You know how 10 minutes is never enough at parent-teacher interviews?
Well I just got three whole hours!
Remember how the youngest’s teacher came to watch her compete at the State Skipping Championships? Well, it meant we had LOTS of time to chitter chat.
Mrs C loves my little pook-a-looka. She said she’s going to miss her heaps when she goes to high school. The youngest and her two besties lie on beanbags after school chatting to their teacher long after the final bell rings. She said they are that cliched joy to teach and always listen closely when she offers them instruction.
Oh, and her maths is “improving”!
But the most awesome thing she said was that you can’t tell her parents have separated.
Mrs C reckons she usually pick it, but the youngest doesn’t show the usual signs.
She also said my ex and I were the most well-adjusted separated couple she’d ever come across.
She was initially impressed by our amicability at parent-teacher interviews in March and remarked upon it then. Seeing us at the skipping comp together confirmed it.
I told her I’ve decided life is too short to be wasted on bitterness and it’s much better for the kids if we got along.
I noted we’d always been good friends and it was a hard habit to shake after 23 years together.
(Though I think we’ll drift further and further apart as the years go by and the glue of young kids no longer sticks us together.)
We rubbed along pretty well at the skipping comp. We sat together. I got him a cup of tea. He got me a sausage sanger. He even fetched his jacket from his car when I said I was cold.
It was vaguely weird to spend the day in my ex’s hoodie.
Actually, a bit more concretely weird than that.
But it was also very, very cold in that hall, so I kept it on.
My ex mentioned my Kitty Flanagan disaster, which threw me a bit. I’d forgotten he’s a Facebook lurker (he never posts or likes … that I’ve noticed) and we’re still friends on it.
I wonder how it feels to see my posts? I never share pashing pics or anything, but it would still be a bit strange. I’m not sure how I’d handle seeing his posts, though I’m moving closer and closer towards indifference.
Anyways, I should feel like a very Smug Separated after my long chat with Mrs C, but I’m oddly unsettled about being a hen’s toothy only gay in the village.
Does it make me a weak, pathetic traitor to the Spurned Ex-Wives Club to have an amicable relationship my ex?
Is the “done thing” to plot endless ways to make his existence a living hell? Am I a fool to have “let him get away with it” so easily?
I’ve realised I don’t need to see him publicly flogged to feel vindicated. I don’t even wish Karma to pay him a bitchy visit any more. I’ve moved on.
Also, my kids would hate to see him laid low, they adore him. His happiness and stability is key to theirs.
But back to Mrs C … it was so nice of her to sit on those cold, hard metal bleachers with me and natter and applaud. I’m very grateful my kiddo is in such good hands each day.
PS I know there are blog followers out there who are amicable with their exes. Please send me another little message to remind me I’m not alone …
Song of the day: Erasure “Ship of Fools” (one of my favourite ’80s bands)