This …

My youngest man skipped out of preschool this morning and proudly handed me a picture he’d drawn.

“Here mum, I made this for you,” he told me.

“Awww, thanks my lovely boy,” I said back, glancing briefly at it.

“It’s of you mummy.”

“Is it darling,” I answered looking more closely at his art work. “Well, look at me. You did a fab job.”

“Do you like it mum?” he asked.

“Of course I do. I love it.”

“Know what you’re doing?” he asked me kind of coyly.

“It looks like I’m in a box. Is that what I’m doing?”

What he said next caught me completely off guard.

“No, mummy. I’ve drawn you in your own house.”

*pauses for dramatic effect*

Those of you who know my personal situation with regards my home will get how my wee boy’s picture affected me.

Cue the sobs.

Kids, eh?

I didn’t think I was quite so hippy.

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Putting it out there …

For the past couple of weeks I’ve been feeling a strange mix of emotions.

Highs and lows.

Ups and downs.

But, then I hear filing for divorce does that to a person.

The worst feeling I have, besides sadness for my children, is that of unbelievable failure.

Because I hate to fail at anything.

Which was probably part of the problem.  My whole Virgo/perfectionist/ “failure is not an option” attitude needs a bitch slapping, I think.  I must really try to do better at recognising when something isn’t good for me and let it the fuck go rather than hanging on to it with a death grip.

A friend told me not to look at my divorce as a failure because I didn’t fail.  I gave him and us a good portion of my life and I have three gorgeous boys to show for it.

So, yes … I’ve joined the likes of Russell & Katy, Seal & Heidi, Kim & What’s His Face and officially filed for divorce post-Christmas.  Maybe it’s something to do with all that turkey and sherry and Christmas cake.

Or, it could be that it’s a time of year when you’re bombarded with messages of love and happiness.  Messages that can intensify all that you feel is missing in your own life.  Especially after you open a present on Christmas morning to find you’ve been given a mixer.

Now, what was I saying about letting it go?