the sounds of silence

Getting divorced leads to several outcomes. Getting divorced with joint custody of children adds one very specific outcome, visitation. I don't begrudge her kid-time. She is their mother and is as deserving of kid time as I. And above all else, the kids are entitled, deserve, to spend time with her.

That's not to say that I don't miss them. I struggle finding words to describe the impact, the weight on my soul. My heart beats with a bit less emotion. A part of me is missing, and that is just the way it is.

But there is the peace and quiet that falls upon the house upon their departure. It is quiet. There is a distinct lack of squeals, fights, breakage, dog pestering, toilets flushing, refrigerator opening, doors closing, strange songs playing. Food doesn't disappear, no crumbs on the floor or counter. Candy wrappers are not to be found in the trash. No cries for help when it is discovered the toilet paper roll is empty.

Therein lies the source of my guilt, because for a time I enjoy, I treasure the peace and quiet. I get a moment to recharge, a moment to drop my guard and relax. Paul Simon once said that their song, the Sounds of Silence, was about youthful alienation. I do not pretend to reinterpret their words into my world. But for me, the song title conjures up thoughts of my guilty pleasure upon the scheduled disappearance of my children. I do like the quiet, I do like the lifting of responsibility.

Is this a normal? Do other parents feel this way? I know of at least one that admits to sharing such a feeling. We both look upon visitation as an opportunity to restore a bit of sanity. And it just as possible that we two are abnormal, crazy, just a wee bit selfish.

But only for a day or so, then I want all that noise and confusion back in my house. I want my kids. I wish I could schedule these moments at my discretion. My convenience, but that is not to be. I share my kids with their mother and that is how it should be. So, I cherish their presence as I can and when they are gone I enjoy the guilty pleasure of the sounds of silence.