You know how I mentioned yesterday that I’m going on a holiday with my kids.
Well, I feel guilty about it, because it’s completely irresponsible of me.
I can’t afford it, but …
Well, it’s a long story that goes way back to February, when I got a call from my ex asking if he could take the kids to Italy in September.
“Oooooh,” I said. “I’ve always wanted to go to Italy! Can I come too?”
He thought that was an awesome idea … really, he did.
Not me actually going WITH him. That would be awkward.
But, I thought, since he was paying the kids’ airfares, maybe I could take them over there for a holiday with me first, then hand them over for a holiday with him (and, sigh, SSF).
That was the bit he thought was fabulous, the idea of the kids getting an even longer sojourn in Italy. He adores those kids.
But I had to let him know within 24 hours if I was going too because a flight deal was ending.
So I recklessly asked him to buy me a ticket to Rome (and I’d pay him back … eventually … still a few hundred dollars to go).
What my ex hadn’t factored was that he’d be the meat in the sandwich as his paramour and ex wife fought – via him – over which bits of Italy we wanted.
There was some initial argy-bargy over Pompeii, which I eventually won because there are actual people ruins in Pompeii. Not skeletons, actual people!
Conversely, I am not allowed anywhere near The Colosseum with the kids because he and SSF are going on a big tour of it en famille.
I am very excited about the trip, but I also feel a bit sick about it, because while it sounds like a cheap holiday in theory because the kids’ airfares are paid, the reality is that all their hotel rooms and food and sightseeing are not.
There’s also the matter of my renovation happening while I’m gone. And my bank balance hovering close to zero.
But I keep telling myself you only live once.
And I can’t wait to explore Italy with my gorgeous girls.
I just have to get through the logistical horrors of this week first.
And the fact DD left last night for Tokyo – on a business trip – after getting the driver to pull up outside my house to give me a farewell hug.
So I won’t see him FOREVER.
But I won’t say “poor me”, because I’m so very, very lucky.
Any Italy tips for me? Other than keeping an eye out for pickpockets?
Song of the day: Des’ree “I’m kissing you”