Enough of these delicate flights of fantasy, these gentle sojourns into the land of poetry and imagination. I am happy, yes; but the time for exclaiming over it, with song and dance and crashing cymbal, has passed. As the title says--reality is once again mine. It has returned to me, in the form of an ex-husband.
What a complete whinge. Does the man have nothing better to do, than bitch about me? Yes. Yes, I divorced him, and he's pissed off. I get that. And yes, I don't raise the kids exactly as he would, and it makes him cross; which is easily half the reason we got divorced in the first place, while we're on the subject. And, indeed, I had the unmitigated gall to move my new guy into my ex-husband's house (mine too, we bought it together, I haven't stolen it) but since he's in no position to pay ANYTHING towards keeping this roof over his children's heads, I rather think he has no right to complain about *anything* I do in a house I'm paying for without any financial support from him.
He might not like my current bloke, but I'm thinking it's all to the good if ONE of the adults in daily contact with my babies can actually hold down a fucking job, no? Yes? YES.
I do not excuse myself, you understand. I don't have a job either, and I'm not even pretending to look for one. But then, I don't have to--I have a significant other, who's perfectly happy to let me stay at home and raise my kids, while he goes out and earns our daily bread. You know. The little woman, staying at home, looking after the house and kiddlies, while the big brave man travels into the real world, and puts food on the table. (Food which, incidentally, I cook... that's amazing in and of itself.) We're a pretty little picture of domestic bliss, straight out of the 50's: Mom, Dad, one son, one daughter, the perfect imitation of the traditional nuclear family.
Except Mom and (Step)dad aren't married, the kids aren't his, and I have a griping, whining, complaining, obnoxious ex trying desperately to call the shots, in every way he possibly can.
My ex is a real piece of work, he really is. He wants to tell me how to look after the kids. He wants to give me a stern talking-to when I don't answer his texts in a timely fashion. He admits, in his very last blog entry, that Newcastle is well within easy driving distance for casual sex with some tasty foreign cyber-slut; but if I try to move his kids all 15 miles into the city, he'll fight to keep them in this podunk coal-mining town in the middle of bumfuck nowhere, where half the residents are trying to get the FUCK outta Dodge right now, and the other half are sitting around picking their noses going , no, let's never leave it and only speak to our blood relatives and why don't we join the BNP as well, and university what's that? is it not good enough to work down the pit all our lives, or maybe get some call-centre work, or better yet pop out another 15 kids and live off the State, and *if* I succeed in thwarting his poorly conceived and repressive plans and I manage to move my kids out of this hive of under-educated, non-achieving, inbred, dole-scrounging chav-tastic pissheads, my ex will refuse to undertake the half an hour drive to Newcastle or the surrounding areas, to see his children.
Do you know what. Do you know what. Sometimes, there's only one thing to say.
Oh FUCK YOU, you ignorant cunt.
He makes me want to move the babies into Newcastle just to get them away from him and his unreasoned, negative, short-sighted attitude.
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the counter argument would be go fuck yourself you self-absorbed stuck up deluded NASTY cunt!
Perhaps you should take your supposedly intelligent self an re-read my last entry... I make no mention of driving to Newcastle. Travel, is a different thing... ie Metro services perhaps? And even then, my 'tasty foreign cyber-slut' is perfectly capable of travelling my way.
Nor is seeing her, should things go that route, likely to be a daily event... unlike seeing, the kids for example? We even had a trial run, albeit in reverse... me finishing work at Gateshead and popping in to see them afterwards. I left between 5 and 5.30 and what time did I reach the house? Sometime comfortably after 6?
What it boils down to basically is you want to be where the action is... not because it benefits the kids, but because it benefits YOU and you alone.
Hell, left to your own devices you can barely get her ready for nursery on time DESPITE now having someone living with you full time and STILL whinge at me to come and help. The ONE AND ONLY day responsibility fell on you to pick her up from nursery you were half an hour late and apparently wanted me to do something about it? Me, being 40 minutes' drive away and also being called by the nursery concerned that Naomi was still there.
But then you're good at blagging your way through things these days. Excuses, aportioning blame.
I had a job and because I fucked up a year ago I lost it. Okay, so I'll get another one... oh wait, I did. I didn't like it but I could've stuck it out for a while if necessary. But I'll tell you what, when you get a full-time job that eats into the free time you might use to see the kids, then you can complain.
And when I have responsibility for them while you're working and my fuckups mean you're being called by their school, THEN you can complain.
And let's also touch upon your financial situation. Despite being out of work, CSA is up to date except for a couple of weeks? no? I did after all pay the water bill that you forgot to change over when you kicked me out?
As far as the disposition of the house goes... well, I thought we had an informal understanding on that one, but seeing as you're known to change your mind at a whim when it suits your desires I guess we'll just have to see about that one.
I'm sure the image of a content 50's style family appeals and it must really bug you that I'm not the kind of dad that just fucks off and does everything possible to avoid seeing his kids.
I care and I try... and I will acknowledge you try as well... but all too often it seems like you're very, very quick to pass the buck on to someone else to sort out the dilemma. Better or worse, I'm in it by myself thankyou and while my folks lend a hand where possible, it benefits you as much as me. They're only going to do a nursery run for instance if I can't... sparing you from it.
So if you really want to haul ass up to Newcastle... live a nice upmarket cosmopolitan lifestyle with you, Doug and the kids then I'd say go for it, were it not for the merest POSSIBILITY that it will impact the kids negatively.
You whine that you have no support network... your support network now is as good as its ever been since I'm still on your doorstep. So go on, fuck off to Newcastle and it can be just you and Doug.
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