Usually we are away at this time of every-other-weekend. We go down to see J's son, T-boy, whose mother took him 200 miles away without even talking about it. It's an Ex thing, I think. I have always thought the children's needs come first, but the more I talk to a variety of people who have ex-wives and children, the more I realise that often it is the parental need for revenge and to cause pain that is the driving factor. Or the need to run home to mummy.
Anyway, we are home. AC is on the sofa, chilling with his choice of tv. I'm on here in my jama's doing work. Obviously now *right* this second, but I have been and I will be. T-boy has gone to grandmas anyway, which prevents his mother having to take care of him this weekend. J is in bed, and will be up soon.
There's a lot I want to say, and I haven't and I can't. I've had 7 years of dealing with ex's, and I'm tired. I won't give up though. Over the next few weeks I'm going to be writing an account of BG of how her father and I met, what happened, and how we got together, and what our lives were like, so that she has it as a true tale of how things happened. That way, even if I don't get to speak with her until she's an adult, the account is there and cannot be denied. It's our story, and it should be told to his daughter. My son knows what happened (except for the whole story of why his father left - he was a paranoid alcoholic with depression problems who firmly believed I was having an affair - with a bloke in London - when I was at home all day with a 2 year old!).
I'm just unsettled that's all. I'll get over it.