I'm Going To Say It! I HATE Sharing My Kids!

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July 25, 2015 - Updated December 02, 2016

My new husband is wonderful.  He makes Stanley look like a monkey in a relationship.  

The new marriage is going swimmingly, if I do say so myself, and yes, he is happy too.  He flew back to his previous life last week for a few days to work in the office and to visit with his kids.  He said he couldn't wait to come back because everybody seemed so 'blah' about their lives and it was killing his happy buzz.  (That was for anybody out there who thinks I might be just a taker in the relationship, I'm a giver actually.  We are both givers.  Giver + Giver =  2 happy people).

But, I hate, hate, hate the kids going back and forth.

It is hard on them.  I know how hard it is, I did it for 4.5 years.  

See The Burden of the Bag for my experience.

My kids are doing the weekly divorced kids shuffle and are forgetting crap left and right and it isn't even school time yet.  This week they were at my place and JB didn't have her headphones (HORRORS) and Merlot didn't have her summer reading. Okay, I get it, Jumping Bean needs 2 sets of headphones but I am not buying those books again.  All of them are complaining of sleep issues; sleeping well when you sleep in different beds is hard.  I know.  I hope they adjust to it soon.  But, I never did and I am grown and could use a sleep-aid.  

 

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And for all of you that tell yourselves that kids are resilient, think again.

 People are resilient.  Kids are just people and are no more resilient than adults are.  As a matter of fact, one could say they are less resilient, because they have fewer high functioning coping skills because they haven't had to learn them yet.   Plus, in addition to a lack of sleep-aids, they also can't drink wine or margaritas not to mention the difficulty they have in getting their hands on nerve pills.    To get through my divorce and house shuffle, my primary coping mechanisms were:  Xanax, Zoloft, Ambien, friends to cry on, a blog to process, all washed down with a fermented grape or alcoholic beverage.

This was how I felt inside for 4 years...  and still when I drop them off.

 

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Stanley did give me permission to see the kids during his weeks when he is at work.  I can go pick them up and bring them here or take them out when he is doing his 8 hour work day.  Week before last when he had them, I picked the girls up to go with me to the vet (because they love it) on Monday, got them all for lunch on Tuesday, and had my scheduled mid-week dinner on Wednesday.  I use the shit out of the mid-week dinner.  I pick them up at about 2 and drop them off at about 8 p.m.

Stanley picks them up at 5:30 and drops them off 45 min later.  

Al and I have been using his mid-week dinner for some alone time and I'm telling you it has to be a quickie.

I dropped them off last night and felt like they were I was dropping off some orphans when they got out of the car.  Pathetic.   

I felt like a terrible mother and reamed myself out all the way home about my divorce.  

 

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When does this crap ever end?

 BTW, Al doesn't worry about his kids nearly this much.  He is all, "They'll be fine!"  But he is an optimist.

As a pessimist, I am sure deep in my heart they will be pole dancers and crack heads.

He said to me, "At what point will you forgive yourself?"

I said, "I guess when I see them grow up to be happy and able to form stable emotional attachments."

God.  What a goal.  Poor kids.

Please nobody tell me in comments that I am insane or pathetic or brought it on myself.  

I already know.

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