home alone

one of the worst things about being separate, divorced or whatever they call it (or whatever you want to call it) these days, is when the “ex-other half” has the child.

the house seems to be empty without the little pitter patter of my son’s feet or even the irritating 10 times over “mummy”, “mummy”.

it was easy the first year – i couldn’t believe that I actually had time to myself – i could go and see that movie that i always wanted to see – i could window shop until I dropped – i could make myself a toast for dinner instead of having to cook a well-prepared dinner (or at least try to cook such a dinner) – and i could do the supermarket shopping in 10 minutes flat.

but now all of the above sounds so mundane

i would give up it all up just to have him here.

bitching to my friends (or my mother) gets me nowhere – they say it is only for a week – but that week seems like the longest week in my entire life and the day of my son’s return never seems to arrive.

home alone – i have six more nights to go.

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