Toilet Talk

"Mummy, when did you and Daddy break up and live in different houses?"

Not the question I was expecting as B was sitting on the toilet. Let's be honest, not the question I was expecting at all, toilet or no toilet. 

I've been apart from his dad for over two years now. At the time, we were very careful to spell out (as clearly as you can to a 3 year old) what was happening, that mummy and daddy decided not to live together any more, but that we both love him more than anything in the whole wide world and it's not because of him that daddy wouldn't be living with us any more. I reminded him of that often in the first year, I searched for story books that might help explain the situation to him (not an easy search, I can tell you, but those I did find made me cry most of the time), I been there to give him extra hugs when he said goodbye to daddy each wednesday and each saturday. 

It's gotten a little easier in the months since, but a little is probably the best it has been. B still gets a bit teary saying goodbye to daddy (not to mention my own tears at saying goodbye to B every weekend, but that's for a different post).

It had already occurred to me recently that I haven't spoken with B about the split for a while. It's easy to forget, in the daily grind, that maybe he isn't sure what happened, or why not everyone's daddy lives in a different house. But I realised I couldn't go further with any explanation until he was old enough to understand relationships, even in their most basic form. And at the moment, he is still too young to get it. He knows mummy and daddy got married, and that we all used to live together, but he doesn't really understand what 'getting married' means, apart from the photos he's seen with mummy in a pretty dress and daddy in a kilt.

So it was a bit of a surprise to hear him use the phrase 'break up'. Maybe he is understanding a bit more now, he's obviously picked things up from the playground. But when I probed a bit more, "have you been thinking about why mummy and daddy aren't living together?", "what made you think about mummy and daddy breaking up?", I realised he really doesn't get it. And he has kind of forgotten why we weren't living together. This made me feel really guilty for not keeping up with the reminders and the books. I certainly have kept up the hugs. Scrap that, that makes it sound like hugs are a chore, hugs from B are the best thing ever!

So the next time he's on the loo, I know what we can talk about.

Linking up with Just Write over at The EO

Dear So and So...

Oof, I know it's not supposed to be good blogging etiquette to do too many Linky's in a row, but have been wanting to join in Dear So and So over at 3 Bedroom Bungalow for ages and usually leave it too late.


So forgive my blogging folly.













Dear Lady at Sainsbury's checkout - Part I
I know I look younger than my years, and I know that my new fringe and lack of makeup this morning may have made me look younger, but did I really not look old enough to buy a bottle of wine?! Surely one good thing about being ... *gasps* 37 ... is the fact I don't have to worry about being ID'd?? Apparently not it seems. And as for your colleague thinking I look "at least 18, if not 25"... gee, thanks.

Yours in bewilderment, Legitimately Allowed to Consume Alcohol

* * *

Dear Lady at Sainsbury's checkout - Part II
On the flip side of being ID'd for buying a bottle of wine, I should also thank you for thinking that I may not be old enough to buy said bottle!

Yours smugly, Way Older than you Think

* * *

Hey you, groups of high school kids walking past B and I
OPEN YOUR FLIPPIN' EYES! Every single Friday, at least one of you fails to see us coming towards you - even when you seemingly are looking right at us, WHAT IS THAT ABOUT?! - and trips over us. TAKE YOUR TEENAGE BLINKERS OFF!!

Yeh Cheers, Your fellow Pavement users

* * *

Dear Cold Virus
OK, time to beat it. And don't think you can slink your way into B on your way oot the door either.

Yours, Spaced out and Blocked up

* * *

Dear B
It's Friday teatime, i'm missing your wee face already. You'd think nearly 2 years on I'd be used to this arrangement. Apparently not. Can't wait to see you tomorrow wee yin!

Mummy xxx

* * *

Dear Bathroom
If I leave the Cif Power Cleaner out, any chance of giving yourself a clean? I got better things to do tonight, like catching up on Sky+ stuff. Much obliged.

Yours in blind hope.

* * *

Missing my little boy

I've been really missing my little boy this weekend. Half term week has meant that he's been away at his dad's for 3 nights last weekend, and then away 3 nights this weekend too. And I'm missing his wee face. And his smart little comments and funny questions. And his singing along to Adele songs and his 'robot' dancing (sometimes at the same time!).

I should be well used by now to him being at his dad's. Afterall, he's been staying with him for 1 or 2 nights every week since we separated. But I've never quite got used to it, feeling relieved to get a break from 24/7 single parenthood on the one hand, but still missing my wee boy like mad on the other.

So this week the extra nights apart from him have been hard. I've felt like i'm right back at the beginning, when this all started, 18 months ago. I hate him going away every weekend, because I hate what it means. I hate that he has to go between me and his dad's, I hate that he'll never wake up in the morning and see mummy and daddy together in the same place, that he'll either be with me or with daddy, never both of us.

I. don't. want. to. be. a. single. parent. This is not what I want for me, and it's definitely not what I want for B. And it sucks.

Am I being self-pitying? Yes. Do I deserve a little bit of indulgent self-pity occasionally? I reckon so.

Another Big Day

Big day today, B's First Day at School. Went something like this...

6.08am - B's wake-up call, "Mummy i need a pee". I was hoping he might get a bit longer lie given his big day ahead, but i guess there's too much going on in his little head.

9.14am - We have a week of 12.30pm-3pm days, as a transition week. I start to wish we had a morning transition week, as we're just hanging around as there's not much time to do anything else, waiting til lunchtime and to get ready for school.

10.29am - We make a mad dash to the sports shop at the local retail park as I realise I don't have a drawstring-type tote bag for his gym kit. We get stuck at temporary traffic lights on the way back and I start to panic i'll not have enough time to make his lunch before school. Of course there is plenty of time, but I do tend to panic abit when i'm feeling anxious...

11.33am - As B has his lunch, I'm expecting his dad/my ex at the door any minute to come with us to school. We agreed he'd be here at 11.30am.

11.59am - Still no sign of B's dad and I'm getting seriously peed off at yet another of his later arrivals to meet B.

12.01pm - B's dad finally turns up just as B is about to get his uniform on, which then upsets the plan as he forgets about getting dressed to play with daddy. I'm seething as I knew this would happen, hence why I'd asked him to come a bit earlier.

12.15pm - B's dressed and we're taking photos. Its funny how grown up he looks just by putting on a school uniform, even if the trousers need turned up and the jumper sleeves cover his hands! A proud moment, and I need to take a few long breaths to calm the nerves.

12.29pm - We arrive at the school and wait in the drizzle outside with the other first timers until the Head Teacher welcomes us and asks us to leave the little ones with them, letting us know we can come into the classrooms and take photos after their first day is over. I give B a kiss on the cheek and he's marches in quite happily with a teacher, giving us a wave as he goes. One of the teachers looks over at me and mouths "OK?" in a reassuring kind of way, which has the opposite effect and a few tears flow as B's dad and I walk back to the car, not quite believing I've just sent my little baby off to school.

Any sadness I feel is intensified as we drive home, as B's dad, my partner and husband for over 15 years, cannot find any words or comfort for me when I could have done with it the most, especially when he must have been feeling something similar as his little boy goes off to school. I wonder just how we could have become so distant, we are like strangers. I think of when Ben was born, and how I never could have imagined this warped reality 5 years on.

2.40pm Having re-applied some make-up to conceal the bleary eyes and red nose, I feel a bit calmer as we make our way back to pick up B. B is very happy to see us and shows us to his seat - he's at the purple table - and where his coat peg and tray are. We have a quick chat with his teacher, whom we hadn't met previously. She seems nice enough and I ask her what sort of thing they'll be doing with the wee ones in the next week. I look around, taking in as much as I can, still finding it hard to believe it's my little boy who's now a bona fide schoolboy.

4.15pm B is completely exhausted and after being quizzed by us as to what he's been doing on his first day ("can't remember/don't know" are key answers), he's been flat out on the couch for the past hour, watching a bit of telly and reading his beloved train magazine (although he has to give up on this as he's "just too tired to read"). Poor soul, I can't believe just how tired he is after 2 1/2 hours at school, but I guess its the nervous energy/excitement of the whole day that's taken its toll rather than any 'hard work'!

He says he's even too tired to eat his dinner, and just wants a sandwich and some grapes. Dinner as such is served, and he does perk up a bit while he's eating.

5.59pm I get him in the bath early in the hope I can get him in bed and asleep early too.

7.10pm He's got a bit of a second wind and is not winding down for bed. Typical! I am completely knackered now myself, and will be having an early night too, hopefully. We make sure his uniform is all neat and folded for school tomorrow, and sit on his bed to read a bedtime story, Charlie and Lola's "I am absolutely too small for school".
I quite agree, Lola.

8.01pm All quiet. Not the early night I thought he'd have, but no tears or tantrums so I'm happy. I hope he has a good night's sleep, cos we have to do it all again tomorrow...

8.53pm Time to pour myself well-earned glass of vino and watch some telly before bed. Night Night.