I haven't posted on my blog for a long time. One of the reasons is that I'm in the middle of getting divorced. When the ex-to-be said she wanted to separate it caught me by surprise, although on reflection it isn't so much of a surprise. I won't go into the details, that's not what I want to focus on.
I moved out about six weeks ago. I have all three boys every other weekend, the 11-year-old by himself on Monday nights, and on Wednesday nights I alternate between the eight-year-old and the 18-month-old. The adjustment has been tough for all of us. For me, this is my first time ever living alone. I've always at least had a roommate. The house is very quiet when it's just me. Sometimes that's nice, sometimes it's not, but it always feels weird. I assume that eventually I'll get used to it.
I had the eight-year-old this evening. He was really upset for a while when he got here, but once I got some food into him he calmed down. We outside and ate dinner. he was sitting in the rocking chair again. He does a better job of staying at the table and eating when he sits in the rocking chair. I may have to move it into the house come winter.
He engaged with me really well after dinner. He was dragging a chair around the yard, smiling and giggling. I took several pictures of him, but I didn't manage to catch the smile. We played "I'm going to get you" for a long time. We ran back and forth across the yard. He was looking back over his shoulder at me. I haven't managed to get that level of engagement for quite a while. I don't think it would happen if the 18-month-old had been here with us. It's hard to focus on the eight-year-old when the 18-month-old is around.