Whipped

I'm giving Jason some time on the Angelica issue. He's decided to take them to his parents for a series of talks. I'm leaving him to it for a while - after the ear-bashing he's received from me recently I imagine he needs to go away and think about what he's been doing (I think I was a primary school teacher in a previous life).

In the meantime, he dropped the kids off on Wednesday and was told that he'd be taking Angelica to a university open day in Notts on Saturday, because it was his turn. They've decided to alternate so this is his second, and BM's done one.

This kind of scuppers his plans for the weekend. Well, actually our plans, as we were supposed to just have Mark over, which is always fun. Now Mark will be babysat by Jason's parents, which I'm sure he'll enjoy. They have a terrier that Mark loves to torment. However, I know that Jason was also looking forward to the things he'd planned to do with his son. Still, he'll get Sunday.

We were discussing the change of plans when he told me on Thursday, and all the little details, like whether they would be back for dinner, would they be eating together, should I fend for myself, could I invite someone over or would he be bringing Mark back and expect dinner? In the past I've not asked any of these questions, have been told to expect them home for food and then not eaten myself because they didn't get back till late, ate elsewhere and didn't call to tell me.

Not anymore, Sweetheart - that woman is outta here.

Jason's quite laid back - he doesn't do plans. He had no idea what he wanted and couldn't understand why I wouldn't just wait and see what happened (see previous experiences, Sunshine). Not that this is a big deal, but I'm starting small with the training him to think about the position he puts me in.

He eventually said, 'Hey, it's not my fault - this was dumped on me last minute too!'
Apparently the word 'no' is not a part of his vocabulary. I'm familiar with this. For New Year's last year we had long planned to go out together for a special evening, just the two of us (Jason had had the kids the year before). The day before New Year's eve he tells me that 'We're taking the kids to London for the fireworks'.

I'm sorry, what?

This is after a particularly nasty Christmas where I had worked my backside raw for them, earning money for gifts, organising outings, making and embroidering stockings, cooking until the oven was gasping for mercy and cleaning the house practically daily after the kids and, occasionally, dog, left their mark on things. That wasn't the nasty bit. The horrid part was Angelica's treatment of me - which meant that I was left out of all the celebrations and had to clean the house all over again afterwards because she decided it would be hilarious to throw glitter, shredded paper, sequins and foil everywhere. Literally, everywhere, it was like Tinkerbell had vomited after a frat party and we still find glitter in the carpet pile and foil bits down the back of the couch.

Ok, I didn't mind too much about the work (except for that last bit, I swear she knew exactly what she was doing when she did that); it was the being left out that really hurt.

Anyway, I'm digressing. When I pointed out the lack of short notice and that I wasn't sure spending New Year entertaining Angelica would be pleasant after Christmas, Jason said:
'Well, you don't have to come.'

No, I'm sure I can make other plans with ONE DAY left to go. After I've turned down other invitations and lost the opportunity of a lift given that everyone I know has gone away and I didn't think I'd need to go with them. Sure, I could stay at home on my own and get sozzled on port while I beat myself at hangman. Or maybe just beat myself.

I found a solution. I'll tell you about it another time.

Basically, the point that I lost somewhere back there amidst the foil and fireworks was that Jason has a hard time saying no when the BM says 'jump'. He admits this. I can understand, it just bugs me sometimes that I'm expected to constantly work my life around them. Obviously only when it affects me too. Is a little bit of notice too much to ask?

Personally, I went to all my university interviews alone - even when they were technically in a different country (as I'm sure the Scots prefer to think). But that really wouldn't work for Angelica.

'I'll only get a phone call when she's in Glasgow,' Jason points out.

Can't argue with that.