Divorce is no fun. It is no fun on levels of not being fun that I never realized existed. It is as far from fun as anything can get without having a cavity filled at the same time. It is short-term no fun, long-term no fun. It is deeply expensive, requires lawyers, involves judges, and just plain sucks.
But not all the time.
One of the nice things about being on my own with JP is that I’m on my own with JP. I don’t have to run my decisions by anyone (when I’m with him). I get to decide what we’re going to do and when, what he’s going to eat, how he’s going to dress, when he’s going to sleep. I get to answer the endless “why” questions that dominate most of JP’s thought processes these days. (Why are doing that? Because. Why because? Because because… etc.)
Today I’m taking JP to the park to play with a friend. I think we may have pizza for lunch, but there’s a fair chance I’ll change my mind. Who knows what else we’ll get up to. No offense to my married friends, but how many of you—particularly the men—get to choose much of anything? Not that there aren’t advantages to having to compromise with another person. There are lots. But occasionally it’s nice just to keep your own counsel and feel like you’re the one providing what your child needs. Big responsibility, yes, but big reward, too.