I have another day mostly to myself. Dom has the boys. Chris is at work. There's plenty or me to do around this place to get ready for our move. But I'm not doing it. It's the kind of day many moms long for. The house to yourself so you can clean without someone needing you. Chris thinks I'm crazy because I get excited for the days when I can clean. And yet--I don't do that much cleaning when I can. I put it off.

My Masters-In-Psychology-Sister tells me that perfectionists are the worst procrastinators. I can see how that makes sense. If you know you can't dedicate the time it's going to take to do the job the way you see it in your head, it's hard to put the work into motion, knowing it's going to fall short of your expectations.

I've moved 8 times in the past 11 years. From home to my first apartment with Dom. From that apartment to our first house. From that house in Michigan to an apartment in Connecticut. From that apartment to a bigger apartment to make room for our first child. From that apartment to a house to get out of apartment living and to make room for another child. From that house to a smaller house to get our kids into a good school system. From that house to a small apartment I shared with Jill while I was getting divorced so I had a place to live when it wasn't my turn to be at the house where the kids stayed. From that apartment with Jill to the townhouse I now share with Chris when I'm not at my boy's house.

For some background info, my ex-husband and I moved back and forth for this first year of being split up so that our boys wouldn't have to bounce back and fourth. They live at the same house full time. Dom is there on Sunday, Monday, and Tuesdays. I'm there Thursday, Friday and Saturday, and we alternate the Wednesdays.

That's about to change over the next four weeks. Dom has his own house now, and Chris and I are about to settle arrangements for our own house. The shared house will be no more.

Even though Dom and I have been officially divorced for four months, haven't lived together for a year . . . now is when the separation becomes more final than ever.

Dividing up the "stuff" I can deal with. It will be a little sad for me to divide the home we put together. That's not what bothers me.

Now is when I'm REALLY going to start to feel like I'm getting to see half of my kids' lives. There will be no common place for school art work to go so that I can see what I missed out on when I was gone. The train table Dom and I got them for Christmas I may not see them play with again. Certain stuffed animals will no longer plague me when I go to change their sheets. I won't be washing and folding the same clothes of their anymore.

I hate that they are going to have this separate life that I'm not a part of or privy to. My ex-husband and I still get along fine, because that's what we've always done. He wouldn't shut me out of the boys' lives when they're with him, and I wouldn't do that to him either. But the day to day details get lost. That's what I'll be missing out on.

Over the past year I've gotten . . . accustomed? . . . to not seeing my boys every day. It hasn't gotten easier for me, and I'm not used to it. I feeling like someone's squeezing my throat and heart at the same time when I think about all that I'm missing with them. All that happens when you get to spend day in and day out with your kids. The closest I get to that now is once or twice a year when I go visit my parents and have my boys 10 whole days in a row.

It's something I don't ever want to get used to. I wish I had more time with them. I wish there was a way I could have them all the time without taking their Dad away from them. I wish I could wave a wand so there would be no injured prides or egos and everyone got along and liked one another and there was a giant house we could share and kids could see their parents every day and vice versa.

But I know that's not realistic. And what I just described smacks of hippie commune. And most people aren't down with that.

I have the hardest time reconciling how I want things to be with how they actually are. I get desperate with this want to see my kids every day, and I come up with desperate, unrealistic solutions. What I need to do is use that energy to make my peace with how things actually are. How they are going to be. Not how they could be if I had a magic wand.

I am excited to be moving into a house where there is room for Chris and his two kids and me and my two. Where he and I are moving in together at the same time. Deciding where to put furniture. Who gets what room. Home-ifying it together. Making it home for our families and each other. And for any new arrivals along the way.