What the actual fuck?

…am I supposed to do? Ex husband (since 2005) has very recently broken up with his live-in girlfriend whom I love. (Maybe that’s the first inkling I should have had about the potential longevity of this relationship.) I wouldn’t be very affected by this if not for the effect it’s having on my children. HFS they are of course devastated. But wait, it gets better.

The kids and I spent all weekend dealing with this news, which is huge news because the kids and ex have to move. They had all been living at the girlfriend’s house with her and her son. Luckily ex still has his own home that he had rented out to other people. So he had to give them notice before he moves everything back in this coming weekend. Oh and also, he wanted the kids’ help loading the trailer with belongings. That’s not happening. I will put my body in between ex and my kids if necessary.

As a result of these unpleasant events, ex has become unpleasant himself. When under stress he typically lashes out at others, gives no slack,and generally is a prick. I can handle it because I don’t live with him and I don’t care if he gets angry because there are no real consequences for me when that happens. It’s different for a 12 yr old and a 10 yr old though. I’d love to blast him, but that would do no good. All I can do is teach my children how to cope with their father’s anger. Unfortunately their feelings are often hurt. His attitude and relationship habits (this is not the first time, not even the 2nd) are not legal grounds for me to cut down his influence during times like these. It’s not that I don’t think they need him, because I know that they do. I just wish like hell I could protect them from him when he’s being a dickhead. I fully expect this will situation happen again, but the next time I’ll bet our children won’t be so quick to adapt to the new situation with a new woman. 

It’s not as if I have never made mistakes with them. This wound is fresh, and we are all still reeling from it. We feel like there has been a death in the family, and that’s not hyperbole. We are all fine for an hour or more, then one or more of us will dissolve into tears. Generally I don’t cry; I’m not what you would call a crier. But when I see my children in pain of any kind, here comes the tears. I can muster up a few just by thinking about some of the conversations I’ve had with the kids this weekend. 

 

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