Mommies Paradise

Er. It has been a long time since my last post. Hopefully, I am back in swing on this thing.

What with one thing and another, the changing of life’s gears, my constant feeling of being completely overwhelmed by a shift in the force, and the bouts of absolute hysteria regarding the irony of this and this, I have simply not been in the mood to write.

As I look back on that initial post regarding Leslie Bennetts’ book (if I ever imagined I was a blip on her radar I would also imagine that she is cackling at me right now), I notice several sections of text that foreshadow change for me and my family. I won’t go into the silly details but suffice it to say this divorce is not a shock nor is it an unwelcome change. I do recognize that any break-up is easier when children are not involved. The details of responsibility become more important and obvious now and I wonder if I had made them more important before, we wouldn’t be doing this. But then again maybe we would have done it earlier.

Automatically, the sole caretaker of this child is assumed. Suddenly it is me and That Baby, alone. Please don’t misunderstand me. I wouldn’t have it any other way. Actually, it feels like it has been this way for a while.

What I find odd is that it was just assumed that I would stay with the child and Mr. Daddy would leave and be untethered. Free to be alone to deal with this break-up on his own terms. Free to meet with friends at will to eat, drink and be merry, or whatever. Free to gather his senses and plan the future without the constant demands of a child to tend to. Free of the mood swings this immediate split brings out in this child who simply does not understand. Free of the daily heartbreak that comes from hearing this child ask questions that I have answered before but which simply can not be answered to his justification. Because, well, he is three.

And it was also assumed that we would wait until Mr. Daddy got settled before visitation commenced, with little or no communication, regardless of the confusion That Baby experienced for that initial week or so. Odd.

Odd that later I would end up getting haggish in order to drive home the silly idea that a father should not be a babysitter but rather a caretaker no matter how far removed. Or that I would also have to communicate that the whole notion that he needs to “get away” can pretty much suck it since I haven’t been able to “get away” for three and a half years and now I REALLY can’t “get away.” Ever. Even to the grocery store. My job is 24/7 whether or not anyone actually values my work.

But now we have what looks like a good plan for our long-term future and, in the short term, I will get this weekend off while That Baby spends some much needed time with his father and half sister.

What, oh, what will I do with my free time? Hmm. Spend some time with me.

This all reminded me of a post on Feministe a while back that I found interesting. I was considering writing a post about it here, but why create the wheel. It has already been done. Go read it.

Enjoy your Independence Day. That Baby and I will enjoy ours!