Recalibrating as a family post-separation can be unsettling sometimes.
I felt guilty yesterday morning, for example, when I left my ex and the kids at home and headed out for the day. It was like I was deserting them and should have hung around so we could spend some quality time together.
But spending quality time with my ex and the kids on a Sunday isn’t what I do any more. Sunday is HIS day with them. Saturday is MINE.
My ex arrives at 10am every Sunday morning to collect the kids. Yesterday he turned up with a drill.
I’d made a half-hearted attempt last week to assemble the Aldi ping pong table we got the youngest for Christmas … it being mid-February and all.
But it was totally beyond me in my depleted, pre-hospital visit state. Not to mention the fact I don’t own a drill and would have no idea how to operate one if I did. Add that to the list of feminist milestones I haven’t reached, alongside changing a tire, mowing the lawn and barbecuing.
So I asked my ex if he could put the ping pong table together.
Two hours after I departed, I got a message saying he’d given up after finally completing one half and would be back today to finish the other.
It would seem there is no such thing as a bargain ping pong table once you add four hours labour to the equation (and six vital hinges being missing).
So now I feel guilty about THAT as well.
Crazy, I know. But guilt IS one of my greatest skills.
I sometimes wonder how my ex feels about those Sundays we no longer spend together. Do they feel strange for him as well?
Yesterday, I sat on the back doorstep chatting amiably to him for a few minutes as he nutted and bolted.
It felt oddly comfortable, as long as I stayed in the moment and didn’t let my mind stray to the past.
I see soooooo many ugly divorces being played out around me. They look absolutely HORRIBLE. I’m happier to stay in the moment and have those comfortable chats, rather than lose my shite and take the messier path.
It’s much gentler on my soul.
Song of the day: The Rocky Horror Picture Show “Time Warp”