Tag: moving on

This picture is a lie…

image

I received a text about something that I have been ‘putting off’ from one of my mom friends last night. Not really purposely putting off. There was no ‘screw that’ I’m not going to do it. I have had the best intentions! I promise!  I just haven’t been able to focus on it yet. I haven’t been able to pull my big girl panties up high enough I guess.  There has been a lot going on lately and I hate to say it…but I have been a bit overwhelmed. My oldest son is graduating from High School. It is an exciting and emotional time. I still remember my High School graduation like it was yesterday-so it seems a bit surprising that I am old enough to have a son graduating now. But all it takes is a quick look in the mirror to bring me back to the all too real reality. I’m definitely old enough.

“We need your pictures. The ones for the kids video,” she texted. We are having a graduation party next weekend with a group of his friends, and part of the plan is to have a slideshow with pictures of each of the graduates. I know my son will love it. All I have to do is come up with 20 photos for our part.

“When?” I text back with a sigh. Wondering how long I have…

“Yesterday.”

“Great!” I reply. Shit. Perfect. Of course.

So it should be easy right? Come on now. Get some pictures together! Call it done. But it’s not that easy. Not for me. Not even close. I have a hard time with pictures. I haven’t even unpacked them from their box since the divorce. They are hidden away deep in the back of a closet in the basement. I never had the nerve to tackle them since the move. Digging through boxes of photos, notes, and mementos of my married life has never sounded very appealing. In fact, it seems painful. And pain is something I tend to avoid.

Family pictures are a wonderful thing. They are snapshots of your life together. Usually the best times of your life! They show birthdays, holidays, milestones, and special occasions. When your child learns to ride their bike you grab your camera. It’s the first day of kindergarten, let’s take a picture! They tell a story of a beautiful, happy, and fun life!  But apparently that isn’t the life we were really living…

There are no pictures of the fights. There are no photos of the resentment and hurt feelings. Nowhere in those pictures does it show how much time my X spent away from home. There is no evidence of a house that wasn’t kept clean enough. No one grabbed a camera the night I found out about the affair, or the day that he left. Those things are only recorded in my memories. And those memories aren’t as easy to pack away as the box of pictures.

For me it’s hard to separate the pictures from my memories. Each picture brings with it a flood of emotions.  When I run across any old photos I tend to search them carefully. Trying to find clues for what was to come. I often have said that when my world came crashing down it felt like the life I had been building was a lie. The foundation was made of sand. A picture popped up recently on Facebook of our family several years ago. It was a nice picture. My X and I were smiling and standing in my sister’s kitchen. And my first thought was that in this picture he has a girlfriend. A girlfriend that he eventually will leave us for. This picture is a lie. And that hurts.

Thankfully for them I think my kids see it differently. They like the photos. They find comfort remembering their childhood. They like to reminisce about when we were all together. My daughter loves to hear stories about our Wedding, the day she was born and about what her brothers were like when they were small. It’s all part of her story! And her brothers feel the same way. I think it’s every child’s secret wish that their divorced parents will someday reunite…so they like looking at the good times. They don’t remember the struggles between the X and me. They were little kids!

So tonight I will pull up my big girl panties, wear my high heels and dig through those damn boxes. I won’t like it. I will hate it. And I may even cry.

But I love my Son. And he does look pretty cute in those pictures…

 

 

What are your plans for the summer…

image

I had a long talk with a friend this morning. One that made me feel slightly less alone with my ‘single divorced mom’ situation. She is a single mom with kid…like me. And she was lamenting about her X. And the incredible struggle she was having making her summer plans. Because of…you know…the ‘visitation schedule.’

“You won’t believe the text I got from my X last night,” she sighs as she scrolls through her phone.

“What about?” I ask with concern. I know from experience it could be anything.

“Summer.” she replies.

“Ahh.” I understand immediately. Enough said. The fucking visitation schedule.

The visitation schedule is always a pain in the ass. To say I hate it doesn’t do my feelings justice.  It is literally the number one reason that I have to look at my calendar daily. Not to keep track of meetings at work. Not to keep from missing my dentists appointments. Not to make sure I don’t forget anyone’s birthday. But the number one reason I look at my calendar every single day is to figure out where the hell my kids are going to be from day to day, week to week, and month to month.  When someone asks me a simple question like ‘hey do you want to get tickets to take the kids to a baseball game May 11th’ I can’t say ‘sure that sounds fun!’ Instead I have to reply with ‘let me check my calendar and see if I will have the kids.’ The visitation schedule is like an unwanted member of the family. It is what my oldest son would call an ‘attention whore.’ And we all know how I feel about whores…

But summer adds a whole new level of fun to the deal!  It’s why when people ask me the innocent question ‘What are your plans for the summer’ I get a lump in my throat. My naive and innocent love of  summer evaporated with my marriage. My X gets 2 weeks’ vacation with the kids every summer. Seems reasonable right? Totally reasonable!  And in theory it is…  But my X does something extra special fun with his 14 days. His 336 hours. He breaks them up into tiny pieces and then strategically places them in between his normal visitation days. This allows him to do fun things like take all of the weekends. Or keep them 5-6 days in a row. It lets him disrupt the kids schedule in the absolutely most intrusive way possible. I don’t think he could make it more inconvenient for his children if he tried. But I think he is trying.  Maybe he just sees it as an inconvenience to me. But if he thinks that, he couldn’t be more wrong.  It’s fucking awful.

I know the intention of the 2 weeks’ vacation that my X received after our divorce. I was there. In all those meetings. With all those lawyers. I was part of the discussion. And I remember it clearly. The intention of those 2 weeks was so the X could take them on trips. Fabulous uninterrupted vacations. So they could do something great together. For 2 weeks in a row… But that is not how my X works. He has calculated to the exact hour what time he is ‘owed’ and he plans to use it in a way that maximizes the time his children are spent away from me. They are without the comfort of their normal schedules. They never understand it and they refuse to try. It’s their way of protesting the whole damn thing. And who can blame them. They didn’t ask to be slaves to a calendar!

So yay! It’s summer! Isn’t this fun…☀️

 

***And I have to be honest about something. The other reason I hate summer.  Or how about the real reason I hate summer.  I’m alone. My kids are gone and I miss them. I hate summer…and divorce.

Of course I love you…

image

I have another question. And this one isn’t about sex. Not this time. It is about a relationship. Specifically, it is about one of my relationships. I was having a ‘discussion’ with someone important to me recently and I made this statement.

“Actions speak louder than words” I informed him passionately. It’s something I have always heard. And that I have always believed. I was confident in my statement.

“Words speak louder than actions” was his reply.

“Huh???” I don’t think so… What are you talking about? I have never seen that on a bumper sticker. But as the days have gone by I have thought about his statement more than once. Which is it? Who’s right? Who’s wrong?  Is there a right answer? So you know that I of course Googled it. And Google seemed to agree with me. There are many songs and poems written about it. They seem to agree with me. My friends all say that they agree with me. But I’m still trying to be opened minded. To see his side. Can it go both ways?

My experiences with ‘words only’ haven’t been that great I have to admit. Have you ever heard of a lie? I have. Words are easy. They can be a quick fix. ‘Of course I love you!’ A well placed I love you can heal a lot of things. Saying I love you is a crucial part of a successful relationship. It’s definitely something I want to hear. Need to hear. Something that I love to hear! But it’s also something that I don’t always believe… I’m sure that my X told me he loved me thousands of times over the course of our marriage. But guess what? He didn’t. (That’s why we are divorced…) We have all heard it before. Words are cheap. And that’s why they can’t always be trusted. People can easily manipulate you with words. Even when they don’t mean too… ‘I am your person.’ ‘I think you are beautiful.’ ‘You make me laugh.’ ‘I miss you.’ All these things are nice to hear. Important to hear! They can diffuse a fight and make the difference between a good and bad day.  But in my mind they don’t hold a candle to action.

Nothing makes me feel more loved than lying in bed with someone who unconsciously reaches over to touch you. Maybe even while they are sleeping. Just to make sure that you are still there. They are checking to see that you are okay. They want to feel you next to them. Hear you breathing.  Being held at night by someone who loves you can be one of the safest feelings in the world. It is an action that speaks volumes about how someone feels about you. How important you are to them. Or how about when you are sitting quietly at home with someone you love and you notice them staring at you-their expression filled with love. Even when you have no make-up on and your hair is a mess. What a beautiful thing. Those spontaneous and unrehearsed actions are priceless.

But what about what ‘he’ said. About the words. Does he have a point? Maybe for some people saying the words is difficult! I have heard stories from people who say that their mothers never actually said the words ‘I love you’ to them. That seems crazy to me! I assume that these mothers showed it through their actions. Let’s hope! But I bet those children longed to hear those three simple words from their mothers.

So is that the answer? Does it have to be a combination of both? Do we all just want what we don’t have? Or are we both right?? Maybe the most important thing is just making sure the person you love is getting what they need. Even when you don’t understand it. Maybe it’s about balance. It’s not just saying I value you…its about showing it as well.

Like all my questions…this one is complicated.

So I guess that leads me to another question. How do you guys feel about compromise??👠

Bravo to her…

image.jpeg

It’s Mother’s Day. Happy Mother’s Day!

I have to admit it’s a strange holiday for me. It always has been. During my marriage Mother’s Day tended to revolve around my mother-in-law. It was a holiday she didn’t love sharing… My X wasn’t to passionate about providing a wonderful Mother’s Day experience for me either. I think even he was a bit exhausted by his own mothers need to be Queen of the Day. And let’s not forget- he really didn’t like me that much. I had an ugly memory pop in my head recently of a mother’s day about 12 years ago. Actually the Saturday night before. I had three small children under the age of six. In general I was exhausted. We got in a fight about my lack of ‘housekeeping skills.’ And he bitterly told me something I still think about to this day. More often than I should. ‘We should sell this house and buy a trailer. That’s the only kind of home you deserve. You aren’t cut out for this.’ Happy fucking mother’s day to me…

This weekend my oldest friend (not elderly-just friends since kindergarten) posted a picture of her kitchen on Facebook. And it wasn’t one of ‘those’ pictures of a ‘perfect’ kitchen. Not the kind of picture that makes me want to drive to that woman’s house, ring her doorbell and literally smack her in the face. Hard. It was a real picture! Of a (gasp) messy kitchen. With newspapers, binders, pictures, lists, clutter, dishes. You know. Stuff. Life. Real life. And it was spectacular. Bravo to her. She got comment after comment saying ‘Thank you! That’s just what I needed to see today.’ What a perfect celebration of motherhood.

For me allowing people in my home is almost the equivalent to letting them see me naked. It’s my home. My life. My personal space. And when it comes to opening the front door…I have issues. Especially with men. If you are a man in my house at this point in my life…I really must like you. More than that, I trust you. It’s not that I have any horrible secret to hide. My house is what I consider pretty normal for a single working mom with three kids. Or for any mom for that matter. It’s not perfect. I gave up perfect a long time ago. But I spent most of my marriage being made to feel ‘less’ because of my X’s disappoint in my homemaking skills.

Being a mom is messy. It’s hard. Kids are like little tiny tornados of clutter. That turn into teenagers. Who are big giant tornados of clutter. It’s impossible to keep up. At least every minute. Sometimes your just too tired. Or too busy. Or you just don’t give a shit. Sometimes other stuff is more important. Like watching TV. Or drinking a glass of wine. Or doing nothing.

I have had some women tell me some pretty impressive  ‘things’ over the years. Things that stuck with me. And made me feel like a shitty wife and mother. Things that reinforced my X’s disappointment in me. Things that made me think maybe he was right. I remember years ago a woman telling me she couldn’t go to sleep at night until all of her son’s action figures were placed neatly on the shelf in her son’s room. Each figure holding his accessories and facing forward. And did I mention that her sons room looked like a bedroom from a model home? Not like something a real boy lived in. Definitely not like my boy’s room. I remember just nodding in agreement while thinking…’WTF are you talking about? You really do that?’ Another perfect mom told me that everything in her refrigerator had to be facing forward neatly at all times. Otherwise her whole day would be ruined! Ruined I tell you! And yet another mommy dearest who hand washed and dried all her daughter’s clothes to keep them looking ‘nice’ longer. She didn’t trust her own washer and dryer. I think she might have been a robot.

I’m tired of seeing pictures on Facebook that make it look like most of the people I know live in a Pottery Barn catalog. It exhausts me. It’s to perfect. And perfect makes me nervous… I don’t trust it. I think that life is messy. Chaotic. Busy. And that’s okay. Life is about what is happening in that kitchen. Not how nice it looks. Who cares about the clutter?! Seriously. Who fucking cares. This is not some competition ladies! If you are judging people by their how their kitchen looks- I don’t think we can be friends. Or at least I don’t want to be. Not anymore.

So cheers to my oldest friend! You win the award today for most awesome. Today I want to be wearing your shoes…👠

Except for the sex part…

image

When I decided to start blogging I only told a few of the people closest to me. I wanted to keep it on the down low.  I wasn’t writing for them. Or for my X. I was writing for me. And for people like me. The ones wearing divorce shoes. But those that I did talk to about it were very supportive.

“How cool!” they said. “It will be just like Sex and the City.”

“Umm…sure.” I hesitantly replied.  “Except for the sex part. And the city part. But I guess there is the shoe thing…”

When married people imagine your single life-I think they assume the sex part is great. You are a single adult-and why wouldn’t it be? And on that note, I have a couple of questions. Again. Just some things I’ve been thinking about. It’s totally not about me. Or my BDF (best divorced friend).  Really. I promise. It’s more of an ‘I’m just wondering’ question. And it is about sex.  I’m a 40ish year old woman. I’m supposed to be having the best sex of my life. I think. I heard that once and I guess it kind of stuck with me. It made me believe I still had time while I was married. It gave me hope.

If you aren’t having sex with someone you are dating… are you really dating? Or are you just friends? And I’m not talking about the mandatory time you wait before you start having sex with someone you just started seeing. If you even have one. (And for the record I know that is different for everyone. No judgment here.) What I’m asking is- if someone doesn’t want to have sex with you do they really even like you ‘that way’…or are you just friends? Are you a placeholder while they find someone else that they do want to have sex with? Is it that they are ‘just not that into you.’ (Literally…) And you are just ‘hanging out’?  Is this situation going anywhere? It’s so confusing. I mean are you going to find your soul mate in a person who isn’t attracted to you in a sexual way. With a man that doesn’t make intimacy (with you) a priority. Because guess what? I want intimacy. I think sex is pretty damn important. And I’m not the only woman who thinks so. At least I don’t think I am… That’s why I’m asking these questions!

Let me back track a little. Back to my marriage.  And my X. Obviously the sex wasn’t that great. I mean when we had sex it wasn’t terrible. But in my opinion we didn’t have enough. Every once in a while it was pretty good. But it definitely wasn’t ever mind blowing. Mainly- because it wasn’t a priority. For my X. And I was too embarrassed-or ashamed- to make it a priority for me.  For me that lack of intimacy represented rejection. It made me feel unattractive, unimportant and unloved.  All kinds of ‘un’s’. And with those ‘un’s’ my self-esteem plummeted. And my resentment grew.  Now-to make it worse- I know that it wasn’t that my X was too tired, or stressed, or unhappy to have sex. Because guess what? He was having sex. Just not with me! I was the only one missing out…

So maybe that’s my real concern now that I think about it. If they aren’t having sex with you are they having sex with someone else? Because I don’t think I could survive that again. Being someone’s second choice is too painful. (Or third or fourth choice… Depending on who you ask.)

Can you believe I’m a single divorced woman in my 40’s and still haven’t figured this shit out? I’m still worried about sex. And my numbers. (How many/how often). My gut tells me that if someone isn’t interested in you that way-its time to move on. But I don’t know… It’s so complicated! Maybe there is no ‘right’ answer.

But I just thought I would ask…

 

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

 

 

 

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.👠

 

 

 

 

 

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.

 

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.👠