The last couple days, I caught up on work around home, including a shit ton of yard work, and shampooing my carpet (having a 3-year-old with a UTI is glamorous, I tell you). My mom and I took my kids out to an international festival where they have countries from all over the world that serve their signature dishes. We hit up our favourites, mango pudding and chicken satay from Singapore and Malaysia, cevapi from Bosnia and Herzegovina, and tons of yummy Scandinavian treats from the Scandinavian tent. My kids had a blast, we got soaking wet, and it was generally fun.
While we were out, F asked to borrow the van to pick up some bunk beds for the kids. When I returned to the van, the seat was far up and the steering wheel wasn’t where it usually is. This clued me in – W had taken the van, not F. I really didn’t care that she had driven it, just that he hadn’t told me it was her taking it.
My mom started talking about the fact that the kids are going on vacation to F’s parent’s house for the last 2 weeks of August, and how she and my step-dad are also going on vacation during that time. My kids announced loudly that they were driving to their grandma and grandpa’s house but W was flying out to meet them later. There. That was it. The first time I felt a pang of sorrow about my choice to separate from F. Not because I want to be with him. Not because she is with him. But because she gets to go on vacation, with MY kids, to MY in-laws house. For 14 years, they’ve been MY family. I love them. But now, she gets to go to their house with my kids, instead of me.
There’s truly no reason to be upset. I don’t want to go on vacation with F to his parents house just months after our separation. But I don’t want her to go either. I don’t want her to have my family and live my life. Even if it’s the life I chose not to live anymore. I wonder if I would feel this way if I liked her at all, but I suspect I wouldn’t, and then that makes me sad too. My kids could have a great step-mom in their life, instead of this pathetic excuse for a partner that F has chosen.
Part of me is quietly happy that I finally had feelings about my separation, because I was feeling a bit weird that all I had was the annoyance of dealing with F. I was starting to feel like there was something wrong with me after being completely devastated when D broke up with me after six months and hardly being upset after I broke up with F after 14 years. I guess I’m not heartless.
I don’t have much else to say. I’ve assimilated the new information and no longer am sad. But there was a moment where I hurt, just a little.