What happened there, then?

What makes your darling little angel turn into a raging, stubborn ogre for the whole day? Answers on a postcard, please...

Image Credit - Calvin & Hobbes

B's turning point this morning was, well, I don't really know, and I'm sure he doesn't know either. It just kind of happened all of a sudden. From sitting on my bed, bopping to Jessie J on the radio while I dry my hair, to a wide-eyed, pout-lipped, foot-stomping uncontrollable nightmare. In one fell swoop.




How did that happen, then? I must have looked away for a second.

The outcome?
A bathroom floor swimming in soapy water.

A bedroom door creaking in its well-slammed hinges.

 

A little boy with a half-washed face and unwashed anything else this morning. Who eventually gave in and ate a tiny half a carrot slice with his dinner (yeah, victory!) before he got his yoghurt. And who'll not be seeing his scooter or his knights' castle for the next week or so.

A very stressed out, worn out mummy who for once, let it get to her and had to sit in the car once the little ogre was in school and have a bit of a weep. Who felt very sorry for herself for a while, and wished she didn't have to deal with this on her own all the time. And who wishes there was a bottle of wine chilling in the fridge right now.

But who knows her little angel will show himself again tomorrow.

Just as well.

A week of two halves

So half-term is over and it's back to 'normality' tomorrow.

It's been a half-term of two halves for me. The first half meant I actually got to spend some time with B which didn't involve nagging him to get out the door at 8.30am for school, which I sometimes think is all I do! We got to lounge about in the house, playing silly games, rolling about on my bed, playing with his favourite cuddly toy cats. We went out and met a friend for a cuppa/juice and cake, went to the park, went out on his bike - hell, we even got to go to the beach (and it wasn't too cold...).

The second half of the week was very different. B went to his dad's and I was left scrabbling about trying desperately to fill the time so I didn't notice how empty the house feels without B there.

Apart from working thursday and my evening class on Wednesday, my attempts to busy myself failed somewhat, partly due to no-one being able 'to come out and play'. I regularly struggle with this in itself, going from resenting my friends for being too busy, to chastising myself for thinking like that, back to wondering why everyone has forgotten about me... these are in the gloomiest moments when I am on my own. This week, this happened on Thursday evening. A few glasses of wine probably didn't help, neither did catching up on Sky+ ER re-runs - god, I didn't remember so many episodes being so depressing!

At least I did get to speak to my wee boy every night via the mystical powers of t'internet/webcam, which made me smile for a few minutes.

And so the 4 'sleeps' without B plodded on, and I forced myself to go out on Saturday, to see the lovely George Clooney in The Descendants. So I guess it's not all bad!

And then to today, when I got my wee boy back again, along with a great big kiss.

Back to the school run tomorrow, earlier starts, rushed mornings, running to beat the school bell... my relief at getting back to normal again probably won't last too long when we're still floundering about at 8.37am tomorrow morning!

And I don't think B has got a proper grip on the 'permanence' of school yet, either. He asked me once again today, why he has to go back to school, cos he's "done school now". Yeah, ask me again when you're 17.

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.

Freaky Fridays

I don't particularly like the last day of the 'working' week. I know that probably sounds strange, given that it signals the start of the weekend, an' all that.

But it's not because I don't have a 'working week' at the moment.

I'm not happy with Fridays because it messes with my 'emotional stability', as Fridays are when B goes to stay at his dad's for some or all of the weekend. We've been doing the 'transfer' every Friday for well over a year now but it doesn't really get any easier. We meet in the train station - always a good bet with B, anything to do with trains and he's happy - , hand over his bag, pass on any relevant information for the weekend, steal as many last minute kisses and hugs as I can from B, and then watch him skip away, deliriously happy to be going to his dad's.

And then the emotional turmoil begins. When he skips off, I'm left standing in the middle of the station concourse and for a few moments, it makes me feel like someone's just stolen him from me and i'm never going to see him again. Dramatic that may sound, it's a fairly fleeting feeling fortunately, but it is there.

At the same time, I feel relieved at having some time to myself, even if its just to sit and do nowt for a while - and get a bit of a lie in. [Cos nobody can really describe the constant physical exhaustion day in, day out, at just doing the normal routine stuff as a single parent].But of course, along with the relief, the guilt comes a-calling, guilt that I would feel pleased to be spending ANY time away from my wee boy.

The worst thing about Friday though, is going home after the 'drop-off'. I hate going home on a Friday without B there, even though he's back causing havoc the next day. I hate the emptiness of the house, but I guess its more about WHY he's not there which is why I hate it. However, I'm very lucky to have some very lovely friends who often accompany me for a little drink or two, and a few moans at times, to save me from having to make that difficult return journey too early.

So it's Friday evening, and I've just gone through the whole thing for the day. Was lucky enough to meet up with a couple of friends earlier for a glass of vino (or two). Lookin' forward to a lie in tomorrow and staying up tonight watching naff on the TV. But I also will be giving B a great big squeeeezy cuddle (his favourite kind!) when I see him again.


And then it all happens again next Friday!