My Ex-Husband remarried recently.   We had been married many, many years, had  five children together, a prolonged separation, and the nasty divorce was final only a few months ago.  The announcement of the pending nuptials was made to the children and then to me just last month.  Then things seemed to take on a life of their own.  And someway, somehow, I was  relegated to the Nanny in this whole wedding scenario, a Nanny who is not treated very well, unpaid, and forced to work and/or be on-call on  her days off.

—  Have the children ready and send them out  no later than  x o’clock am  on Friday  because they have hair and nails  appointments at y.

—  So and so will pick the children up  in time to get to wedding  [unnamed location] by x time, they will be brought back around y time by different so and so’s.

—  They’ll be brought home  “sometime in the  evening” because it is an evening wedding [no time provided]

—  Make sure they don’t mess up their hair and nails before the wedding

— Make sure they don’t mess up their hair and nails before the wedding, and again

–Make sure they don’t mess up their hair and nails before the wedding.

In the weeks preceding the above I was hit with:

— We want to take x child shopping for  wedding clothes on x date (even though it was not during the visitation times),

— We didn’t find anything so we’ll be back tomorrow  to take the child out again (even though it was not during visitation times), he said you don’t have any plans.

Well, well, well.

I had decided that since it is their father’s wedding, the children should of course be allowed to attend  (even though the wedding did not fall on a “Daddy” day).    Accordingly,   I would be flexible and allow some inconveniences.  Because, how often is he going to get married?

( Seriously, I’m taking wagers). 

However, that said, and although it is true that I no longer love him, and I have no jealous or romantic feelings about his getting married, etc.,  it turns out that my being an indirect participant in the wedding festivities by providing my assistance with the children and scheduling was a little too much to take.

The day before the wedding was grooming day.  I had to have the kids up and out at a very early hour for Summer.  I had no idea what time they would return.  On the wedding day itself, though the children were not going to dress for the wedding at home, they still had to be showered and ready to go by a certain time.   This responsibility fell on me  . . . and it pissed me off.  The children did not rush to get ready.   I had to ride them about it.

“C’mon, get up, start your showers.”

“You cannot be late, please get in the shower.”

“You cannot wait until the last minute, PLEASE, get ready.”

Damn.

Then they were picked up by the Ex’s  relatives, at least one of whom has  disrespected me in ways she doesn’t even know I know about and in other ways she does.    This  person was sent to my house to fetch my children.  She’s never been to my home before and under any other circumstances would not be welcome.

I was never actually given a location for the wedding and had to specifically ask for the  time of the wedding and a time frame in which I would expect the children home.   Not an unreasonable request, one that shouldn’t have had to have been made.  I mean I did need to make sure I was home or near home when the kids got there.

That night, though some of the children have phones, I was texted by the Ex himself to tell me the children were on their way home (no time frame provided, and still since I was not given the location of the wedding, their being on their way home didn’t mean much).  When I didn’t respond to my Ex’s text in a timely manner I got a subsequent text asking me to  confirm my receipt of his original text.  Upon confirmation, I received a “Thank you.”    I guess that meant his responsibility for the children was now over.   The Nanny (that would be me) was going to be home, the evil half sisters (actually only one of them is evil)  could drop them off and leave.

Well, well, well.

And as the children came in,  dropped their bags of clothes, shoe boxes, flowers all over the  house, it was up to me to make them clean up after themselves or do it for them.   And when one of  my children presented me with a box of leftover boutonniere roses, it was up to me to respond with the appropriate thank you.  (Ugh)  Adding insult to injury,  another child asked me why I didn’t come.   I responded, a bit too matter of factly, “To my Ex-Husband’s Wedding?” And another, older child, added simply, “It’s self-explanatory.”  I’m sure I was so much more useful to them in the capacity to which I was  assigned anyway.  The children were exhausted, they left half of their mess strewn around our little house and they went off to bed.

It was so nice for the bride and groom that  the nanny could repeatedly present the children on a timely basis to be made up so beautifully for the wedding day and that the nanny could stand by and be available to receive the children  when their appearance for and celebration of  the happy occasion was over.

Well, well, well.

As it turned out, it didn’t feel so nice for me. I am human.

This is what led to my not having such a good day on the day after the wedding.  No I didn’t feel like having a big blow out party or night out on the town on his wedding day, but I unwittingly facilitated everyone else having a grand old time while I rushed around and then waited around.  This, after the tears, complaints, uncomfortable silences and tantrums from the kids  in the six weeks from announcement of the wedding to the wedding itself.   All things I had to deal with.

In the end, though,  the kids were fine.  But the whole ordeal was taxing on me, from worrying about them generally ,and dealing with their initial ambivalence and despair “I don’t want to go to the wedding at all,”  cried one child,   to changes in schedules, and  being ordered about without common courtesy.  and having to literally clean up after the affair.

It shouldn’t have been like this.    Damn.   My Ex and his Bride  have not proven to be the most sensitive people (this is the man who sent his kids home to tell me he was getting married ON MOTHER’S DAY).  So I don’t expect much, but damn.

Hindsight.  Should I have said that he must take the children for the whole weekend?   Perhaps.   But he never has them for the whole weekend and it was not even his weekend.  Who would have taken care of them while the bride and groom honeymooned or were consummating  their marriage or when they simply weren’t needed?  The evil half-sister?    Some other random relative the kids don’t know (but I do) ?  I was convinced that if I’d said, “Well you take the kids for the whole thing” it would have been harder on the kids.   Maybe I was wrong.    And had we switched weekends and days around, which is not our norm, it would have interfered with some activities the kids and I already have planned for later in the Summer.

All in all, at the time I was concerned about trying to keep the whole thing as drama-free as possible and keeping the children from being dragged around any more than necessary.  Plus, I didn’t want to force  technicalities  just to  flex my muscles or to purposefully, spitefully inconvenience the bride and groom.  I didn’t want to play the “you don’t have a right to take the kids” card — it just would have made everything nasty.

Perhaps, however,  I should have been more concerned about myself.   Well, lesson learned.

The next time he gets married . . . things will be different.  Ha!

Consequently,  I have been in a complete funk ever since  the wedding.  I provided assistance and patience and in return, I was a recipient of their rudeness.   I know I allowed it, but it still pisses me off.   Note to self:  develop more backbone (despite years of being accommodating to him).   See My High School Self.

I  feel like I should get something for my trouble, my stress, my time, my child counseling — all the things I suffered as a result of the Ex’s decision to remarry in a hurry.

No, I don’t want a “Thank you.”

*Humph*

I’ll take a check.

Wait, no I won’t.   Cold, hard, cash.     It’s the least they could do. 

Just Me With . . .  nothing to show for any of this crap, but leftover dying wedding flower boutonnieres in a sugar jar.