I had a Mother's Moment of Anguish this evening. It's the first weekend of the month when the boys go to see their father. Until now, he's been coming down from Paris on the train, and taking them back, then doing the reverse journey on the Sunday.
This weekend, however, they had to go up on the plane under the Air France accompanied children scheme. It all went like clockwork except that I don't know my ex's address and had to ask my eldest. Luckily he knew it or I'd have been obliged to ring my ex to ask. It's needed to identify the person who collects them at the other end. Once that little form had been filled in, the boys were given a blue plastic folder to go round their necks containing their passports and tickets.
We then went up to customs and waited for the AF person in charge to take them through. My MMA happened as they went through and were taken off to board the aircraft WITHOUT ME. This has never happened before, of course, and it was strangely upsetting seeing them go off into the waiting area perhaps never to be seen again... The plane didn't crash - my ex was kind enough to call to let me know they'd arrived safely. Ouf!
You'll be totally unsurprised to know that there were another 8 children flying alone (accompanied). Divorce oblige. From the age of 12 they don't need to be accompanied and there were another 3 at least who were flying all alone. Very blasé they looked about it too. I was impressed with these mini jet-setters.
I am hoping to do some good work on my book this weekend - no gallivanting, no blokies, no going out on the town. Those opportunities usually come up on weekends with the boys, such is life. I'm not even sure one can still get to the beach either. As it's being re-sanded, there are barriers up everywhere, so marching along by the sea is out too. I'll be writing instead with impunity, you'll see!