I spot an open box of Walgreen’s tampons in the entry way of my ex’s home as I wait to pick up my son. My ex walks back and forth past the tampons and the overnight bag on his way to pick up this and that for the baby to have when he’s at my house.

My daughter isn’t menstruating – check. Must be a new girlfriend – check.

Now the onslaught of thoughts. First the selfish ones: Oh god, is he going to be the happily married one in ten years, and me ten years older, fatter, more wrinkled, and less desirable? This can’t be; he can’t possibly be that tight with someone this soon. After all, a one-night stand would not have left a box of tampons AND an overnight bag.

What does she look like? Is she thinner than me? Fewer wrinkles? Has she experienced his intimidation yet? Are they past that lusty sexual phase and into the it’s-just you-again phase? What sort of woman would sign up for his situation?

Then the less selfish concerns: How is this affecting my daughter and son? How weird must it be for my daughter to see this woman with her father? Does it hurt her? Confuse her? Do I tell her that I know? How is affecting my son?

My son was absolutely impossible last night and this morning. Wouldn’t pee on the toilet, so he peed in the bed. Wants a banana, doesn’t want a banana. Wants the bicycle book, doesn’t want the bicycle book. Is there a connection between the presence of the other woman and his agitated state? I don’t know. How freaky is his and my daughter’s life going to be?

One might say that it’s just contemporary life; they will get used to it. I think that’s a cop out. I have observed a sort of pained resignation in the faces of many children of divorce when they speak about their parents in any depth. Pain and resignation. I am sorry that this has happened. I am sorry for my children. Yes, they will survive, but something was taken from them that I am not sure can ever be replaced.

And that hurts.

By Vicki Inglis

Labels: Vicki Inglis

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