This morning, a certain person suggested ( and that’s a polite way of putting it) that I should stop wasting time singing in a choir and instead work some shifts in a bar if finances are indeed as tight as I say they are. Hmmm. Interesting idea but not very well thought through. Employing a babysitter so that I can work five or six hours behind a bar and then returning home and handing said babysitter the cash I’ve just earned sounds like fun but probably not the most logical or profitable of ideas. Or maybe I should leave Jake in charge? After all, he’s nearly nine and a fairly responsible young man. He would never intentionally let harm come to his brothers and sister and is quite capable of putting himself to bed these days.
Once he who shall not be named had left I took a few deep breathes and tried counting to ten in an attempt to regain some kind of emotional equilibrium. It didn’t work. I went about clearing up the mornings’ mess and loading the dishwasher in a very heavy handed way and had one of those fantastic imaginary rows where you say everything you want to say without missing a beat, floor your opponent and finish by doing a lap of victory around their withered remains.
An hour or two later, when the red mist had subsided, I felt quite liberated by the words exchanged this morning. Clarity is always good. I’ve spent much of the last two years in a tortured state of angst and indecision, questioning the decisions I’ve made and tying myself in knots trying to ensure the children’s happiness and stability as well as, way down on the list, my own. It’s reassuring, if a tad depressing, to know that every single time I find myself doubting the choices I’ve made that something will be said or done that reminds me of exactly why I’m chosing to be alone right now and that as hard as that might be it has to be better than the current alternative. I think I’ll do the victory dance anyway, just for fun.