"Her" weekends suck

When we were getting ready this morning, Banana excitedly put on the dress Mommy had just bought for her. Because it has spaghetti straps, however, she had to put a t-shirt on under it for school. The t-shirt she happened to choose is one of the Hannas I bought for her recently, and it bummed me out that she was going to wear it. I didn't say anything about it, though, and swallowed the feelings instead. See, the real issue is that the shirt I bought for her is now going over to Mommy's and may or may not come back to my house any time soon... Except that the real issue is that this was the start of Mommy's weekend.

She'll go over there this afternoon and come back on Sunday afternoon. That's the arrangement at this point. She lives with me and spends every other weekend (or at least most of every other weekend with Mommy). This means I get adult time (unless I get a babysitter) every other weekend. I should be happy about this, right? Happy about the chance to catch up with friends or go out or get things done without worrying about what to do with an almost-five year-old every minute. Happy about it, right? Except that I'm not.

The reality is that I miss being Daddy when Banana isn't around. There's a certain emptiness. I can fill it, as I will this weekend, with some bar time with friends and painting her room--finally. But the reality of being a divorced, single parent is that I still feel incomplete when it is "her" weekend.