Fielding frustrations

The last few days especially have been hedged with them.

An on-going frustration for me at the moment is the return to dial-up internet. It.is.driving.me.bonkers. Or should that be, more insane. The amount of time lost as I sit here waiting for pages to load IS insane. Let me send out a big apology right now to all my regular correspondents, especially fellow Weekly Winner participants - I try to get to your blogs, to read and comment. Many of you I have on Google Reader, which takes long enough to load, and recently I have been screaming with frustration before a single page has completed. SO, if you have noticed the lack of my pithy and sparkling wit (and dumb comments), I am soooo sorry. I do love you, and I long to share the linky love around but it is just taking too.damn.long.

Okay, whinge #1 over.

The Big Feller caused me some frustrated soul searching this weekend, on a few levels. Most of the reactions he elicits from me have been lessened by the act of distancing myself from him, geographically and emotionally, but because of his role in the wee man's life I can't break away from it entirely.

He is unreliable; in keeping appointments, commitments, financial promises, even in planning for his time with his son. He has spent 10 years trusting that I would help smooth, mollify, clarify or distract, whatever distress he caused glibly explained away by seemingly plausible reasons (excuses).

He was 4 and a half hours late picking the wee man up - no phone call prior to his arrival. He owes me money, and gives me promises in exchange. (How unusual). He tells me tales of the latest dramas some of his friends are involved in - people I have no interest, regard or respect for, so my care factor is Zero - and he does it over the wee man's head, who has absolutely no need to hear about these people's seedy lives.

He left with the wee man on Saturday, and I walked inside downcast, carrying a sticky filthy cloud of negative energy which I almost needed to claw off me.

And I felt sooo bad that my wee man was being taken away to be immersed in his father's world, where those kinds of things happen, and where I am classed as "over-protective" and "paranoid". Even though I know he would have a good time, and be loved, and wants to have time with his Dad, it just felt wrong.

And then he had the hide to text me repeatedly on Sunday asking, begging, apologising, to borrow some more money because he had paid so many bills this week he had no money left to buy food, and the wee man didn't want to eat anything he had in the place. Did I mention his inability to plan ahead, to examine consequences?

Arrrrggggghhhhh!

Don't ask...