Tag: single parenting

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.

Of course I love you…

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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…

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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…👠

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

 

 

Cinderella…and that damn Glass Slipper

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I recently tried watching the War of the Roses. Halfway through the movie I was so upset that I had to turn it off.  Does anyone remember that movie? It’s an old one. It stars Michael Douglas, Kathleen Turner, and Danny DeVito. It’s a dark comedy…about a vicious divorce. I remember being somewhat entertained by it years ago. It seemed so outrageous. In the movie the Michael Douglas and Kathleen Turner characters are a married couple who from the outside would appear to have it all. But the resentment and anger were brewing under the surface like poison. And (spoiler alert) the anger, resentment and rage was so intense that they killed each other in the end. That’s right. The anger killed them.

And from where I sit right now I wonder if they didn’t have it easy. The anger during a break-up is consuming.  It’s like a fire in your blood. You are shocked and outraged. How could this happen? You don’t deserve this! No one deserves this. Screw him. What a SELFISH and despicable coward. He’s a weak excuse for a human being.  The anger is overwhelming.

But something worse quickly takes its place. Something much harder to endure than all that rage.  The pain and rejection you feel when someone you were in a longtime relationship with-someone you love- walks away…is brutal.  Devastating. I can’t even put into words how it makes you feel. It makes you feel empty inside and like you are being suffocated at the same time. Like your drowning. You bared your most personal self to someone that you think will be there for you forever. But instead they take a pass. You aren’t a priority. They’re busy. They don’t love you back. They don’t have time for you. You aren’t their person. And they lied when they said you were. They are going to find someone new. Or they already did find someone new? But regardless, they rejected you. And that rejection and pain are the real killers. But not quick and explosive like the anger. Slow and cruel like a terminal illness.

Rejection steals your self-esteem. Your confidence. It makes you wonder every single day why you weren’t enough. “What’s wrong with me?” you can’t help but ask yourself repeatedly.  It’s the question that haunts your dreams. It’s what you are thinking about when you wake up at 3am feeling like you can’t breathe. Why didn’t they want me? And why did they ever pretend at all? Didn’t they know that I loved them? No matter how many people tell you that it wasn’t you-it was them…you will never be able to fully believe it. “You will find somebody new! Someone better!” they say. Like it’s just that easy…  Rejection changes your ability to give love. To find love. It steals a very precious part of you away. Forever.

Finding a lifelong companion is still a secret dream of mine. “Where’s my white knight?” I ask myself stupidly.  I want that feeling of being loved unconditionally. Of being cherished. I want to feel what it must be like to have someone choose to put your happiness above their own. To have someone who can’t imagine life without me. I see it around me every single day. So it must be possible! At least I think it’s possible. Maybe I’m naive.  Or, as one of my best friends said to me last night, “I think we watched Cinderella to many times when we were little.” Yes. I guess we did.

Cinderella…you bitch. And that damn glass slipper.

Except for the sex part…

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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…

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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…

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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💜

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What do you mean I’m fired?

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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…

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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.