The speaker is a child of separated parents, waiting for visits that keep falling through. Every other Friday should be something to celebrate, but the adults around them are always too busy, and the poem shows how hope slowly turns into hurt. Mama's reassurances and the broken promises of the absent parent blur together, and the speaker admits choosing to believe lies because they at least offer a reason to hope.
The most painful moments are small ones. The phrase "your weekend" suggests the speaker feels like a guest in someone else's time, not a child who belongs there. Making excuses for the missed calls shows how badly the speaker wanted acceptance. When the answer finally comes, it crushes them, and they simply accept it.
The mood is sad and quietly bitter, but it ends on strength. Crying less isn't a sign that things got better, the speaker says. It's a sign they grew tougher.