The Christmas That Didn't Happen

Thanksgiving was a mess. My ex was supposed to see the kids for two days. Instead he hemmed and hawed, left late, and made us stay at a hotel in a strange city over night while he took his sweet time coming to the pick up spot.

So when the idea of Christmas came, I didn't bother. I sent him a simple text message telling him that he was free to come join us on Christmas morning and left it at that.

So imagine my non-surprise when he didn't bother to even call the kids. No cards came in the mail, no gifts arrived from daddy, not even a Skype visit.

This is what makes divorce suck the most. At least when we were still together he was there. Sure, he was sitting on the couch barely paying attention. But at least he was there. The kids did not have to ask where their daddy was. They knew where to find him when they wanted him.

I wonder if he realizes that he is missing out as much as them. The sheer excitement of watching them fly through wrapping paper. The mountain of chocolates that they happily share with everyone. The thrill of finding that last secret treasure at the bottom of the stocking. For all that they miss him, he missed those magical moments. Every smile, every squeal, every laugh. He missed them all.

I don't know when the kids will get to see him again. He's promised new bikes and a fancy doll stroller for their presents. But seeing them, or even calling them, is often too much work. And part of them knows it. They felt it in the two Christmases we had this year. The one full of laughter and fun, and the one that didn't happen.