I think I just failed How To Break Important News To Your Children.
We had a long conversation this afternoon, when he got in from work. Just the two of us. Going round and round in circles. He loves me. He thinks we should try. It will be alright this time, now we’ve admitted there’s a problem. We can fix it.
I hate these conversations.
I hate that if I speak the truth, it hurts him. Because it’s pretty damned blunt. That I can’t see any kind of future for the two of us; that I just want some space; that I feel trapped living with him. I can hear how negative that must sound, but it’s how it is from where I’m standing. I ran out of positives years ago. I hate that if I stay quiet, trying not to hurt him any more, he sees that as a hopeful sign.
So, tonight, I finally told the kids. That we’re holidaying separately. Taking turns. Swopping them over somewhere in North Wales. Mummy and daddy aren’t getting on very well, but we both really love all of you. All the cliches in the book.
“Do you want to kill each other?”
“Is this about kissing?”
“I think I’ll go to bed now.”
That made me realise how young two of them are, and vow to make time for a proper talk with the big one tomorrow. I felt we had to tell them together, but she obviously felt caught in the middle between the two of us.
And I’m so angry that he said nothing at all to the children. Not one word. So I get to be The One To Blame. The One Who Wants To Break Up The Family.