The Break-Up

In the last few months, three couples we know have separated. One sounds like a classic (cliched) male mid-life crisis; another is the sad result of increasing disharmony and emotional distance; another is an equally sad combination of bipolar disorder and the mid-life thing. I was a bridesmaid at one of the weddings; Spouse was MC at another.

These were couples who were already together, in one case already married, by the time Spouse and I got together almost 16 years ago. They all have children.

It's sad and strange. We get accustomed to identifying people together, as a couple, as a family. Who do you stay in touch with? Do you still send Christmas cards? Will it ever be ok to invite them both to the same function?

I also wonder - what was the tipping point? I don't believe anyone who says that they're always happy in their relationship; I'm sure everyone has moments of dissatisfaction, boredom or even intense unhappiness. But once you've been together a while, when things are rocky, it's easier to think - this too shall pass. Is it that you no longer believe the bad times will pass? Is it that the bad times happen too often and last for too long? Is it when the pros of staying no longer outweigh the cons of going?

My parents divorced when I was aged somewhere between Kid 1 and Kid 2's current ages (10 and almost 14). I can't even remember exactly when it was. As a precocious (and obnoxious) teenager I was quite flippant about it. Divorce was almost fashionable, and I thought it was a good thing. I couldn't remember my parents happy together.

It is probably salient that I am reading Siri Hustvedt's The Summer Without Men.

Someone needs to get engaged or married to cheer me up. No, witless Royals don't count. 

A Weekend in the Country

We just spent the weekend at the (holiday) vineyard of some friends, up in the Hunter Valley. It was exactly my preferred type of weekend - much cooking and eating, lovely wine, a log fire on Sunday night (even though it wasn't really cold enough to justify it), walks, reading, happy children (they have three), even a happy teenager (mine) ... I think the offspring are mainly happy as they're now both on holidays for a couple of weeks.

Now I'm a day behind on my magazine deadlines, but since the publisher always pays me late, I'm refusing to care.

And this coming weekend I'm running away again, driving five hours north to visit a good friend who abandoned me and moved to the country (she used to be my neighbour). We plan to make marmalade and quince paste and gossip and plan her garden and play with her baby (9 months old) and cook hearty roasts and eat too much ... I might even motivate myself enough to take up my knitting needles.

It seems that my preferred activities would be more suited to a wardrobe of tweed and wellies, whereas what I really really want (thank goodness my size is already sold out on NAP) is this: