoes and some basic hygeine stuff. If she comes home, even for a little bit, she'll want to take stuff with her. I'm not willing to let her do that. But I'm having an internal dilemma about that.
I'm honest enough with myself that I can't decide if I'm doing this to full-on embrace the tough love we're living out, or because I'm just flat hurt that after everything we've been through, she left. I want her to "suffer" the consequences of storming out in a snit and leaving behind all her makeup, her ipod charger and her favorite books. I want her to know that she is truly on her own to fend for herself out there in the big world, but I don't know if it's because it's what's best for her, or because I know she's missing those things, and I have them.
We went through so much with her in the ten years, four months and seven days she lived with us. I at least deserved a hug goodbye. Or to be picked over a burgeoning drug habit. Or both.
ba-deep ba-deep ba-deep . . .
7 years ago