I grew up with an alcoholic father.
He used to go missing for weeks.
I remember my mum sending him to the shop for meat for the dinner and he didn't come home for three days. We had ham sandwiches for dinner.
He used to cry all over the place, he abused us and my mother, he was a twisted evil bully of a man.
She didn't leave him until we were all adults and he ruined our lives.
My brother is an alcoholic, my sister is an alcoholic and the rest of us are almost tee total.
I have no contact with my father and am still furious at my mother all these years later.
And thanks to dementia, she doesn't remember his abuse. It's just us who has to live with it.
I get how hard this is, I really do, but please think of those two little boys and let them see they don't have to live like this.
I used to lie awake on a Saturday night (Friday in your case) and panic and worry about what would happen when he finally came home. I couldn't breathe as I waited for a key in the door, a drunken sneeze or some signal that he was in a good or bad mood.
It took me years to control the sick feeling when I smelt beer on someone's breath or a certain aftershave.
I'm in my 40's now, I have a stomach ulcer that is absolutely linked to childhood trauma and stress.
I wish someone had given my mother advice to walk away, I'd rather have had nothing than lay in bed listening to my father shouting or crying.