My kids have to shuffle back and forth between their dad’s and my house every Sunday afternoon as a consequence of their parents’ failure to stay together. Are they okay about it? No, not really. The range of emotions run from a cool, “it’s okay,” from my 15-year old to “I hate you, you’re the worst parent, ever” from my 10-year old. I can feel a little relief from what my older son says but, deep down, I know he has more rage then he lets on. My younger son’s reaction is more honest despite the hurt that it inflicts on me. There’s not much I can do except to take it. Sometimes, I waffle between a more sterner approach to just letting him have his tantrum. These episodes with my younger one always seem to happen when we are on a time crunch to get to one of his numerous commitments. It’s impossible to resolve in the span of time that we have between school, after school activities, dinner, homework, sleep. Life, especially, with kids is being aboard a racing train on a schedule to arrive at some future destination. Once, on board, you’ve committed to it’s confines, rules and structures with little wiggle room for improvisation. Sometimes, I wish there was a lever I can pull down to bring the train into a screeching halt so that I can have a moment outside this self-contained box and see what it’s like. What’s keeping me from pulling that lever is fear. It's similar to the fear of the unknown, of survival, of being left behind. I fear that I'm not capable of creating the life that I envision for myself and my family.