The Foca has just picked up our son for the weekend.
I agreed that he could take our boy to Spain for the May half term.
I've had a few days to think about it. My son told me two weeks ago his dad was planning a holiday (and I was oh when is he going to mention the idea to me??) then two nights ago, at 10 past midnight, I got a text telling me what days he wanted.
It upset me (not to mention the hour)
I want to take my son to Spain
I want to take my son abroad but but
"I should ask you for money," I said to the Foca this afternoon
"What do you mean?" he replied.
"Access costs me."
"How?" he asks.
"How? Babysitting him every night costs me nothing but when he goes away, what, I should just stay in and not go out? It costs money to go out. You want to take him a whole week?"
He ignored me: "Are your bags packed son?" "Do you need to take your football boots son?"
"Well?" I hadn't agreed by that point. "Are you not going to say anything?"
I can't deny my son a holiday, because I'm jealous. I can't!
Off he'll go with that other family of his
(see! Even how I write there's no happy acceptance!)
(I know, I know, acceptance is the key to the universe...)
Oh bloody hell. I'm going to go and have a beer. In a pub beer garden, the last of the sun on my face.
Then I'll come home I guess. Didn't make any plans with anyone tonight.
I'm in no mood for moaning anyway (except to you!!)and I've the march tomorrow to look forward to.
I thought I'd post my green eyed monster because time hasn't made it go away!
"It gets better" is not what I say to single mums.