Tuesday, June 13, 2017

School holidays - kids off to the ex




School holidays are looming and I always dread these events.  The children hang around the house with long faces and complain about having nothing to do. Eventually I reach the end of my tether and I send them to their father, who is always threatening to have full custody.

But when presented with a chance to have the fruit of his loins for more than a weekend he suddenly changes his mind and has a million excuses why it would not be convenient. 

Of course his new wife Rieta  who always professes to be so fond of the children would rather be drawn and quatered than have to actually live with them. After a week her polite facade begins to crumble.

Rieta always reminds me of those overbred neurotic horses that startle at the slightest movement.  She seems to be looking down her narrow nose at everyone and everything.  Especially me.

It seems that Neville has definitely chosen someone who is the exact opposite of me in every sense. I'm loud, red haired, curvaceous, witty, effervescent and sociable.

Frieda is thin to the point of emaciated, her fine blonde hair is long and whispy and if you blink you might miss her walking by. She's quiet and introverted and spends hours going through health magazines, and checking fitness apps on her phone.

Despite her meek and mellow appearance she has an inner dominatrix which comes out when she does dog training. She barks commands at the neighbourhood dogs and it seems their owners quiver.

Rieta and I are perfectly civilised to each other's faces - but I cannot ever see that we will become friends. It's that small issue of her shagging my husband while I was still married to him. I know I should not be so petty. In fact in the grand scheme of things she did me a favour. I managed to see what a snivelling little twat my ex was .. er ... is.

Through the lens of my emancipation every irritating habit he has is magnified. I hope dear Rieta still loves him in a year or two when he pees with the bathroom door open or farts under the duvet and fluffs it so the odour disperses.

But as a responsible parent it is my duty to send the children to visit their father and his new wife.I can rest assured that they will be well fed - erm - well nourished.

Rieta knows everything about nutrition, macrobiotics, microbiotics, organic food, vitamins, nutrients and of course the dreaded CALORIES. Greg comes home after a weekend at his father and heads straight to the nearest Steers fast food for a binge fest. 

I do try and limit fast food but he looks at me with a deeply pained expression and say: “I had a broccoli smoothie for dinner ... dinner MOM!” . My children have the appetites of raging teenager.

So Neville agrees to have the kids for a week. I can tell I've put a spanner in the works because it's the time he loves to go golfing at a snazzy little seaside resort.  I think its timed brilliantly - the kids get to go to the beach and I can have some ME time.

No doubt every little thing the kids do will be hugely embarrassing to Rieta and I will be bombarded with whatsapp messages from Neville and the kids.  

I am planning to have a techno-vacation and will make sure that I do not read any of the messages. I do have to gird my loins for the inevitable attack when he drops them off. 

They are miserable, ungrateful, badly behaved ... blah, blah.  I find it helps to have earphones in and to just shrug.


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