For Want Of A Scooter

I wrote this post about getting a divorce.

It was strange and cryptic and vague, and sounded waffly. It was not specific. I was trying to put emotional things in there without being emotional or specific (hint - it doesn't work!). I promised a more concrete and relatable pst the next day.

Well, here it is, three days later.

I tried to write something. I did. I even wrote half of something, but I was unable to finish it. So I saved the draft, and walked away.

Just in case you were worried, this is not the concrete post I mentioned. I know it is also hard to read, so far. I apologize. It will develop into something, I promise.

It's just hard to write about somethings. Especially when people want details and / or might judge you and / or another person. Especially when tension runs high and you don't want to offend anyone. Not just to avoid conflict, but because you really, honestly do not want to hurt anyone's feelings. But as things are so tense, there's a high probability that that will happen, because things can be taken more personally.

Take this Friday. For example.

I always pick Andy up from school. Kindergarten is half day, and he gets picked up at 11:15 every single day. Even when the boys go to Steve's that afternoon, I pick him up and spend time with him until the older kids get home.

Friday I realized I had to go to the vet to pick up a refill for one of the kabillion medications our pets are on. On the way home, Andy started talking about how his dad should pick him up from school sometimes. "Wouldn't it be good if you picked me up and took me right to his house?" he said.

Now, this had actually been MY original plan, but because of work schedules (I don't have one and Steve does) we've been doing it this other way. But I told Andy I thought that was a good idea, and that they should try it sometime. And then I asked if he missed his dad.

Mind you, I was looking for a yes. I'm not playing my kids against their father. Since Andy brought it up, I thought I'd help him put any emotions he was feeling into words.

So we talked about it a little bit, and it turned out that, yes, Andy missed his dad, but he also missed his scooter, which was at his dad's house. And it would be really cool if he could just go there so he could ride his scooter all afternoon.

I told him I understood, and that it was OK to miss his dad and the scooter, but that this was the time we would have lunch together, so we'd have to find something else to do.

And Andy began to cry. Not just fake sobbing, but actual tears and rubbing his eyes.

I didn't even think about it, but just then I realized we were passing the street Steve's house is on. So I turned and drove over there. "We'll get the scooter and take it home, OK?" I asked.

Steve was there, and was happy to let Andy take the scooter. Or, he said, Andy could just stay there for the afternoon.

Andy was thrilled. Yes yes yes! He jumped up and down and ran around like he'd been told he was having a party.

So, I said OK, kissed Andy goodbye, and left.

And in the car I cried and cried.

I cried because Andy had been crying and having a hard time. I cried because I know he really missed his dad. I cried because I was hurt that the boys think their dad is so much fun while I am the boring lady who makes everyone clean and do homework and practice piano.

At no point did I actually think Andy had chosen his dad over me. I would never blame him for feeling the way that he did. He wasn't trying to hurt anyone. He's five. He was just being very honest about what he was thinking.

But still. It hurts. He didn't do it on purpose. Which is what I don't want to do with this blog.