Where have all the good men gone

I’m guest posting over at Woogsworld today about the trials and tribulations of internet dating. Go read it!

Some time

It’s been some time since I’ve written here but not without trying. There’s about five failed drafts before this and who knows if this too will be relegated to the bleugh pile.

What have you been up to?

I’ve been busy keeping our slightly reduced family running. There’s been some revelations for me, primarily realising how much I’d been holding my breath and dampening down my spirit. When did that start? What it just in the last year? Was it a slow and steady decline over the years after one too many cutting jibes from him over whatever my latest obsession? I’m not sure, but I do know that particularly in the last month or so I’ve felt my soul opening up again and my lungs filling with air they were unknowingly starved of.

Did I tell you he is seeing someone? I don’t think I did. Of course I had myriad questions about this development but, after the initial shock and hurt, know and accept I will never ever know the truth about how, when, why and everything in between. With a deep sense of irony she works for an agency responsible for the betterment of women. *fistpump for the sisterhood* They live together but there is no room for the boys to go and stay. Take from that what you will.

So my ‘little’ family and I trundle on and you know what, I adore it. I adore my boys, I adore our mess, I rejoice in my complete and pure rejection to dusting and feel completely unshackled to parent exactly how I want to parent. I can be the mum I always wanted to be and interestingly thought I was. And maybe I really was I just didn’t see it whereas now it is all stripped bare.

Mum is, of course, worried about me.  The last couple of weeks had seen some terse interactions reminiscent of years ago in our relationship and I wasn’t handling it particularly well. The light bulb eventually went off and I just quietly let her know that I was OK. That we were going to be OK. That everything was OK. I could see her shoulders visibly drop. Bless her.

Felix is going to change high schools for the final two years of school. We had a meeting there last night and it re-fired him somewhat about going there – I think the initial enthusiasm was waning so it was perfect timing to meet with one of the teachers and confirm what subjects he’s going to do. Felix into Year 11. Yikes.

I am – once more – attempting to lose some weight because I am – once more – pushing maximum density to a whole new high. I’m following the 5:2 plan and am almost three weeks into it. I’m only weighing myself monthly because we all know how obsessive I can get over such things. I’m keeping a food diary which is really effective. I was going to put it here but I don’t know, maybe I will, we shall see.

What else can I tell you? Why don’t you tell me your news.

A family realignment

A month ago Chef told me he didn’t think he loved me anymore. Subsequent events show he lied, he actually doesn’t love me anymore.

Within a month he has completely extricated himself from our lives. In a whole month he’s seen – or been in their presence would be a better description – the boys for about 2.5hrs.

He packed up his life in 10 green garbage bags.

He took the PlayStation and the xBox1.

We have been together for 23 years. He packed up all his belongings four days before our 17 year wedding anniversary.

And me? I’m fine. No really, I am fine. I’m shocked at how fine I am.

The boys’ world has been obliterated and we are navigating the new terrain together. It’s rocky and unknown but we shall be fine.

 

Onward.

 

Little

Do you remember being little?

I remember a yellow terry-towelling shorts jumpsuit.

Joy, my next door neighbour who I’d go and visit almost daily.

My walking Wendy doll I tied a ruler to so she’d stand up straight.

Mum gardening.

Tang.

The trailer of sand permanently parked on our front lawn that me and my brother would play in with matchbox cars.

I remember my Berenstain Bears treehouse.

The wooden two story dolls house.

I remember family gatherings being loud and always with the same food (roast lamb, veggies, fruit cake).

Lime cordial.

Tennis lessons where I was one of the select few taken into a separate room to practice our right and left.

Salads only ever consisting of iceberg lettuce, cucumber and tomato. Cubed cheese made it fancy. Those weird dressings where fake herbs were suspended in the bottle.

A hidey-hole in the garden behind the camellias.

My very own play area under our house where I’d play schools with Wendy Walker (standing up straight).

The wallpaper in my room of teeny tiny purple flowers.

My womble night-light.

 

Isn’t it funny we have these memories with vast blackness between them. Why can’t I remember losing teeth and my permanent teeth coming in. I mean, that’s a pretty big deal. But nup. Not a memory to jog.

I remember a lot of stuff through the prism of adulthood, layering meaning where perhaps it doesn’t belong so I like these snippets, just remembering them for what they were.

What do you recall?

Onward.

 

An itch

You know that itch you get where you need to be doing something but you don’t know what that something is or even where to begin to find the something?

I work a couple of days a week at the moment and spend the other days running around doing things like going to the chemist, filling in forms or pretending to clean the house. I do attempt to once a week meet up with friends or go out to have some lunch that does not consist of toast, cereal or yoghurt.

It’s school holidays at the moment so a LOT of energy is going in to pretending to care my boys are spending double digit hours on the computer or playing age-inappropriate games on the xbox.

But when they’re back at school the itch will become even more pronounced.

I don’t like the itch, it tends to make me feel like I’m floundering or worse, wasting time.

But here I itch. Do you?