For a second I could tell his life momentarily paused. He heard his name being called but didn’t know how to act. Turning pink, a grin emerged across his innocent face and his eyes widened with happiness. My boy had just been announced the coach’s player of the year for his football team.
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.
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?
Slowing the car down, I see his gold Ford Mondeo on my ex’s drive. I don’t say anything. The kids are pretty oblivious to it. My daughter holds my hand as I guide her from the car onto the pavement, whilst my son opens the boot, grabs his stuff and makes his way to the front door.
We knock. The ex answers. There is no sign of him. Somewhere in the house he’s hiding, like a coward. My kids bid farewell, I hug them and wish them a lovely day at school before making my way to work.
All I wanted was to recover my Sky Go password, having recently transferred my Apps onto my new phone. It wasn’t anything particularly significant but it was enough to bring tears to Soon-To-Be and huge frustration to me.
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.
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.
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.
BlendedDadUK 