Monday, June 2, 2014

My Maturity Level and Me ...

So Andrew and I were at his school's carnival yesterday, and I had the not-so-much-pleasure of seeing my ex-husband there.  I would like to believe that it's a step in the right direction that I didn't feel as though I wanted to murder him on the spot; I only wanted to puke all over his ugly ass sneakers.  Yeah, that's right, I said ugly ass sneakers.  I'm not above being a petty little bitch.  I couldn't stand his laugh or his smile or his stupid voice, and I really couldn't have been more overjoyed at his announcement of leaving the carnival.  However, this wasn't about me and my disgust and dislike of the man.  This was about Andrew and him being super excited to see his dad and play carnival games with his dad and go on rides and show off for his dad.

As much as I dislike the man I once called my husband, I do feel much happiness when Andrew's face lights up when he sees his dad.  There are plenty of kids that I know who don't have their dad around or who have a dad that only shows up when he feels like it or who only pays child support from time to time and has no desire to see his kid(s).  No matter the circumstances surrounding our divorce (it's mostly his fault though for sure) he is a good dad and for that I am grateful.  I love my boy more than I could ever put into words, those of you with boys can understand, and his happiness comes before mine.  

That's not to say, however, that I never have an overwhelming urge to stomp my feet and pout and cry whenever Andrew shows excitement from seeing his dad.  I'm only human, and I most definitely am a mom, and so help me God, if that man ever hurts him in any way, he will very much be afraid of me.  I still am saddened for the day when Andrew is older and can put two and two together, but I'm optimistic that when that day eventually comes I will have done a better job at raising him than I think I have been doing.  

In the meantime, I will continue to put my boy's well-being ahead of my own childish desires because he is worth so much more to me, and I am very grateful that he has a dad that is involved in his life.  That doesn't stop me and my immaturity from thinking he's a big jerk-face asshole with ugly sneakers and a smile I want to punch right off his stupid jerk head; the big dummy-face.  I would still love to take the ball I'm stomping home with and shove it up his ass, but I'll just smile and wave goodbye and take Andrew's hand in mine, give it a little squeeze and smile when he squeezes mine back.

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