Month: April 2024

Game over…

image.jpeg

It’s funny how I can’t even exactly pinpoint where things went wrong in my marriage. Why is that? Is it normal? I mean you are going along okay. It’s just regular life. A typical marriage with three kids. Then…it isn’t. It’s done. And somehow, like a dumb-ass, I’m surprised. I knew things weren’t perfect. I was well aware of that. But I honestly  never thought things were ‘divorce worthy.’ Even when I found out about the affair…I (naively) thought it could be worked out. Maybe because I never expected things to be perfect. I was always too realistic for that. I did however believe in unconditional love. At least I used too…

I believed that marriage kind of went in phases. Some good. Some bad. Some hard. Some easy. But if you just stuck it out someday you would find yourself sitting on the front porch together watching your grandchildren play in the yard. On the swing that your own children used to play on. No one lives a life where they are ‘happy’ every moment. But you get through it. That’s reality. That’s life.

In my mind our marriage wasn’t that bad. Call me crazy! I guess I really was wearing rose colored glasses. Or had low expectations for myself. I remember all the snapshots that make up the memories of my marriage. The milestones. Our engagement. The Wedding. The Pregnancies. Holidays, birthdays, anniversaries, the first day of kindergarten (x3), vacations, camping… And all the mundane things. Sick kids. Bath time. Family dinners. Cook outs. Watching Wheel of Fortune every night while I made dinner. I have a box full of photos that prove what a happy family we were! And I guess that was my biggest mistake…

I missed the clues that clearly stated ‘wake up lady-this isn’t going well.’But in all fairness-those clues kind of snuck up on me. They were small at first. Hardly even noticeable. The X spent more and more time away from home. But I never questioned it. I was lucky enough to be a stay-at-home mom…how could I complain? And I don’t think it was always another woman that had his attention. The truth is he just didn’t want to spend that much time at home. With me. With the kids. It wasn’t his comfort zone. His hours ‘at work’ were extensive. 70-80 hours a week. He went to the office every single day of the year- except for the major holidays. He just wasn’t around. We were never partners. We were never friends. He didn’t need me as a companion. He just needed me to be the mother of his kids. A housekeeper and a babysitter. And as a result…I was a very lonely wife. A very lonely woman.

I remember one night laying in bed with the X watching TV. As the mom of 3 small kids I craved adult conversation. Adult companionship.  I remember talking away about my day. The news. What we we had for dinner. Just talking. Trying hard to get his attention. In retrospect I don’t think he ever really realized how much I just wanted his attention. His affection…

“Don’t you have a friend to talk to about this?”interrupted my X matter-of-factly. He wasn’t even trying to be an ass. He just didn’t want to talk to me. His day was over. He wanted to watch TV. But I remember that interaction clearly. I can still see the pajamas (light blue) I was wearing and picture the clean white sheets on the bed. His statement kind of stunned me. It hurt me.  I knew then that I wasn’t his friend. And I felt the loneliness acutely.

Was that the beginning of the end? I’m not sure. I don’t know when the ‘end’ started. I know it was way before that night… Maybe it was just doomed from the start. It’s a mystery. I know the distance and lack of intimacy only increased over time. The void was filled with resentment and ‘unhappiness’ on both our parts. I wanted a husband who was a best friend. The X didn’t. I wanted unconditional love. The X didn’t speak that language…

But regardless of when or why or who or what…it did end. In a explosion of infidelity and anger. BOOM. It was over. Finished. No more. Game Over.

Surprise…you’re Divorced.👠

 

 

 

 

You do you…

image

It’s Saturday night. I drank wine. (Maybe to much…no…seriously to much.) And I listened to Prince. I’m a glutton for punishment. **Disclaimer. I’ve listened to ‘When Doves Cry’ 7 times in a row. And now I’m blogging.** God I love Prince. I am heartbroken. He was one of the greatest. He is one of the greatest. I remember myself in the 80’s. The 90’s. Listening to his music. I sat with my sister, nephew and his fiance reminiscing about the past tonight. About my memories. When I was to young to understand I snuck into the local State Movie theater to watch the movie Purple Rain. I loved it. I was mesmerized. It was that simple. He was Prince. Period. He wore high heels and eyeliner and he was the most masculine thing I had ever imagined. My first memory of sexuality. Sex. Sexiness. He was fucking hot. I was in love.

Life is so funny. You really don’t know what is going on until you reach your 40’s. But try telling your 20 something self that. (Or-how about that teenager listening to Purple Rain…) When you are about 25 you think you know everything. You are an adult. You have it all figured out. You were the shit. You don’t need your parents- or your tipsy Aunt giving you life hints (sigh). You don’t need that bullshit. Fuck that! You are a grown-up. But when you are a 42 year old divorced single working mom…you need all the support you can get. It’s called perspective. When your reach your 40’s you realize you need all the advice  you can get. And you don’t even feel bad about it. You finally know better. That’s why self-help books are so popular. We all need help of some kind.

We all wish we could go back. I don’t care who you are. Oprah. Prince. Barack Obama. Divorce Shoes. ‘If I knew now what I knew then’ might be the most prophetic statement in history.But fuck if we admit it at the time. ‘Cause we all think we know better. Between the age of 18-25 we are fucking clueless adults. And btw…making some of the most important decisions of our lives. It’s kinda of funny…right? I will major in this! Let’s get married! We should have kids! This is the best job ever! I’m so smart! God…what idiots. And those ‘idiot’s’ have to live with those ‘brilliant’ choices forever. (And that’s one reason why I have an X…)

So what would I tell my 20ish year old self? Hmmmm… If I could only go back.

I would tell that 21 year old girl some pretty important stuff. Life changing stuff. Stuff that she would have probably nodded politely too and gone on to do the exact opposite. Like everyone else her age. But it’s important shit. Stuff I eventually hope to pass on to my own children. (Who will also probably nod politely and go on to do their own shit).Life experiences that can only can be gained from…you know…life experience.

#1 Slow down. What’s the hurry? You have time. You are in your 20’s for Godsakes. It’s going to be okay. I promise. This isn’t a race. Take your time. Make your mistakes. Sleep on your neighbors couch. Have bad credit. Your 25 years old. You still have time to fix it! If you are spending one minute crying about how thing’s aren’t going like you expected-STOP. I’m serious!  This is life on training wheels. Enjoy it!💜

#2 Think about you first. (***Disclaimer… As long it’s not always about you…remember to have balance. There can be a fine line between advocating for yourself and being selfish. But I trust you to figure that out.) If you don’t have kids this is your time! Figure out what YOU want. Not what your ‘guy’ wants. Not what his family wants. Not what YOUR family wants. This is about you. Your life is about figuring out YOU. And don’t you dare forget it. Don’t be afraid to make waves. Don’t try to always please those around you. Put on your big girl shoes and figure out what you want out of life. I know you have already heard that you have only one chance at it. But listen up and believe it this time. You can’t go back. Don’t be afraid. Fear and anxiety will just steal your success. And your happiness. Don’t worry about upsetting your future mother-in-law. Mother-in-laws are nothing but a pain in the ass anyway. Live the life that you want. The life that means something to you. You only have one shot at this. And I can’t stress this enough. You are your own best advocate. Follow YOUR heart. Take the time to figure out what it is saying. It’s the only one that matters.💜

#3 Stop caring what other people think. You do you. Let them do them. And I’m talking big here…cause this is a hard one. Trying to filter out the noise of other peoples opinions. Advice. Helpful hints. It’s hard. Real hard. But strap on those big girl shoes and make a stand now. Live your authentic life. When I was a 20 year old woman I aimed to please. To make people happy. To avoid conflict. And though I wouldn’t have believed it then-I see it clearly now-it was one of the biggest mistakes of my life. It ultimately contributed to the downfall of a marriage. It set me up to be the most agreeable doormat in history. My need to please…pleased everyone but myself.💜

Life is such a learning experience. And I would say now to my adult  (future) niece and nephew the same thing I say to my own children. Every experience is a learning experience. So chill out. It will be okay. As long as you listen to your Aunt…(I couldn’t resist.)

And one last thing…about Prince. He wore awesome fucking shoes.👠

 

 

*All errors in this blog are attributed to the wine.🍷

 

**”DEARLY BELOVED…WE ARE GATHERED HERE TODAY TO GET THROUGH THIS THING CALLED LIFE.”   PRINCE 1958-2016💜

image.jpeg

 

 

 

What do you mean I’m fired?

image

I spent most of my adult life as a stay-at-home wife and mother. It was really my childhood dream. I’m serious!  I remember someone asking me once what I wanted to be when I grew up. My answer? Mom, of course.  And my dream came true. I had a lovely home, three beautiful children and a loving husband (or so I thought).  I’m not going to lie…it was a pretty great gig. To say I loved it would be an understatement.  Especially the ‘mom’ part. I was right there with my kids 24/7. 365 days a year. Like every stay-at-home mother my job was definitely ‘full time.’ More like ‘all the time.’ There are no sick days. No mental health days. No vacations. When they were little-I couldn’t even go to the bathroom alone. (Frankly now that they are teenagers I still can’t always go to the bathroom alone…)  No matter what you are ‘on duty.’  I had a ring side seat to their every waking (and sleeping) moment. I was there for all of the important milestones. I was their #1 fan! Beaming with pride.  For all of the normal, mundane, everyday moments that don’t seem like much at the time-I was still right beside them. (And just in case you are wondering…all those seemingly unimportant moments end up being the most important. That’s what makes the stay-at-home mom gig the best one around.) I couldn’t imagine things being any different.

I thought that wife and mom would be my lifelong career. Someday I would be promoted to Grandma! (For the record I think I will be a MeMe…)  But instead, it turned out to be the only job I have ever been fired from. The X wasn’t having it anymore. Or more specifically he wasn’t having me anymore. My days as stay-at-home mom were numbered.  So what was the end of my marriage also became the beginning of a new phase in life. ‘Single working mom.’ I put on my big girl divorce shoes and found myself a job. A career. I didn’t want to. I wanted to hold on to my old gig! Desperately. But…did I mention I was fired? That job was no longer an option. It was time to move on. And it was one of the scariest times of my life.

The thing about being a working mom is…you’re still on mom duty full-time. 24/7. Always. Forever. (Still no sick days!) But now you are going to go ahead in squeeze in another full time job. And if you throw in the ‘single’ part…it’s just another element of fun to add to the mix. You are working full time…with no built-in back up at home. Sounds easy, right? Everyone is doing it, right? Holy shit. It’s hard. Real hard. Real real hard. The first year after my divorce I went home from work everyday exhausted. My brain was on overload. I was mentally and physically drained. I was the quintessential single working mom…

But something else happened. Something unexpected. Some perks. Along with all the fear. And the exhaustion. The frozen pizza’s because I was too tired to cook. The piles of dirty clothes. The to do list that was never getting done… Along with all that stress I slowly found something new. Something I never got in my marriage! I found respect. And respect is something I didn’t receive much of during my run as a stay-at-home mom. For sure not from my X. Obviously. (But he wasn’t the only one.) At my job I found respect from the people I work with. From my friends and family. From my children. And most importantly…from myself. Respect, confidence, recognition, improved self-esteem. They all ended up being perks of my new working mom status. Who knew?

I remember one Friday night in particular during my marriage. We had been married about 10 years at the time. We had invited my sister and her family over for dinner. She was celebrating a milestone of sorts from her job. I can’t exactly remember what it was…some kind of service award. She had received a plaque! And her husband was so proud of her. My X was complimenting her. She was proud of herself. Rightfully so. And I remember thinking to myself ‘What about me? Where’s my plaque? My recognition?’ I think I even made the mistake of saying it out loud. They all laughed.  My ten years of service wasn’t respected. By my X. By anyone. I was just a stay-at-home mom.

So now I have been on both sides of the trenches. The ‘stay-at-home’ mom and the ‘working-mom.’ They are both hard. Super hard. They both deserve respect. Lot’s of respect. But believe me when I tell you…they both have their perks.

But just so you know…

In my current job…I’m definitely wearing better shoes.👠

 

They’re NOT ready…

IMG_6150

I had a complete mom meltdown yesterday. A tantrum. It was impressive if I don’t say so myself. We all know that being a mom is hard. But I’m handling it. How about a working mom? Ok…maybe a little harder-but I’ve still got this. How about a single working mom? Sigh. It’s ok. I’m fine. Really. I’ll be ready!

But guess who isn’t ready? Ever. No matter what. Let me tell you who. My kids. My three teenage children. They are never ready. The idea of being ready apparently never even crosses their little tiny teenage minds. And it’s making me lose my mind! I am now convinced they don’t know what the word ‘ready‘ even means. And I’m going to absolutely 100% blame them for my meltdown yesterday.

The little darlings were at the X’s over the weekend. But for the record that does not exempt me from my mothering duties. So for the people who say dumb things like…’at least you have the weekend off’…that’s not how this works! In fact- it usually puts me on high alert status. I’m mothering from a satellite location. Text messages, phone call’s and the occasional email. Checking the calendar for activities.  Reminding them of this and that. Talking them through problems. Worrying about stuff I have no control over. Regular mom stuff. From afar.

Sunday night I specifically say to each of my brilliant offspring. “Get to bed early and make sure you have everything ready for tomorrow!”

“We will mom!”they reply. Their halo’s are shining. They are angels. So considerate. So prepared. But I knew better… Sigh.

Fast forward to Monday morning at 8:15 to me standing in the middle of a crowded school parking lot next to son #2’s car. With his car alarm going off. And I have no way of silencing it. Loudly. Incessantly. Honk honk honk honk. It’s screaming ‘look at this dumb-ass mom!’ as loud as it can. ‘She’s late for work!’ it continues. ‘She’s a bad mother!’ ‘Her kids aren’t ready!’ Honk honk honk honk.

This little scenario started at about 7:40 that morning. I am getting ready for work. Since the kids are at the X’s you would think it would be a smooth morning. But I know better. So when the phone rings I’m not surprised. It’s my daughter.

“MOM! All my stuff is in #2’s car. And he left early for a golf meet. And no one told me. I need my stuff. MOM! Can you get the spare key and get my stuff. Please. Mom. Help. And #1 is supposed to take me to school and he is still in bed. And we are going to be late. He won’t get up!! Mom. Mom. Mom…..”

Insert very large sigh here. SIGH. “Where is your dad?” I can’t help myself from asking.

“He’s not here!!! He left early for work!”she is in full on teenage girl freak out mode.

“Tell #1 I said to get out of bed immediately and meet me at your brother’s car. I will get your things.” Because I’m the mom and that’s what I do.

I haul ass and get the spare key and head to the school parking lot. Conveniently located between two schools in the middle of morning drop offs. I foolishly think I will just dart in grab said stuff and hand it over to my waiting daughter. Emphasis on foolishly. Instead I make a fool of myself. I get to the car and my daughter is no where in sight. I have a key to unlock the door to get the binder that has been left carelessly in the back of the vehicle all weekend. (I mean if you don’t even need it why the hell do you bring it home!!!) But as soon as I open the door the alarm goes off. Fuck! And it won’t let me unlock any of the other doors. So I am forced to crawl over the seats, all the way to the very back of the vehicle, to dig out the binder, back pack and lunch box in dress pants and heels. And then I retrace my steps. And did I mention the car alarm?! It is probably scaring little children at the near by school at this point. And sarcastic teenagers honk as they go by just for fun!

So this is where my meltdown comes in. My tantrum. As I stand in shame next to the screaming car I begin an epic text rant to my children. “What the hell is wrong with you guys??! I am so mad at you all! Why can’t you get yourselves ready!! You aren’t babies!! Get organized! Solve your own problems! Come on!!!!” I spend endless time trying to find track uniforms, golf hats, binders, and parent permission forms that are due RIGHT NOW. Dragging teenagers out of bed. Running home on my break to get someones lunch. Looking for one of the 8 million tubes of Chapstick I already bought for you. (But now I can’t find-so lets just go ahead and make it 8 million and one!) Making last-minute runs to Walmart for science projects… It’s endless! It’s exhausting! And it’s me. My life. My mom life.

I was telling this story to some of my friends at work this morning. “At least they call you…”they said. And they are right. I am glad that they do. Really. I love being their mom. They are my pride and joy. I’m glad they know I am here for them…no matter what.

But sometimes. Just sometimes…I need the little dumb-asses to get their shit together.

 

 

 

My number is…

image

I’ve got another question. This one is kind of personal… It hit me this weekend. My BDF (best divorced friend) and I were out of town. She was kind enough to accompany me on a work trip. I was laying in bed and I couldn’t sleep. As usual. And for some reason I started thinking about my ‘number.’ You know…my sex number. How many people I have had sex with. And as I lay there I felt like I was surely forgetting someone. My number seemed small. Unimpressive. Outdated. Boring.

“What’s your number?”I blurted out. The room was dark and she was trying to sleep, but I didn’t care.

“What are you talking about…”she sighed.

“Your sex number.”Obviously!

“What are you talking about?”she repeats herself. You would think she would be getting used to me and my questions by now.

“How many people have you had sex with? Your number. Your sex number.”I explain. “I’ve been thinking about mine…and I think it’s too small. I feel like I must be forgetting someone…”

“What is the criteria?”she asks. She is always so literal.

“People you have had actual intercourse with.Penetration. Penis inside a vagina.” Come on now. It’s an obvious question.

“Are you going to blog about this?”she asks with suspicion. She’s on to me…

So I guess our numbers aren’t really the point. In my opinion we both have a pretty poor showing. We both got married young and were ‘good’ girls. You only had sex with someone you loved. Preferably someone you were going to marry.  We both said our ‘I do’s’ before booty calls, friends with benefits, and casual hook-ups were the norm. But guess what? My perspective has changed…again.  Now I’m wondering what I’ve missed! And I’m pretty sure I’ve missed something. Maybe something good…

Sex is such a sensitive subject. Especially for women. You can be quickly and harshly shamed by society if ‘they’ don’t like your number. You’re a slut if it’s to big…and prude if it’s to small. In my day-in my small town (I say like I’m 100 years old…) if you were a woman-you were supposed to try to keep your number as small as possible. But now that I am a divorced single woman…screw that! (Pun intended.)

I recently watched an old episode of Sex and the City (one of my all-time favorite binge watch while getting divorced shows…) when Miranda had to come up with her number. She had an STD…gulp. Her number was on the larger side. It blows mine out of the water. But I was fascinated! Is this what other women are doing? Having sex just for the fun of having sex? Sex just because if feels good? Without the promise of love or marriage? Without the fear of being called a slut! And this apparently isn’t news. This is an old show. This has obviously been going on for awhile. And I wasn’t paying attention. I was married!

Sex. And your number. It’s an important part of being a woman. It’s an important part of being a divorced woman. Sex is great. As long as the sex is great… But that part is a bit more complicated.

So how about another question. An easier one. How many pairs of shoes do you have? For me…that number is a little bigger.👠

 

 

 

 

 

Perspective…

 

image

It’s a funny thing about perspective isn’t it? It very rarely matches anyone else’s. Your perspective is uniquely your own. Like your fingerprint.  It’s made up of your feelings. Your memories.  Your experiences. Your personality.

Divorce is definitely a he said/she said situation. And if you’re divorced-it’s obvious that they don’t match. Divorce is the ULTIMATE he said/she said situation.  But so is marriage really. You are committed to each other-theoretically.  But each person has their own story. And they believe it! It’s their truth.  It’s their perspective. I remember someone telling me once something about the truth being ‘somewhere in the middle.’ Somewhere between the he and the she. I thought that was a brilliant description! But of course everyone believes their own shit. And a lot of it is shit. But that doesn’t stop us. It’s human nature! And we all know how stupid humans are.  Your ability to respect someone else’s perspective can be the difference between ‘Happily Ever After’ and ‘Fuck Off.’

For me- this blog is my perspective. My opinion. It’s definitely not an autobiography.  It’s not the Gospel. It’s not my diary. It’s just a jumble of my thoughts…my feelings…my humor. Some serious. Some not. Some truth-some fiction?  It just depends on who you ask.  It’s like Wikipedia. It’s informative-but not necessarily a reliable source. (At least according to my kids Language Arts teachers…but for the record I think they are being a little bit picky.) There is nothing groundbreaking here.  It’s like US Weekly-if I was Tori Spelling. (It’s entertainment not news!) Or Facebook-since I’m a middle aged single mom that isn’t even close to famous.  My story is not my X’s. I’m pretty positive he would call bullshit on the whole entire thing. And that’s okay. No surprise there. It’s no different than our marriage. He didn’t like my perspective much then either. And he never thought I was very funny.

But guess what? My divorce has had a few positive things to add to my life. Besides the obvious perk of not being married to someone who doesn’t love you. Someone who finds themselves ‘so unhappy’ and btw… it’s apparently because of you. Divorce can help you find your voice. Find clarity. Find healing. As I tell my kids- every experience is a learning experience. That includes your life falling apart during an unexpected divorce. But maybe with all that pain- opportunity presents itself.

An opportunity to make someone laugh!  Someone think. Or give someone something to do while they are waiting for their name to be called at the doctor’s office. (Or probably more likely-while hiding out in the bathroom just to get a moment to themselves…because they are a divorced single mom…and those moments are hard to come by.) So I have the opportunity to inspire someone who is trying to walk in a brand new pair of divorce shoes. And we all know a new pair of shoes can be uncomfortable at first.

And just so you know. One thing I’m always serious about is my shoes.

 

***And just one more thing to mention. In the divorce WITH children. They have a perspective too. And in the end- it will be the one that really matters.

 

Till death do us part…

IMG_6109

When you are married with children things are as they should be. All is right with the world. You’re an adorable family! Just like you imagined when you walked down the aisle. Divorced WITH children…whole different ballgame. Fasten your seat-belt and enjoy the ride. It’s going to be a long one. I mean you’re divorced. Your marriage failed. You obviously don’t like each other. He thinks you are a bad housekeeper. You know he is a cheater. He’s seen you naked and seemingly wasn’t too impressed. He knows that your car is always dirty and that you can’t sew. You know that he’s cheap and a skilled liar. He doesn’t like cats. And you weren’t too impressed with seeing him naked either… The whole thing was a mistake and it’s time to move on. See ya later asshole. We’re done. Finished. The End.

Wait a minute… What? We’re not done are we. We hate each others guts and I wish you Ebola-but I am going to get to see you twice a week in my driveway picking up kids and dropping off laundry?! I get to continue to talk to you about health insurance and grade cards and holiday schedules and homework? We will continue to fight about money and car insurance and cell phone bills? This is wonderful! Why isn’t everyone getting divorced?  I get to see your smiling face at all the kids’ special events- and you’re bringing the Homewrecker?  This is great! Let me drink a glass (or 3) of Moscato now to celebrate.  Oh wait- now I get to drop off forgotten shoes at your spectacular new home with an in ground pool? (BTW- I wonder if the Homewrecker can swim? I always heard witches melt if they get wet. Just saying.  I’m melting…I’m melting… Sorry. I couldn’t resist.)

This is fucking fantastic!

What a spectacular bonus this is. The list of awkward and infuriating reasons you still have to deal with your X is infinite. You have kids together. And you always will. You are divorced WITH children. And that’s no ordinary breakup. It’s one of those gifts that keep on giving. We are co-parents. That’s still our job. Our duty. Even though we are divorced. We have to make it work. Somehow.  We will see each other at every single event of significance that involves our children. EVER. Band concerts, football games, awards banquets, Proms, graduations, college visits… Imagine yourself in the future at your children’s Weddings. With your X.  Meeting your precious grandchildren. With your X. Everything. With your X.

And guess what else? No really…guess!  Your kids. Those people you love more than anyone else in the entire universe. The ones you and your X brought into this world together.  They get to feel awkward and infuriated too! For life! They are well aware of how you and your X feel about each other. No matter how well you try to hide it. Or not. They know. They’ve lived your story right along with you. They recognize your fake smiles and frozen expressions. They see the pain and anger.  They feel the pain and anger. So no matter how you try to protect them- they are in for the ride as well. Fun, huh?

So… the divorce WITH children. Not for the faint at heart. You and your X are linked together forever. Just like those wedding vows said. Ironic, huh?  I guess it is until death do us part. One way or another.

 

Guess what? I don’t like laundry either…

image

 

My X doesn’t do laundry. I was married to the man for 15ish years. This is no news flash. We are now divorced so whether he does laundry or not is irrelevant to me..right? Wrong answer.

For many years I did the laundry. It was my job. I was a stay at home mom and laundry was my domain. That is a reasonable job assignment..in theory. But what if said laundry ‘doer’ has the flu? What if it’s her birthday? What if the laundress had a recent radiation treatment on her thyroid? What if she is 9 months pregnant with 2 other small children to care for?? This man actually brought me dirty underwear to the hospital once.. I was 7 months pregnant and just had endured a painful surgery. He brought me dirty underwear because there was no one at home to do the laundry…and the ones in my drawer looked way to small for someone as fat as me. (True story- the nurse happened to be in the room and overheard this ‘here’s your dirty underwear’ exchange. She told him he should probably just go ahead and leave now. I remember after he left her standing by my bed patting my hand. I closed my eyes in embarrassment.)

But I digress. My X apparently still doesn’t do laundry. My X and I share custody of 3 children who (get this shocking revelation) wear clothes! They wear clothes that then become dirty…and somehow appear on my front porch in a trash bag. Or I find them stuffed in one of my kids suitcases. For me to wash! To say it pisses me off is an understatement. I promise you I’m not sending dirty laundry to his house! It brings back clearly the way it made me feel when I was married to him. My job was the manual labor. I did the dirty work of parenting. The dirty clothes, dirty diapers and dirty dishes. That wasn’t in his job description. He worked. He made money. He was important. And I was lucky to have him-obviously. I was the housekeeper. And nanny. It wasn’t that hard of a job, right? Anyone could do it. I was like the hired help. (And btw…he was perpetually unimpressed. I was like the hired help who was constantly afraid I was going to get fired.) My job had no value-because he could pay anyone to do it. And do it better! Housekeepers and nanny’s are easy to find. And probably cheaper and less needy than a wife. My X did not respect me as a housewife. (Because remember-I wasn’t Martha Stewart…or his mother). And judging by the dirty laundry he sends back with his children every week…his lack of respect obviously continues.

But I have news flash for my X. I don’t like laundry either. I fucking hate it to be exact. Sometimes my laundry pile is so big you could lose a small child in it. I think I actually have lost a small child in it before. I know for sure I once lost a turtle… (Don’t worry-everyone’s fine). But you know what? I put on my big girl shoes and do the damn laundry anyway. And I make my kids help! It’s just what you do. Because being a family takes teamwork. And that is something my X doesn’t understand…

And if you haven’t already guessed…my ‘big girl’ shoes are fierce.👠

I have a question…

 

image

I have a  couple questions for the Homewrecker. Some things I really want to know. They are pretty simple really…

Who do you think you are? What the hell were you thinking? Was it the excitement? The attention?  His money? What was it? Why? Seriously. I am 100% positive it wasn’t the sex. Or his looks. My bet is on the money…

You knew he was married. You were married! You knew he had children. So for the life of me I just don’t understand how you made it ok in your head. I can’t even fathom crossing that kind of boundary. It’s not ok. Ever. While you were engaged in your exciting illicit affair- he had kids at home asking where there daddy was. Pretty sexy, huh?

The first time I met the Homewrecker she was standing in my foyer. With her husband.  At our Christmas Party. We made small talk. Can you believe that shit? She was a woman my X worked with- and he wanted to invite her to our holiday ‘get together.’ And the Homewrecker happily accepted. Apparently thrilled!  She complimented our beautiful home. I vividly remember her commenting on our wedding photo’s hanging in the front hall. I remember it going something sort of like this…

“What a lovely home you have! So warm and inviting,” she gushed.

“Thank you. It’s a work in progress. But we enjoy it!”

“Oh…look at the pictures! How beautiful your dress was,” she said while admiring them with her husband. Her focus changed to the other pictures hanging in the front hall. “And these must be your children. How cute.”

“Thank you. You are so sweet!  Please come in and help yourself to something to drink. You can put your coat in the bedroom.” I was in full on hostess mode.

What balls this woman had! In my home. With her husband. I’m pretty sure she was already screwing mine. If not yet-she soon would be. It makes me furious to think about it. I opened my home to her. And she walked right in the front door with her head held high. No shame. How narcissistic can one person be? Isn’t there some kind of limit to the amount of selfishness one human being can have? Apparently not…

My X and the Homewrecker had, and continue to have, a relationship based on lies. I’m sure they don’t see it that way. But I do. Lie after lie.  Not only the lies that they told to others. Which are way too numerous to count. “I’m sorry. I will be late…I have to work.” “I have to leave by 5am tomorrow to meet with the drivers at work.” “I just need some space.” The lies they told to each other. Also very plentiful.  “No, I’m not sleeping with my husband anymore.” “My wife is so hard to get along with. She treats me terrible.”  But in my opinion- the most dangerous lies they told were to themselves. The ones they used to justify their hurtful behavior. “I’m so unhappy…I deserve this.” “She is such a disappointment…she will never be enough.” “I work so hard…I need some fun.” “I tried as hard as I could. I gave my all.” Those lies ended two marriages.

So again, I ask. Who do you think you are? I can tell you what I see if you want. You probably don’t care to much what I think. But I think I will tell you anyway. Just for fun. I see a narcissistic woman with no moral integrity. I see someone who hurt my children deeply with her actions. Someone that changed their world completely. (And not for the better-no matter what lie you tell yourself.)  You are selfish and self-serving. Dishonest and disloyal. You deserve a scarlet letter. Of course all of this is just my opinion.  And let me not forget to point out one more very important opinion…you wear ugly fucking shoes.👠

 

(And for the record- I have similar questions for my X-I know it takes two to tango. But I will leave those questions for another day. Today is all about you. Just like you like it…)

Hindsight’s 20/20, right?

image

I recently attended a wedding with my BDF. Things were running a little behind. No one had cold feet they assured us- but they were running late. As we sat patiently in the pews waiting for the ceremony to begin- the woman in front of us turned around tried to make small talk.

“What’s the best memory you have of your wedding?” she asked innocently. She was sitting next her husband. Arm in arm. Obviously very happily married.

I of course wasn’t prepared for the question.  In fact it shocked me a little. “I try never to think about my wedding” was my honest reply. Maybe a little too honest. It was her turn to look a little shocked.

“I had a lovely wedding,” replied my BDF. Trying to smooth things over.

As the woman began to describe her wedding memories I wondered why I couldn’t answer that question with a positive response-like my BDF. In fact I have avoided all thoughts of my wedding. I have never unpacked any photo albums since I moved into my new house. My china is in storage boxes. I have no idea where my wedding dress ended up. And my ring is buried at the bottom of my jewelry box.

In all fairness my wedding was lovely. My dress was beautiful. My friends and family were supportive. The flowers were gorgeous. My cake was delicious. My shoes were spectacular! But I married the wrong man. I didn’t know that at the time. At the time I thought he was perfect. (Okay- maybe not perfect. But I thought he was the ‘one.’)  Now that I know he wasn’t…I can’t think of my wedding day with a nostalgic smile like the woman sitting in front of me. Instead- I feel sad. And mad. And a bit embarrassed- I should have known better.

What I wouldn’t give to tell 21 year old me a few things! There were definite clues that he wasn’t the one. In fact-in retrospect-it was pretty fucking obvious. I was just too young and naive to know better. So I made a mental list as a sat in that pew. Just a few things I wish I would have paid closer attention too. Maybe it would have made a difference!  You know what they say. Hind sight is 20/20, right?

#1 My X had been married before. This wasn’t his first rodeo. Definitely a big red flag!  He didn’t have too much to say about his first marriage. Just that the divorce wasn’t his fault of course. His first wife was bad with money and not very respectful of him. Ironic isn’t it that she and I apparently had that in common…

#2 The X had a kind of 1950’s fantasy about marriage. He would be in charge. I would not be. He would drink a jack and coke (or 3) every single night, smoke heavily, and retire to the living room after dinner while I did the dishes. Wednesday night was always ‘men’s night.’ A conveniently built in weekly play date with the guys…or your mistress.  (Again- the man must have been in love with Don Draper. Every time I watch Mad Men I imagine my X in raptures over it. I bet it’s like porn to him.)

#3 My Mother-in-Law. Never underestimate the power of a bad MIL. And mine was the worst. From day one she was difficult. The moment he proposed she was hard to please.  Honestly, she was the worst MIL in the history of MIL. I am not exaggerating!  She was controlling, jealous, moody, unkind, and judgmental.  The single best thing about my divorce is that I never have to deal with that woman again. Let the Homewrecker have her. Those bitches deserve each other.

#4 My X really couldn’t wrap himself around the sharing part. Specifically-sharing his money. He worked. I didn’t. Never mind that I was the full time mom to his three children. Never mind that he said that is what he wanted. Never mind that he made 6 figures. That wasn’t the point. I wasn’t pulling in a paycheck. And he didn’t like sharing his.

#5 He was a control freak. And control freak’s don’t play well with others. Even if they are married. My counselor after my divorce was one of the first people to successfully explain to me that he was a narcissist. (So control freak doesn’t even cut it…) And that is a personality trait that was always there…and always will be. Another gift for the home wrecker! Your welcome. (Or do two narcissists cancel each other out? Hmmm.)

You can’t go back. It’s not that easy. I always tell my children that every life experience is a learning experience. Hopefully someday I will be able to forgive myself for not making a better choice for a husband-and not look back to my wedding day with regret. I do have three pretty great parting gifts to show for it!

And btw…I do know where those wedding shoes are.👠