I have tried to decide if he is a self-centred arsehole, or a lazy arsehole. I have finally decided that he is in fact, a complete arsehole.
Not that he wasn’t an arsehole in the 13 years we were together. He was. But I found excuses for him then. I looked after him.
For some reason he still seems to expect that his arseholdom should be my problem.
I could talk about a lot of things. A LOT of things. But I won’t. Its just the dridge and drudge of human beings and separation. I was, myself, no sweet angel.
But I was good. And I was strong. And I was supportive.
So, I’m going to stay current. Like, today current.
My 5 year old has no shoes for school tomorrow. Because they are still in his fathers car. Again. His father returned him to me with no shoes. Again. Based on history, I’m lucky he remembered to return the child. I know some days that he’s had the kids he’s forgotten to feed them. The issue is that I have been phoning him and texting him all day to return the shoes. He eventually EVENTUALLY texted that he’d be right over. Its 9pm. Still no shoes. Can’t get him by phone. Can’t get him by text.
Second verse – same as the first.
My tween has no toothbrush. Because its still at her fathers flat. Again. Her father returned her to me with no toothbrush. Again. I do diligently pack separate bags for all my children every fortnight, with everything they need. Even a laundry bag each. Everything that comes back just comes back in a stack. He even turned up last week with a bag of their clothes from his house. Unwashed, of course.
Third verse – not any worse.
My daughter has no glasses. Because they still at her fathers flat. Again. Three months ago, the same thing happened. Unfortunately, glasses cost $300 to $ 500 a pair. So, we’re looking at around $100 a month. He reckons they’re not there. Again. Disappeared into the ether. Must be my fault obviously.
So, we stayed home and didn’t shoot out to the supermarket this afternoon. Cos he said he’d be right over. As I say, its 9pm. No shoes. No toothbrush. No glasses. No fruit. No milk.
So, am I disappointed? No. If he was an arsehole when we were together, why should he behave any differently now we’re separated.
I did for a while hold on to some hope that he may co-parent to a reasonable degree. Time and experience have ended that illusion. It took nearly a year for him to look after one child once a week. It took half that time again for him to take all three overnight every second weekend (instead of one once a week, of course).
So I’m left with… angry, really. I got some anger. Here it is. Spewed out of my head and onto the page. No moral to the story. Feel free to carry this vibe with you when you exit, or dump it at the door.