A Blended Lockdown

Two weeks ago my kids returned to school. Hopefully for good this time. I say this because I want them to have no disruptions, particularly for my boy who is now in his last year at primary.

School is of course a little different for both my munchkins now. Society has got used to face masks, hand sanitiser and frowning upon people who get in your personal space, so what would have been an alien environment twelve months ago is pretty much accepted these days. How times have changed!

When lockdown started it was all a little bizarre. Daunting, exhausting, nerve-wracking and dare I say exciting (which I know sounds sick), we approached it with a sense of trepidation and intrigue. How were we going to cope?

 

“Life Is Hard Sometimes, Isn’t It Dad?”

They say nothing is more stressful than moving house. From the outset you’re worried whether house offers will be accepted, that buyer’s of your own house won’t pull out, that surveys come back with no nasty surprises and that solicitors do their jobs properly. My fiancée and I managed to overcome these hurdles with relative ease, finally finding out that we had exchanged contracts waiting for our suitcases to arrive in the luggage lounge of Zakynthos airport earlier this summer. Although I would have preferred not to have been calling around removal companies during my blended family holiday, the knowledge of moving house nevertheless stopped the holiday blues kicking in on our return to the UK, knowing we had only days to get packed and moved.

Healing A Broken Boy

Underneath the window on a hot July day sat my son. His mother had just beckoned him into the front room, taking him away from his toy cars. Sunlight poured into the room from outside, with dust dancing in its rays, putting my son underneath a spotlight. The scene was set. And then she told him.

Two Men Walk Into A Bar (only this ain’t funny)

Standing at the bar, I stared at the ales on offer but, unlike me, cared little for the drink I’d be consuming. Surrounding me were Sunday drinkers, fresh from watching the football or having had Sunday lunch, sharing jokes, sinking pints and creating an air of happiness on what was a glorious spring day.

I had other things on my mind. Earlier that morning, the ex sprung it on me that her partner was finally ready to meet me and could do so that evening. As I had been insisting on meeting this bloke for ages, I couldn’t turn down the offer. However, standing at the bar, pondering what to say to this man was an odd moment. I had already known in my mind what message I wanted to get across, but right there and then I had no idea how I’d greet this bloke. Do I shake his hand? Do I offer him a drink? What actually is etiquette when meeting the man who two years ago I found out was sleeping with my then wife, thus breaking up my family, meaning I see my kids only 50% of time in the week?

‘Honey, I Miss The Kids’

To celebrate the New Year, Soon-To-Be and I decided to have one last city break before properly saving for our wedding. After deliberating where to go for approximately 30 seconds, we decided to head to the city of Reykjavik in Iceland.

An Open Letter To My Children

Dear Kids,

Well, what a 2018 it’s been eh?! I can honestly say that it’s been one of the most interesting years of my entire life and sharing it with you two makes it perfect.

In fact, sharing any year with you guys is perfect.

I won’t lie, 2017 was pretty awful. Learning about your Mum’s affair, her leaving in the middle of the night out of the blue and Grandad’s battle with cancer, did leave me slightly battered at times, but with you two in my life those testing times were overcome with relative ease. When on the brink, nothing brings you back to earth like your son announcing he’s blocked the toilet or your daughter demanding I dance with her in the kitchen, before sulking when I don’t complete the splits.

I Know I’m Not What You Dreamed Of

If you were lucky enough to have a happy childhood, memories of Christmas in your formative years are likely to remain a lifetime. I have extremely vivid recollections of the festive period as a youngster and can easily recall the emotions of Christmas Day itself.

Firstly, there is the obvious excitement. The euphoria of being surrounded by loved ones, opening presents and overdosing on sweets used to leave me as high as a kite, a feeling no drug could ever replicate.

However, like any drug-induced high, Christmas also had a come down. At that stage I’d be a zombie. Head spinning and feeling nauseous, I’d often crawl off into a dark room and rock backwards and forwards, humming the carol silent night.

It dawned on me this weekend that planning a wedding provokes similar emotions. The pure delight of actually getting married fills my heart with glee. The pure reality of planning and paying for the special day fills my heart with dread, leaving the stomach a little queasy.

Do Not Fear When Love Actually Is Not All Around

It isn’t the festive season without watching at least one Christmas film. Last weekend I went up to Edinburgh to watch a favourite of mine and Soon-To-Be’s: Love Actually, accompanied with a live orchestra.

For those who haven’t seen it, Love Actually is a soppy, English classic, which follows the trials and tribulations of characters in love, or seeking love at Christmas time. It is a typical “chick-flick” but I unashamedly love it.

However, a certain storyline struck me this year. It is one that I have never paid much attention to before but suddenly, when viewing this modern classic for the hundredth time, I was hooked as I began to draw parallels with my own life.

Ain’t no Party like a Blended Dad Party

Last Sunday started with my little girl waking up tired, grumpy and excitable all rolled into one. She was shattered because she was up late, owing to the fact that all her family from down south had come up for a weekend visit. She was grumpy because she had had to share a bed with her big brother, who had woken her up with his snoring and farting. And finally she was excited, simply because it was the day of her 5th birthday party.

However, whatever emotional pick-and-mix there was floating around in her head, it felt like nothing compared to the emotional waves I endured that morning. There were elements of dread, excitement, intrigue and black humour, swirling around my mind like clothes in a tumble drier.

It was the first time my little girl was to have a party as a primary school attendee, thus meaning all of her little school friends were going to be there. It was also the first time that my folks, sisters, brother-in-laws and nieces were all able to attend her special day at the same time. And finally, it was the first time my ex had seen my extended family since she got up and left one night 18 months ago.

F*ck Christmas

F*ck Christmas.

I’m not normally a Scrooge. In actual fact, Christmas was always a time of year I absolutely loved. But it seems that my relationship with the festive season is going through a rocky period.