Father's Day weekend was a bit rough around the edges.
Saturday was the day that had been scheduled for Matt's ex-wife to move her belongings out of the house and off of the property. Matt had been moving items out and into the garage for days to speed up the process.
It didn't seem to help.
I had such high expectations that it would go smoothly and that the four of us (Matt, Me, Her, and the man that she cheated on Matt with) would be able to have a cordial relationship and be able to handle the move like adults.
In the end, I was exceptionally thankful the kids were not there.
It was ugly, start to finish.
It was emotionally exhausting.
It made me sad.
I am grateful, so grateful, that Matt has sole custody of C-man.
I am grateful that it is done.
I am grateful that we don't have to do that again. Ever.
We took a walk down to the creek on the property to get some energy out and to calm down a bit.
For some reason, it was my first time walking down there.
It was beautiful and peaceful and just what we needed.
The dogs thought so, too.
Sunday brought more adventure.
While trying to catch and halter horses, Matt got into a bit of a rodeo with Fritz, who was spooked by Teddy.
Matt lost the rodeo.
Matt has a concussion and had 11 stitches put in his head for a hole that was 1 1/2 inches deep.
It was not good.
At all.
We'd rather not have a repeat of Father's Day weekend.
