Tag: parenting

Can’t we just be friends??

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“Single men and women can’t be friends. The possibility of sex always gets in the way…”

At least according to my brother-in-law. (And I’m assuming he must of watched ‘When Harry Met Sally’ at some point, because I’m pretty sure that’s where the quote comes from…) I remember him telling me this after my divorce. I was talking to him about a man who was texting me. “We are just friends,” I told him with confidence. “We have been through a lot of similar shit. He’s divorced. His wife cheated on him. We are practically soul sisters!”

“Nope…your not.”he insisted. “He’s sniffing around to see where you stand and what his chances are. He doesn’t want to be your friend. Don’t be naive.”

God I hate it when people tell me I am naive. I thought he was wrong. In fact-I was positive he was wrong. I rolled my eyes silently. I mean we are adults. We can easily be friends. I don’t care if he is a man. I don’t want to have sex with every single (emphasis on single) man I have a conversation with. In fact- I want to have sex with almost none of them. And not every single man wants to have sex with me!

But I have been divorced for awhile now. And it does seem a little more complicated than I originally thought. (It turns out- that first man after the divorce I was texting with. He wanted to be more than friends. So our texting relationship came to an end…) So what the hell is going on? I can’t tell anymore. I have had several friendships in the last few years that eventually resulted in one of those awkward moments where you walk away feeling confused. Or if you mention this ‘male friend’ in passing to someone more than once, everyone assumes that it must be something more. They nod and smile in the most annoying ways. And then there is the dreaded text message that seems a little weird. You find yourself reading it out loud to one of your friends…repeatedly… just to see what they think. And that’s what happened recently.

“He used the word friendship and said I was a sensual woman in the same message…is that weird?”I ask my brother-in-law. I had just received some new messages from a friend and I was struggling with deciphering the intent. My brother-in-law is definitely not usually my ‘go-to’ expert, but I was desperate. And…all my girlfriends were currently unavailable. And…I was drinking wine. Maybe a male perspective wouldn’t hurt?! Plus-I could always run it by my girls later.

“Yes…it’s weird. He doesn’t want to be your friend.” Case closed apparently. He doesn’t seem interested in engaging in the ‘minimum of 20 minute’ discussion that my BDF (Best Divorced Friend) would give me. He doesn’t ask for the entire run down of every interaction we have ever had. He doesn’t care what shoes I was wearing when I met my male friend the first time. He doesn’t even ask the guys name! (And he probably knows I wouldn’t tell him anyway…) He is confident in his assessment of the situation with minimal information.

“Let me read it again.”I insist.”And this time take note of how he say’s he wants to have a female friend…” I don’t think my brother-in-law is really trying to see it from both sides. I already know what he thinks of male and female relationships. But he doesn’t know what it’s like to be single in your 40’s. He doesn’t know everything! So I find myself trying to convince him anyway. Or maybe I’m trying to convince myself. Can’t we just be friends?? I refuse to give up on that!

“You don’t need to read it again,”he interrupts.”I heard exactly what he was saying. The man typed the word sensual. I can’t even remember the last time I’ve used that word in a sentence. Let alone sent it in a message to one of my friends.”

“But he also used the word friends! Several times actually. Specifically- female friendship. That’s pretty clear!” I refuse to give up. “And did I tell you I was wearing boots the first time we talked? They are a very friendly shoe.” He rolls his eyes…

“Let me know how that works out for you…”He isn’t giving up either. Imagine that. We can’t agree.

The truth is…I would love to have a male friend. Especially a single one. I think it would be brilliant. I imagine some really great guy who is living the same life as me. As a divorced, single, working parent. Just waiting to be my friend. I think it could fill a big void in my life.  Having an honest male perspective from someone who isn’t related to me could be ground breaking in my ‘single working mom’ world. And in return I could offer him an honest female perspective. Without any ulterior motives. Just friendship. We would be each others secret weapons! Super-single friends to the rescue!

So I will keep hoping. I think the right single man is out there waiting to be found. To be my Best Male Friend (BMF)…

Plus- I really like men. Especially when I’m not married to them…👠

 

(PS…as for my friend who thinks I’m sensual. I’ll let you know how that one turns out. I still think it has potential. He may be the one…)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The third time isn’t necessarily a charm…

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“So dad is getting married this week…” My oldest son informs me with minimal emotion. He’s always the bearer of ‘bad’ news when it comes to things about the X. (I sometimes imagine my 3 kids having their ‘secret meetings’ to discuss whatever current topic they are forced to deal with due to the misfortune of being ‘children of divorce’. I can see them holed up in someones bedroom deciding among themselves who will break the news. And I am sure all eyes always fall immediately to son #1. That’s what happens when you are the oldest). I know he hasn’t been looking forward to telling me. He probably doesn’t know what to expect. And who can blame him. I usually don’t know what to expect either when it comes to my X.  It’s complicated. Not in the ‘I still have feelings for him’ way. More like ‘I still can’t wrap my head around what he did to us’ way. His affair and our divorce still affect the kids and I ever single day. It was life changing.

“Oh.” I reply. Also with minimal emotion. And it isn’t an act. I feel minimally about it initially. I know it deserves minimal consideration on my part. But like I said- it’s complicated. It doesn’t really change anything I rationalize to myself. I don’t envy his upcoming marriage.  I know he and the homewrecker are getting exactly what they deserve in each other. A relationship that starts from lies will end in lies…eventually. However, my first clear feeling is surprising. I feel sorry for him! I can’t believe that he is so weak. Why get married? For the third time? To the homewrecker?? I am surprised by his apparent fear of being alone. I am surprised by his inability to be an independent man. I am surprised by his inability to put the children first. He knows his children do not have a good relationship with the homewrecker- but even that doesn’t dissuade him. I’m sure someone along the way has mentioned to him that the third time isn’t necessarily a charm.

My mind drifts back to a similar conversation my son and I had several years ago when the X got engaged. It was almost Christmas and I was wrapping gifts at the kitchen table when son #1 showed up unexpectedly. He was supposed to be at the X’s. He got straight to the point.

“Dad is engaged. They’re getting married. We just thought you should know.”

My reaction surprised both of us. I burst into tears. Which is not my normal reaction to anything. I excused myself immediately to my bathroom to pull myself together. My son followed me. He was worried.

“Mom- it will be OK. You don’t want to be with him anyway.” He reasoned. “You are so much better off now. And none of us kids are going to have anything to do with it…”

“I am OK. Really.” I try to reassure him. “I just need a minute. I don’t even know why I’m crying! I don’t even miss your dad. It was just a surprise I guess. It’s complicated. It just seems like somehow after everything they have done-they are winning…”

“Trust me mom. They aren’t winning anything.” Truer words were never spoken. And those came from a 17 year old boy.

That was two-ish years ago. I’ve come a really long way since then. (And so have the kids…) I mean I’ve walked countless ’emotional miles’ in my divorce shoes. I have gained perspective and strength. I have found healing and independence.  I think I am stronger now than I ever have been. I don’t need a relationship to make me happy. I definitely don’t need a marriage. I find it fascinating that my X does. Why did this man ever intimidate me?

My focus returns to the present. To the X’s upcoming marriage. To the homewrecker. I feel the surprising need to giggle.

“Do you know any details?”I can’t help myself from asking. I’m curious.

“Nope.” He replies flatly. “And I don’t care about it. It’s his deal. Not mine.”

“Yep.” I reply. He’s right. It is ‘his’ deal. But it’s a little teeny tiny bit my deal too. I was married to the man for 15 years. I walked down the aisle in a beautiful dress and promised myself to him for better or for worse. We have 3 beautiful children together. We will always be linked together. Whether we like it or not. Or wait a minute…

Maybe not. Maybe these upcoming nuptials are all him. And the Homewreckers. I really don’t want anything to do with it anyway. Except I have to admit…I can’t wait to see how it turns out.

Like I said before. It’s exactly what they deserve…👠

 

 

 

Can’t we just be friends??

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“Single men and women can’t be friends. The possibility of sex always gets in the way…”

At least according to my brother-in-law. (And I’m assuming he must of watched ‘When Harry Met Sally’ at some point, because I’m pretty sure that’s where the quote comes from…) I remember him telling me this after my divorce. I was talking to him about a man who was texting me. “We are just friends,” I told him with confidence. “We have been through a lot of similar shit. He’s divorced. His wife cheated on him. We are practically soul sisters!”

“Nope…your not.”he insisted. “He’s sniffing around to see where you stand and what his chances are. He doesn’t want to be your friend. Don’t be naive.”

God I hate it when people tell me I am naive. I thought he was wrong. In fact-I was positive he was wrong. I rolled my eyes silently. I mean we are adults. We can easily be friends. I don’t care if he is a man. I don’t want to have sex with every single (emphasis on single) man I have a conversation with. In fact- I want to have sex with almost none of them. And not every single man wants to have sex with me!

But I have been divorced for awhile now. And it does seem a little more complicated than I originally thought. (It turns out- that first man after the divorce I was texting with. He wanted to be more than friends. So our texting relationship came to an end…) So what the hell is going on? I can’t tell anymore. I have had several friendships in the last few years that eventually resulted in one of those awkward moments where you walk away feeling confused. Or if you mention this ‘male friend’ in passing to someone more than once, everyone assumes that it must be something more. They nod and smile in the most annoying ways. And then there is the dreaded text message that seems a little weird. You find yourself reading it out loud to one of your friends…repeatedly… just to see what they think. And that’s what happened recently.

“He used the word friendship and said I was a sensual woman in the same message…is that weird?”I ask my brother-in-law. I had just received some new messages from a friend and I was struggling with deciphering the intent. My brother-in-law is definitely not usually my ‘go-to’ expert, but I was desperate. And…all my girlfriends were currently unavailable. And…I was drinking wine. Maybe a male perspective wouldn’t hurt?! Plus-I could always run it by my girls later.

“Yes…it’s weird. He doesn’t want to be your friend.” Case closed apparently. He doesn’t seem interested in engaging in the ‘minimum of 20 minute’ discussion that my BDF (Best Divorced Friend) would give me. He doesn’t ask for the entire run down of every interaction we have ever had. He doesn’t care what shoes I was wearing when I met my male friend the first time. He doesn’t even ask the guys name! (And he probably knows I wouldn’t tell him anyway…) He is confident in his assessment of the situation with minimal information.

“Let me read it again.”I insist.”And this time take note of how he say’s he wants to have a female friend…” I don’t think my brother-in-law is really trying to see it from both sides. I already know what he thinks of male and female relationships. But he doesn’t know what it’s like to be single in your 40’s. He doesn’t know everything! So I find myself trying to convince him anyway. Or maybe I’m trying to convince myself. Can’t we just be friends?? I refuse to give up on that!

“You don’t need to read it again,”he interrupts.”I heard exactly what he was saying. The man typed the word sensual. I can’t even remember the last time I’ve used that word in a sentence. Let alone sent it in a message to one of my friends.”

“But he also used the word friends! Several times actually. Specifically- female friendship. That’s pretty clear!” I refuse to give up. “And did I tell you I was wearing boots the first time we talked? They are a very friendly shoe.” He rolls his eyes…

“Let me know how that works out for you…”He isn’t giving up either. Imagine that. We can’t agree.

The truth is…I would love to have a male friend. Especially a single one. I think it would be brilliant. I imagine some really great guy who is living the same life as me. As a divorced, single, working parent. Just waiting to be my friend. I think it could fill a big void in my life.  Having an honest male perspective from someone who isn’t related to me could be ground breaking in my ‘single working mom’ world. And in return I could offer him an honest female perspective. Without any ulterior motives. Just friendship. We would be each others secret weapons! Super-single friends to the rescue!

So I will keep hoping. I think the right single man is out there waiting to be found. To be my Best Male Friend (BMF)…

Plus- I really like men. Especially when I’m not married to them…👠

(PS…as for my friend who thinks I’m sensual. I’ll let you know how that one turns out. I still think it has potential. He may be the one…)

 

Don’t make direct eye contact…

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I have three children. Two boys back to back…followed up a little later by a precious little girl. We all oohed and awed when she was born. So sweet. So easy. So quiet. So self contained. Little did I know she was a tiny little ticking time bomb. She was wearing adorable pink bows and efficiently wrapping everyone around her little finger…while she bided her time.

When my boys were little I was a stay-at-home mother. In addition to my own two little critters- I was blessed to babysit my nephew while my sister worked. Three…lets call them ‘lively’…boys under the age of four. It was without a doubt the most exhausting thing I have ever endured. My standard uniform of a sweatshirt, mom jeans and keds was complimented nicely by my unbrushed hair and quiet desperation. And this was before I discovered wine. Don’t get me wrong. It was awesome. I wouldn’t trade it for the world. But damn I was tired. Day after day of unexplained messes, lost shoes, overflowing sinks, fights, naked boys in the yard, and broken things. To many broken things to mention. Lets all have a moment of silence for all those innocent things that died premature and needless deaths at the hands of my three little terrors… RIP vase that belonged to my Grandmother for like 100 years, baseball shaped ceiling fan (why wouldn’t you hit that with a bat…geez), TV remotes, guitars, toys, the washing machine… There are to many victims to mention. Sniff sniff.

I can remember thinking it would be easier to take three small goats to the grocery store than those boys. And I would probably receive fewer stares. Sigh. Every evening my X came home and glanced around with his condescending ‘what the hell do you do around here all day’ look while he poured himself another drink. I would reply with my obligatory sigh of frustration. At the time I thought I was enduring the most trying time in parenting. If I could make it through that I could make it through anything.

But I was naive. So naive… I now have a 13 year old girl. The shit just got real. And I wasn’t prepared…

Let me back this up a little. I’m a girl. Obviously. I was once 13. I work with teenagers. I come from a family of girls. Most of my friends are girls! I’m no stranger to drama. I’m familiar with hormones. In fact-my sisters tended to lean a bit towards the dramatic. Which irritated the shit out of me. So I purposely leaned away from any drama. I was better with silence and the occasional eye roll. Which irritated the shit out of them. Mission accomplished. No crying necessary. So I imagine they are enjoying immensely the situation I currently find myself in at home. With my daughter…

My daughter has embraced her teenage years with a vengeance. Each day is a roller coaster of tears, stomping, napping, and eye rolls. I irritate her like crazy-but she loves me fiercely-at the same time. She wants to be with me. Always… So that I can share in her emotional roller coaster. Did I mention I hate roller coasters? And tears. I’m not that great with tears. And not all tears are bad fyi. We have happy tears as well. Frustrated tears. Laughing tears. Mad tears. Sad tears. Super sad tears. Hungry tears. ‘That’s the cutest picture of a puppy wearing a sweater I have ever seen’ tears. There are many many kinds of tears. Which can be very confusing to say…your 17 & 19 years old brothers. Or also your mom…

Recently the kids were supposed to be leaving to go to their fathers. My daughter wasn’t having it. She didn’t want to go. No specific reason. She just wanted to stay home. In her bed… With her pets… With her mom… As the time to leave approached she collapsed (yes- collapsed…) onto the floor outside my bedroom door. Tears were in full force. She was limp with emotion.  And I did the worst possible thing that I could have done… I laughed.

I was dead in the water. The wailing was in full force now. It was impressive. And now she was pissed. Because…I laughed. I don’t take her seriously. I hurt her feelings. I’m so mean!

Son #2 arrived on scene. “What is happening?”he asks. “I don’t understand.”

“Back away quietly,”I whisper. “Don’t make direct eye contact. And for godsakes…DON’T LAUGH.”

Those are the kinds of things I find myself saying now on a regular basis. “Don’t make eye contact with her.” “If you talk to your sister at all in the next 30 minutes-I will kill you.” “Do you think she has low blood sugar?””Did something happen while I was gone?””Did she hit her head on something?” “Why did you ask her to scoot over on the couch-are you crazy!? Have you lost your mind?! Stand!”

So we are currently being held hostage at my house by the most beautiful, kind, loving, funny, and sincere emotional tyrant in history. My daughter. She’s a teenage girl. The scariest of all creatures… But I love her with all my heart. She exhausts me. She makes me dream of day drinking but also cry with pride all in the same day. Maybe she’s rubbing off on me.

And I bet the X and the homewrecker are really enjoying this too…👠

 

 

I didn’t meet their expectations…

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I was having a conversation with a new friend recently. Not face to face of course. It is 2016. But we were having a conversation no less… Through Facebook Messenger. The most non-threatening way to contact someone new. Especially for the over 40 crowd.

“You seem very well grounded and to be honest I didn’t expect that.” He wrote. “It is nice getting to know you.”

I have to be honest too. It’s not the first time I have heard this. I’m sure it won’t be the last. And I never know for sure how I should take it. How should one respond to such statements? What exactly does he mean anyway? Am I nicer? Smarter? Less bitchy? Taller? Am I better at inserting the best emoticon in ‘just’ the perfect place than the average girl? What is it?! Time after time people have told me that I am friendlier than they thought. How surprised they are by my sense of humor. That they are impressed at how hard  I work. I’m more ‘down to earth’ than they expected. But for whatever reason- I didn’t meet their expectations…

“That seems to be the number one thing people say about me.” I respond with a lol. “That I’m not what they expected…” It’s better to laugh than cry.

My whole life has been about meeting peoples ‘expectations.’ Just like everyone else I guess. And for someone like me who started life as a natural people ‘pleaser’…trying to meet others expectations can be rough. And right along with those expectations are the perceptions.

My family has money. Or at least that’s the perception. My X has money. And that’s the truth. So in the mind of many of the people I meet in my small town,  my co-workers, and even some of my friends… I’m one of those kind of women. And apparently,  people have low expectation of those kind of women. Sure, she’s a single working mother with three children-but she comes from ‘money’-so she has it made. At least that’s the perception. The expectation.

But my conversation goes on to get even better…

“I always perceived you as a frumpy pampered housewife. Mostly by hearsay…”He continues. (And I’m paraphrasing here.) “But the  look and attitude I have seen lately has been a pleasant surprise. My old perception of you has changed quite a bit…”

Wow. That was honest. And guess what? I’m not even mad about it. There is a truth to his statements. The only exception I would take is the ‘pampered’ part. Or maybe I should say- qualification. My X never pampered me. I wasn’t ever deserving of it in his eyes. But my family…that’s a different story. Since my divorce they have pampered my quite a bit.

As a woman I have changed a lot since my divorce. Thank God! Since I discover those first pair of heels and left behind that frumpy housewife I have done nothing but grow stronger. Work harder. Smile more. I have made it my mission to hold my head high and move forward with a purpose. I will never be able to shed completely peoples ‘ideas’ about who I am-or where I came from. But I have learned that by exceeding those ‘expectations’ on a day to day basis- I have become a more confident woman. A happier woman. I am twice the woman I even imagined I could be when I was twenty. Literally…

I am grateful for the freedom that my divorce has brought to me. And that is not a statement that I make lightly. It wasn’t something that I expected for myself. The relief that it would bring…  I am grateful that I am no longer married to someone who didn’t like me-let alone love me. I have found the opportunity to find myself. With the help of my family and friends (of course)…

So to my new friend. I am so glad that I am not what you expected. That I didn’t meet your expectations. I’m so fucking glad. I take great pride in it.

I am so much more than what you expect.👠

 

 

 

 

It’s opposite day!

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Do you ever feel like you are just trying to damn hard? I mean, what the hell? You are going along. Trying to do it all the ‘right’ way…and boom. It blows up in your face. You hear about it all the time. The health nut who is unexpectedly diagnosed with terminal cancer. The man who never forgets his seat belt that is killed in a freak car accident. The dedicated wife who is at home diligently raising her family…when her husband startlingly leaves her for his mistress. Surprise! Said ‘wife’ becomes ‘divorced.’ She’s now that cliche ‘single working mom.’ And it isn’t as fun as she would like…

“What the hell,”exclaims my BDF. “We are great people! What’s the deal? Why can’t we find anyone?!”

“I know…” I agree. Obviously.

I mean she is right. We are great. Fucking awesome really. Smart, beautiful, caring, funny…modest. We are spectacular mothers. We work hard. We (or at least I) have great shoes. What else do we need?

“I think we just think about it to hard,” she decides. “We are over thinking everything!”

“Yep,” I agree. “Fuck it. I think we need to try something new. Something… someone…totally out of character. It’s opposite day!!!”

She’s skeptical. I can see it in her eyes. Hear it in her voice. She’s already thinking about it too much. It’s to ingrained in her. She feels obligated to think about it. To worry about it. To write it out in list form and study it for days. Anything to try to predict the outcome. To avoid hurt…and disappointment. It’s what we always do! And change is hard. Very hard.

“I’m not sure…”she hedges. It’s to out of the ordinary for her. To foreign. She’s not ready to commit.

But I am. I’m serious as a heart attack. Opposite day. Opposite summer. Opposite year… Whatever it takes. I’m moving on. With a vengeance. I only have one shot at this life-and I think it’s time to change things up a bit. You know what they say, ‘If you always do the same things, you will always get the same results.’ And I’m tired of those results personally.

So I’m going to stop ‘thinking’ about life. Really.  And try just ‘living’ it. I’m thinking it could be fun. Maybe it’s just what I need. Maybe not. Maybe it’s the road to happiness. Or the highway to hell… But at least it’s somewhere different. Somewhere different where I will be wearing fabulous shoes.

And btw- some of the best people in the world are totally unexpected.

 

“It’s opposite day bitches!” Divorce Shoes.👠

 

 

 

 

I am enough…

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After work recently I was laying on my bed ‘decompressing’ (aka watching Modern Family reruns by myself) when my cell phone rang.

“Hey mom…tell me some good things about myself.” It’s son #2. He’s in his room. Yes, we are those kinds of people. We call each other from our cell phones when we don’t want to get up. It’s much easier than screaming at the top of your lungs. Don’t judge.

“Why?” I ask curiously.  I mean I’m his mom. I have tons of great things to say about him. But I’m just wondering why he is asking.

“It’s for an autobiography project at school.  And I can’t think of any,” he explains.

I immediately begin to list  a litany of awesome things about him. But I can’t help but worry a little. He is a wonderful kid! Smart, funny, loving, loyal, compassionate… He gives the best hugs on the planet! There are a million positive things I can say about him. That anyone could say about him. And he can’t think of one nice thing to say about himself?  It makes me sad. Is this human nature? Or did he get this from me…

I struggle with the same problem. It seems hard to find something nice to say about myself. I appreciate all the compliments that people give. I know my children and family love me. But I have to admit I don’t always really believe it. In fact when I’m lying in bed alone at night trying to fall asleep…those compliments are nowhere to be found. Instead I am thinking about all the reasons that I am not ‘enough.’ I can come up with a ton of things I need to work on. Things that people have told me that they don’t like about me.  And there are two ways people can let you know that you aren’t up to their standards. They either have the balls to tell you directly or (probably more likely) they let you know through their actions. And one of the most hurtful actions is when someone you love, who you thought loved you too… quits on you. Rejection like that is pretty hard to overcome. And divorce feels like the ultimate failure.

In my adult life, I’m sad to say, the rejections I have faced have shaped my self-esteem more than anything else. And I know rationally that I shouldn’t let it. That I should focus on the positives. I should judge myself from my success as a mother, as a friend, as a person. But that is easier said than done. I get lots of hugs from my kids and positive affirmations from my friends, and even my coworkers treat me with respect. But deep down inside I can’t seem to change how I feel about myself. My self-talk is brutal…

And I know better. “No negative self-talk!” I tell my kids. I tell my friends and family the same thing. I hate hearing someone I care about not giving themselves the credit they deserve. I hate seeing the people I love judging themselves through someone else’s eyes. Through someone else’s expectations. But I’m the ultimate hypocrite when I say it. I continue to see myself through the eyes of my X. Through the eyes of all the people who have quit on me. Who rejected me. To them I wasn’t even important enough or valued enough to put in the effort to stay.

So in honor of my son I’m going to try something new. I’m not going to focus on what is wrong with me. I’m going to focus on what is right. I’m going to repeat it over and over and over again. Until I believe it. My BDF (best divorced friend) texted me recently and said ‘We are good people. We deserve love. We deserve appreciation. We deserve loyalty. We deserve better! We will be okay.’

And she’s right.  We deserve better. So screw the negative self-talk! Besides…I doubt if any of my X’s (or my BDF’s X’s) are lying awake at night worrying about what kind of people they are. I bet they are sleeping just fine. And I’ll be damned if we let them win again…

 

 

***I am smart. I am loved. I am kind. I am loyal. I am funny. I am caring. I am compassionate. I am capable of unconditional love. I am valuable. I have never quit on someone who loves me. And I have great shoes.👠 I am enough…

This picture is a lie…

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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…

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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.

That’s just how I am…

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So I have a ‘pet peeve.’ Actually it’s a little more than a pet peeve. That makes it sound trivial. It’s something that totally irritates the shit out of me. And more seriously than that- it has caused me great pain in my life.

It’s that person that acts like a total bitch about something…and then say’s ‘that’s just how I am’ when you have finally had enough and you get up the nerve to mention it to them. Wait a minute here… What? Is that an excuse? An explanation? What do you mean that’s ‘just how you are’? You mean you’re being a total bitch right now and you’re okay with it? And now you want me to be okay with it as well because apparently you are too lazy to change your behavior. And by the way this basically means that you are expecting me to change my behavior in some way so that I can deal with your issues.  Hmmm… Does that actually make sense to you? Does it make sense to anyone? I’m seriously asking here! Is this behavior okay?

Listen friends… ‘That’s just how I am’ is the equivalent of ‘I’m just saying.’ And you shouldn’t be saying either. Especially if you are over the age of 13.  Let me give you an example.

I have a ‘friend’ who seems to be quite moody. Downright difficult. You don’t always know where you stand with her.  And it can be tiring. But if you mention this to her she unapologetically replies ‘That’s just how I am.’ As if she has no control over her own behavior. She can just be ‘who she is’ without any of the repercussions.  As if people are incapable of changing their behaviors. In her mind it’s not her problem-it’s yours. She has no responsibility in this.

I’m guessing it’s obvious that I’m going to bring this back around to my X.  My X was a big believer that people couldn’t change. He used that excuse often. He was just being him. And that was the end of it. Deal with it.  I on the other hand have the opinion that people change every day. People who say they can’t change just don’t want to. They don’t feel they need to. It’s easier to quit than to grow as a person. They obviously think that their feelings about any given situation trump yours. It’s narcissistic behavior at it’s best.  Maybe that is what really bothers me. I can still here my X’s voice in my head clearly. ‘People don’t change. Especially not at my age.’ ‘This is how I was raised. This is how my family was.’ Newsflash– your parents didn’t seem to have that great of a marriage. And your family doesn’t seem that happy with each other. I’m not sure how you don’t see that?! (And btw…it has been scientifically proven that you CAN teach old dogs new tricks. Age is irrelevant. Are you not as smart as a dog??) To me that attitude is the ultimate in selfish behavior. It’s immature and hurtful. If your behavior consistently is causing problems in your relationships-with people you supposedly care about-maybe…just maybe… you should consider a little self-reflection.

Maybe you can change. If you try. I believe you can! Isn’t that what life is really about? Is it really that impossible to try something different? To try something new for the people in your life? If you really are incapable of change- maybe you aren’t as smart as you think you are.

Actually…lets be honest. You definitely aren’t as smart as you think you are.👠

 

***And I recently read a quote which I found to be perfect. “A man who views the world the same at fifty as he did at twenty has wasted thirty years of his life.” Muhammad Ali