There’s not a ton of news today, but it’s one of those days where the weight of what’s coming feels louder than anything actually happening.

I’ve been sanding and painting around the windows and the sliding door — the same projects I prepped yesterday. Trying to knock it out in little pieces between toddler interruptions and sibling squabbles.

Aubree keeps sneaking off with my tools. Apparently a wet rag with paint on it is today’s sensory toy of choice.
Piper has been on a mission to sit in my lap at all times and sneak into her Mimi’s office like it’s her full-time job. I had to retrieve her more times than I can count — she just doesn’t understand why we all can’t just hold her forever.

Finally got her down for a nap. I think she’s sleeping. Probably. Hopefully.

Their dad is getting them tonight. He takes them on Tuesdays and Thursdays when he doesn’t have them for the weekend — which he does this weekend. But this time, it’s longer. It’s Father’s Day weekend, his birthday, and the start of one of the two nonconsecutive weeks he gets them during the summer.

That means I will have them during the day, not night, except Wednesday. He has to work Friday day, but since he will get them this weekend too, then he will get them after work once again. I won’t see them for a whole week. I will not get them back until the following Sunday. I do get to make nightly video calls, though, so that is something, I guess.
And I’m not really sure how to feel about that.

The longest I’ve gone without seeing them since all this started is three nights. This is more than double that — and something about it just… aches. I know it’s part of the schedule. I know this is what shared custody looks like. But knowing something and being okay with it? Two very different things.

And honestly, ever since the temporary custody hearing, their dad has pretty much cut me out. I mean, I kind of understand, but we can still co-parent.
Before that, he was trying to get back together. And now? Silence. No checking in. No conversations. Just transactions and hand-offs. He does video call them about every night too when he doesn’t have them. It can be inconvenient at times.

I’m trying not to spiral. I know he loves them in his own way. But he’s also…
self-centered. Oblivious.
And I worry. Because the obvious isn’t always obvious to him.

So today’s just a heavy-feeling kind of quiet.
I’m painting trim. Preventing toddler tantrums with snacks and snuggles.
And mentally bracing myself for a stretch of days that feels way too long to go without hearing my babies laugh, fight, sing, or wake me up at 3 a.m.

This isn’t easy.
It’s not simple.
But I’m showing up. And when they come back, I’ll be here — waiting with snacks and open arms.