Where you want to shoot your X-husband, execution style, point-blank, in the head? No? Just me? Oh well, I have no problem admitting it. (If you do, keep it to yourself. Seriously.)

What is it about the Holiday Season that makes every thing and every emotion about extremes? There’s no in-betweens. Just extremes. Am I alone in this? Again, if I am, keep it to yourself.

I usually pride myself on rising above the petty issues, for my kids. We celebrate a few Holidays and the kids’ Birthdays together. My X, his mother, my husband and me. Now add my grown son and his once-again-fiance, and Riley and Tayler. The two precious reasons we all work to rise above the past.

Last night, my precious baby Riley, age 12, who now stands 5’9” and has to shave a mustache off every couple of months; graduated from the 6th grade DARE class. For those not familiar, it is a “course” usually taught by the local police department on drugs and their many devastating effects on the lives of those who choose to partake of them.

Graduation night is considered big. With parents attending and certificates handed out, as well as a DARE t-shirt that the kids wear with pride. A program where there has been some controversy on its effectiveness and value, since tax dollars go to pay for it. (Again, if you have a problem with this program, keep it to yourself. Or write about it on your own blog)

For my baby, it was extra special. A definite “must attend.” Riley to date, has not had many opportunities to shine. As he doesn’t or hasn’t expressed an interest in just about anything extra-curricular. So as this is one of those rare occasions where he is the center of attention with his family, all of us recognized the importance of being there for him.

Unfortunately, my husband had a prior work commitment he could not get out of; as much as he would have liked to. So there we were, all gathered in the audience. My X, Riley’s sister Tayler, their grandmother (the X’s Mom) and me. I brought my camera to take as many photos of Riley as I could.  For the memories and for the fact that I knew it would make Riley feel good to know he was the center of attention for the evening.

My camera is a Sony SLR, and fairly new. I’m not comfortable (that’s putting it mildly) with manual settings, and do not mess with the many and varied menus as of yet. Mainly since I haven’t figured out which work best, for which type of photo, and I don’t know how to reset them.

As Tayler was between myself and the X, and the X was dying to play know-it-all with MY camera, he kept grabbing at it. To the point where Tayler got up and moved, leaving no buffer between the X and my camera and me.

Having spent 16 years with this man, I’m well aware of his penchant for grandstanding and desire to be the imparter of all knowledge. One tiny problem with this is 7 out of 10 times he doesn’t know jackshit, and tries to bullshit his way as he goes. Usually screwing things up.

As was the case last night with my camera. The camera that I still stand in awe of. The camera that holds so much more mystery for me, as I slowly go about learning its many functions. Lets put it this way, if my house caught on fire, once the kids, hubby and cat were out safely, the item I’d grab would be this camera!

Now you don’t spend 16 years with someone without learning at least a little about that person. Although in the X’s case, I’d say he came close to learning as little as is possible about his wife as any husband could. But he knew enough to know, this was/IS my prized possession.

As he went about trying to impart some of his all-knowing knowledge on his stupid X-wife, and I went about trying to be polite, even though his antics were making me nervous and also taking the focus off of what we were there for, Riley; the inevitable happened. He managed to f*ck up the settings; which ended anymore photos of Riley with my camera.

Call me crazy and paranoid, but I can’t help but feel this was a passive-aggressive move on his part. Of course as my blood pressure rose, he kept wanting to try and “fix things.” Finally, meekly suggesting that if I gave him my camera manual, he’d read it until he figured out how to fix it. Let’s just say at this point, all I could picture was shooting this dumbf*ck in the head.

BUT, we were there for Riley. A point the X didn’t seem to get at all. This is a man who likes to pride himself on being such a wonderful Dad. (ie; he can write out bigger checks to his kids than I can) Yes, that may just be the opinion of a disgruntled X-wife; as I know his kids all love him dearly. And no, I haven’t figured out WHY I procreated with this doofus. But I did, it’s a done deal, and now we all live with that fact. Surely I could have found a more suitable sperm donor...although I cannot imagine having any other kids than the ones God graced me with.

There was one moment when Riley was standing up there and we made eye-contact as I snapped a photo. His face lit up! Riley is one that for some reason, he doesn’t like to show emotion. So seeing him try to conceal his delight and failing miserably, managed to warm my heart and make me want to cry all at once.

I think even though his own Dad did his best to upstage him, we accomplished having Riley feel as special as he is. And my husband and I continued to do so, until he was in bed and asleep for the night. The hubby went and picked out a new game for Riley to play on his X-box. And although he couldn’t be there, congratulated him, hugged him, and then shook his hand for the first time ever. And although this to warmed my heart, by the time the kids were alseep; the evening’s events caught up with me.

No man was spared from my extreme emotions last night. And the hubby received a full account of the evenings awkwardness and my tears as I proceeded to have a complete and full meltdown.

As spouse’s are wont to do when emotions are running high; miscommunications commenced.  I couldn’t explain my extreme reactions, and he kept taking it as a personal attack, since he wasn’t able to make it to Riley’s graduation. Eventually it became a personal attack as I realized just how much I had come to rely on him as my “cover” and “buffer” as far as dealing with the X was concerned.

Of course the irony of this situation has not escaped me. Life is full of ironies when you’re looking for them. I realize that my husband is the rock the puts stability to the awkward gatherings of X’s. The X’s mother likes Paul, I’m sure far more than she likes her son’s X-wife. (And as a mother, I can completely understand that. Moreso taking into account some of the things I pulled while married to her son)

Everyone handles the situation, and behaves appropriately when my husband is there. The X would have never played “grab-ass” with my camera if the hubby was there. And I do believe all the negative feelings I have towards being married to the X would not have flooded me so completely, had my present and future (my husband) been there.  It was like a flashback to a nightmare that took me years to extricate myself from. And by nightmare, I mean the lonliness being married to the X had represented. The lack of any real sense of intimacy or being heard. The X spent 16 years being a one-man show in a game of “look at me, arn’t I the saint.” I didn’t even have a walk-on part in that marriage. I was a prop, plain and simple.

Maybe I’ll never figure out completely why there is always the proverbial meltdown during the Holiday season. Is it the constant desire to provide the Norman Rockwell Holiday for myself and my family? Is it the many Holidays that were always tinged with a sense of sadness and deceit? Who knows. I could psycho-babble analyze it until Hell froze over, and I don’t think I would ever completely understand it.

My only hope at this point, this Holiday season, is that the hubby does not have to work an evening when we yet again must gather to support, encourage and clap for one of my children’s special moments.

sidenote: I would never physically harm or try to harm anyone or anything. This is my diary, where I can vomit up my thoughts and feelings. I am disgusted with violence in all its forms. But this doesn’t stop me from releasing my own emotions and frustrations in the form of the written word.