It’s been a long time between posts and I’m thinking that it’s time to officially come out and say it.
Even though it’s been what?
Counting on fingers here…
HIT ME WITH A WET MACKEREL; 3 years and 10 months sans-spouse!?
You’ve got to be kidding me?
I guess time also flies when you’re squabbling and bending the ears of very expensive lawyers.
Well it wasn’t all squabbling, but without getting into the nitty gritty, my life-re-balancing act has definitely taken more time than I would have imagined. Then throw a full time job into the mix and everything tilts precariously sideways again.
<Standing up hand on heart> ‘My name is Suzy Mac and I’m a single parent.’
OK it’s not Alcoholics Anonymous, more like un-Married with Children anonymous.
Not that I’m complaining: no sireee.
I know how to count my blessings.
This work gig was a long time coming and as flexible as full time employment can get. And let’s face it, financial independence is nothing to be sneezed at (especially after all those legal retainers) for a spasmodically working single mother.
Also, thankfully, now I have She-Who-Used-To-Worship Pink’s daddy back as my wingman; so there’s a backup plan to school drop-offs and pickups versus truly hideous traffic.
I also get time off for good behaviour which is as necessary as it is bittersweet.
Our co-parenting arrangements meant that two nights out of each week Pinkster is at her dad’s place. As two of those nights, every fortnight, land on a weekend I can ‘go out’ on the town and reboot my social existence too.
But the first childless nights were awful.
It’s kind of Empty Nest Syndrome come 10-12 years too early’. I’ve never been separated from Pinkster before, bar one short hospital stay.
But that empty bed, without the tiny sleeping face to stroke and kiss, was pretty hard to take.
The first few weekends, Orange Dog and I were both despondent and lost, wandering around our home in deafening silence.
I had to develop coping strategies that involved a lot of exercise, which agreed with both the dog and my waistline.
It’s better now; I’m in a better place, having managed to poke a proverbial paperclip into my factory reset, I’m practically back to the store version of myself.
Just 15 years older (shhhhh).
Reboot sanity – tick
Reboot career – tick
Reboot physical self – tick: Thanks to this terrific weight-loss programme called ‘divorce’, great genes and a little botox.
Reboot social life – (post plethora of work Christmas parties) another tick
Reboot self – well that’s still a work in progress but certainly closer to the tick than the cross.
So henceforth, this blog will have more of a Perfectly Imperfect Single Parenting slant - now I’ve finally come out of the closet.