Tag: single parenting

My number is…

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 Outdated.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

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

“What are you talking about…”she sighed.

“Your sex number.”Obviously!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

 

 

 

 

Perspective…

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

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

 

Till death do us part…

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

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

This is fucking fantastic!

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

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

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

 

Guess what? I don’t like laundry either…

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

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

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

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

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

I have a question…

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

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

Divorced is divorced…

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Are you divorced? Because divorced is divorced. Right? I mean you found out about the affair, went through the break up, you showed up at the court house…it’s done. Over. Finished. But I’ve noticed something. Somedays I feel more divorced than others. Certain situations increase my divorced status from regular to extremely pathetic.

Let’s start with the #1 worst offender… The holidays. Specifically Thanksgiving through Easter. Christmas of course being the Ultimate of all holidays. And I’m not discounting Valentine’s Day. That was one of the first pieces of advice my BDF gave me.

“Listen…all holidays will suck. Just accept it. Avoid sappy commercials and set your expectations low,” she informed me.

“Ok…” I nod. Sniff sniff…muffled sob.

Holidays are forever changed. Especially as a parent. Think about it… What’s the best part of any holiday when you become a mom?! Experiencing it with your children. Seeing the joy on their faces. Creating traditions. Playing Santa. Being with extended families. Divorce fucks it all up. Now with that all encompassing parent plan looming…holidays are a year by year proposition. Everything hinges on the calendar. Not only for you and your kids- but for all of your family and friends. Your family is just as irritated as you that they have to worry about whether this is an even or odd year before making any plans. Is this the 1st or 3rd weekend? What bullshit. (And now that my kids are older I can tell you with 100% certainty that holidays accentuate their divorce status as well. And they aren’t happy about it. In fact- they are pissed.)

#2 on the list….illness or injury. Specifically-yours. I remember one of my first experiences with this one vividly. I had just moved into the new house after the divorce and the kids were at the X’s for the weekend. I couldn’t sleep and was going downstairs to switch a load of laundry over. And somehow…I tripped and fell down the stairs. It was an impressive fall. If it was a scene on a soap opera I would definitely have died. I mean…I fell all the way down the stairs. And did I mention there is a landing in between the top and bottom? But I kept on going. It hurt. It scared me. And as I laid at the bottom of the stairs catching my breath I had never felt more alone. If I had broke my neck no one would have known. I stayed there and cried for a long time. I had several bumps and bruises-but no one to show them to. I was divorced.

#3 Car trouble. This one is a bit embarrassing… But for me there is nothing like car trouble to make me feel single. I mean I know what to do. I am an adult. But adulting is hard. Especially by yourself. It pisses me off. In my marriage cars were the X’s department. So when I find myself sitting on the side of the road with a flat tire, or trying to decipher what the light on my dash means…I get mad all over again. My X didn’t hold up his end of the bargain! He’s helping the home wrecker with her car troubles…

My BDF had car trouble recently. And I could hear some very familiar emotions in her voice.

“Come get me. My car died.” She was pissed. Worried. And divorced.

“I’m on my way.” And I went immediately. Because I’m divorced too.

Mailing Christmas cards (or not), filing taxes, dealing with door to door salesmen, checking the basement for suspicious noises…they can make you feel alone. Because you know what? You’re divorced. And being divorced sucks. But remember your not necessarily alone. I’m right there with you. We are both wearing the same shoes.

And shoe shopping is something I always did alone anyway. I hope yours are as cute as mine…👠

Screw forgiveness…

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I have had countless people over the years tell me the importance of forgiveness.  As if the answer to making the pain of my divorce go away lies only with me. (Like Dorothy and her damn ruby slippers-you always had the power within…)  ‘The key to inner peace is forgiveness’ they say. ‘You can’t move forward without forgiveness.’ ‘Forgiveness is for you- not for them!’ Forgive…Forgive…Forgive. There are thousands of articles; inspirational quotes…even religions trying to convince me of this. My BDF is always suggesting it to me.

But I call bullshit. I don’t want to forgive my X. And I’m not going to. Why should I? So there!  What are you going to do to me now?? Is lightening going to strike?  Am I tempting fate? Angering the universe? Attracting negative experiences with my blatant refusal to forgive? Maybe… But I doubt it.  I think I will take my chances. Screw forgiveness.

You see- I think this constant pressure to forgive is just making people who have had something bad done to them feel worse. Not only have you had some kind of shitty life experience that apparently wasn’t your fault- but you better get over it quick. You need to forgive!! It’s your duty. Your responsibility.  What a bunch of crap! I don’t need that! I don’t believe everyone deserves forgiveness. In my opinion there are three minimum requirements for forgiveness…

1) The most obvious one is-drum roll please… The person has to be truly sorry for their actions. Like seriously down to the bottom of their soul- deeply sorry. So sorry that they never ever do it again. To anyone. “I’m sorry I had an affair it was a terrible thing to do. BTW I want a divorce and I’m marrying her…” “I’m sorry I treated you terribly the last few years. But you were coming between me and my mistress…” Uh…excuse me? That is not going to cut it. That is not an apology. Nope.  Move along. No forgiveness here.

2) Their behavior must change. No apologizing and getting up the next day and doing it all over again. Like Groundhog’s Day.  If they wake up the next day still an asshole…I’m not buying the snake oil apology that they are selling. Because it’s not real. It’s fake. It’s for them…not for me. It’s the ultimate scam in human behavior.

3) They must have no excuses. They accept total responsibility for their actions. No bullshit “I’m sorry- but I was so unhappy. You didn’t give me what I wanted. You were such a disappointment.” That’s not an apology. That’s an excuse. And not just any excuse-an excuse that makes this all my fault!  I absolutely hate the apology with a ‘but’ in it. Save your breath please. I don’t want to hear it. I have enough going on without your passive aggressive apology.

So what’s a girl who won’t forgive to do? Shall I just wither and die with my bitter withholding of ‘forgiveness…’ (Picture me here wringing my hands with a sad face…) Will the pain never be gone?  I don’t think so! I am still moving forward with my life. I still have happiness, joy, and laughter.  I am creating new memories to replace the old.  I cope. I drink wine and wear cute shoes.  But one thing I don’t do…is forgive my X. Or the home wrecker.

They don’t deserve it. Screw them. And screw forgiveness…

Tell her what she needs to hear…maybe.

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I have an old friend (old as in since High School friend…not as in elderly…even though we are over 40…) that is going through a tough time in her marriage. Tough time is really an understatement. It’s a shit show that I can’t even begin to understand. We haven’t been in touch much the last couple of years. But the bottom line is clear however-she and her husband don’t like each other. And their 2 kids are fully aware. If anyone every needed to get divorced it’s these two people. Yet- I know it’s not that easy.

She has called me recently reaching out for help. I know she needs what I needed not so long ago. Someone who has been through it. Someone who has walked in her shoes…  But I struggle with what to actually say to her. I can’t seem to say ‘you need to get a divorce.’ The words get stuck in my throat. Even as a divorced woman who is beginning to see the perks of not being in a shitty marriage- I hesitate.

Why? Why is it such a dilemma to me? It feels like a moral dilemma. You see- I don’t believe in divorce. (Ironic…I know…)That is why I went through mine kicking and screaming. Divorce is bad. Period. It’s never completely over. It has changed my children’s world drastically. I hate it. But- I am fully aware that a failing marriage isn’t fun either. For anyone. It steals your happiness, your self-esteem, and your energy. It steals your life. So what’s my hang up? I’ve been thinking about this for several days. Tell her to get her shit together and get divorced! Get a lawyer. Make a plan. Figure it out. It’s inevitable anyway. Tell her what she needs to hear!

Recommending divorce to anyone is a risky business. I don’t know their intimate details. What they think about when they lay down to go to sleep at night. There is no guarantee that it will work out for the better for them.  It might all blow up in their faces! Maybe hating each others guts is just a thing they do.  I just don’t know… I’m not them.

So I’ve come to a conclusion. Sort of.  About the reason I can’t say it. And it (of course) can be laid at the feet of my X. I can’t stand to say the words out loud because I don’t want him to be right. It would seem hypocritical of me to recommend divorce to anyone else…right? I don’t believe in it…right? I don’t want my X to think for one minute what he did was admirable.  I seem unable to separate my personal baggage from my opinions about divorce in general. It’s some complicated stuff…

It goes against my grain to say it-but sometimes the end comes so that you can find a new beginning. It isn’t easy. It’s incredibly difficult actually. Divorce isn’t a quick fix. And we can’t forget the kids-they are the ones paying the biggest price.  But…sometimes-you gotta throw in the towel and find a new life for yourself. I don’t know what that is yet for me. But I’m figuring it out.

But for my old friend. The one with the husband who hates her. I hope she finds some divorce shoes she likes. Because she’s going to need them…

Divorce is never done. Part 2.

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Day 3 of the hostage situation… I’m not being held hostage. Just my money. Or should I say my kids money?

I woke up with determination yesterday! My X had faxed a copy of the cancelled check to the county offices-so they had proof that they had indeed received and cashed my missing check. (That was a fun process. Asking him to do something is always so easy…) I was prepared to get to the bottom of this child support issue. Immediately. Quickly and rationally. I would get answers that made since. People would be understanding and helpful-because that’s their job. I was so hopeful back then. So naive…

I waited until 8:30 on the dot and called my county offices. A slightly friendly (definitely not overly friendly) woman answered the phone. I asked to speak to the ‘lady who knows about this stuff.’ She-of course-had not called me back to let me know if she had done anything about my situation.

“Hi. Can I speak to the lady who knows stuff?” I ask.

“She’s in a meeting.”

“Do you know when she will be available?” I inquire.

“No.”

“May I leave a message? I have been trying to get my situation resolved for several days now-and I haven’t heard back from her..” I explain.

“No. You will need to call back.”

Ok- let me stop here and not bore you with all the frustrating details. But I called my county offices three times and each time they told me they couldn’t take a message. WTF. You can’t take a message? Is that an option. No one told me that! If so I’ve been doing it all wrong. At my job everyone takes messages! Because…you know…it’s our job. On my third call I can’t take it anymore. My positive attitude was long gone.  In my mind everyone in the office either looks like Kim Davis or Roz from Monsters Inc. I’m no longer feeling rational.

“Is there a reason you can’t take a message?”

Long pause…… She actually seems surprised by my question. Like messages are some kind of foreign concept. “I guess I can write a note.” she concedes.

I did not receive a return phone call. Surprise. In her defense she did say write a note. Not deliver it. There was no guarantee of any action. So I make my fourth phone call. And in a show of mercy from the universe, the lady who knows something is there. She can take my call. And she has news.

“Well- we were able to locate your money. It was distributed to the wrong person. And as long as that person hasn’t cashed the check- we will be able to redistribute it to you. We think that they haven’t. If they had it would be bad! We would have to wait for them to return it…”she explains slowly.  “So we will issue you a check. But I’m not exactly sure how long that will take. Hopefully not to long… However maybe you should tell your X to make sure he’s writing the check correctly when he sends it. And that he has your case number on it.”

Now it’s my turn to issue the long pause…. Huh? What? Are you kidding? Why do I have to wait to see if some ‘person’ who thinks they just got a much needed bonus cashed a check or not?! This is your error people! Give me my money!

“So I don’t understand. I’m just supposed to wait?” I ask in confusion.

“Yes.”

Ok-warning- slight rant ahead. I think this is the dumbest thing I have ever heard. That is why everyone in the world hates dealing with ‘government’ agencies. This is why Donald Trump is winning. People are pissed. It’s why you need to drink a glass of wine to recover from your trip to the DMV. It’s why you might need therapy during tax season. It is impossible to speak to anyone who knows anything. ‘Policies’ rule the world… You will spend hours holding on the phone trying to speak to someone at almost any government office. It’s why schools get a bad rap and your blood pressure rises when just enter a post office.  There is no common sense! You know it won’t be easy…but you have no choice. It’s just the way it is. Period. It’s bureaucracy at its finest. And when you are a divorced single mom with no child support check this month-its beyond frustrating. It’s fucking ridiculous. 

So here’s where I stand. I haven’t got my money. The X really didn’t really have to be bothered with this. My eye is still twitching occasionally. I have no idea how long I have spent holding on the phone. I bought more ice cream… And I am still wearing my divorce shoes.

And I will be for awhile. Because divorce is never done.

 

 

 

 

 

Divorce is never done. (Part 1)

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One not so fun thing about a divorce WITH children is money. Which is ironic. Money was a major problem in my shitty marriage as well.  In my marriage specifically-money talked. Whoever makes the money rules the world, right? I didn’t rule the world. I was a stay at home mom. So what was his was his. And what was mine was his also.

Money problems are pretty universal. In all adult people.  But especially in the divorced. (Divorced couples obviously don’t like each other-so there’s no way they are going to agree on financial issues. Come on now…enough with the unrealistic expectations.) What divorced kid hasn’t asked his dad for something and heard the classic ‘That’s what I pay your mother child support for…’ response? So they trudge back to mom and ask again.  ‘As soon as your dad sends my check!’  I cringe even thinking about it…

But I have been lucky compared to many divorced single moms on one account. My X always pays his child support. He has never missed. Not once. Some months it’s a little later than others…but it always comes. Until this month. This month I am having my first go round with the system. And I can’t even blame my X. (Well…I blame him a little. The divorce and affair and all. Remember-every upsetting situation can be linked to the divorce in 3 steps or less. 1. Get divorced. 2. Don’t receive child support check. 3. Have to deal with state workers who make me want to rip out my own hair…)

But let me get back on track. As of last week I still hadn’t received my check for this month. I text my X. He replies that it has been sent. I wait 2 more days. I text him again. He replies that he checked with the bank and that the check in question has cleared his account. I check mailbox diligently. No check. I call the state department of social services family support division. I hold for 11 minutes and accidentally hang up when I’m checking my phone to see how long I have been holding. I call back. I hold 23 minutes. The hold music is horrendous. Like some of the worst. It’s designed to make you give up I think. They are testing you to see how bad you really need to talk with them.  I don’t give up and I finally get someone on the phone. A man with a monotone voice-who seems dead inside. He reports that no check has been received for this month and that I should open a case against my X.

“Are you sure?’’ I ask. “The X says he has a copy of the cancelled check.”

“I’m sure.” he replies. “I can’t help you. Call your county offices.”

I take a deep breath, and dutifully call my county offices. The good news is that someone answers the phone almost immediately! A very lovely lady, who has no idea how to help me. She takes a message for the lady who may be able to help me-but is of course in a meeting.

“But I don’t think we can help you.” she apologizes. “Unless you want to open a case. I think you should call the state back. They can help you.”

“Can the lady who knows something call me back?” I ask.

“Actually-no. Probably not.  You will need to call her back tomorrow… But I really think we can’t help you.” she repeats.

I sigh and text my BDF about my terrible, horrible, no good day and the injustices of my divorced life. I brace myself and call the X. Something I normally avoid at all costs. He is his regular condescending self. This is not his problem. He sent the check. It’s my problem. Etc. Etc. Etc. However- when I explain that the only answer I am getting so far is to open a case against him- he really gets irritated.

“I am just trying to get some help.”I explain.

“I will fax you a copy of the cancelled check.” Click. They man is obviously too busy to deal with this bullshit.

So I hang by the fax machine and wait for the evidence. It comes through. And in the tradition of all faxes it’s a shitty copy. Great. Perfect actually. But since I need the money…I dial the state again. I hold for 19 minutes before my daughter calls three times in a row so I know it must be something really serious.

‘Hello!!??’ I screech. ’What’s happened?!!’

‘When will you be home? Can I have a snack? Where is the ice cream?’ she asks.

‘I don’t know. I don’t care. Don’t call back unless something is on fire…’

I make my third phone call. It’s 4:20. I know my time is limited. I hold for 35 minutes. 35 minutes. 35 minutes in a row. It’s dangerously close to 5:00. I finally get someone on the phone. Another man who lacks job enthusiasm.  I quickly explain my entire story. Every little detail. The phone calls. The cancelled check. Everything. He is unimpressed.

“We can’t help you ma’am. You need to call your county and open a case.”

“The county told me to call you back! I have a copy of the cancelled check. Can’t I speak to the person who cashes checks?!” I’m desperate now. And to say I’m frustrated is an understatement. My right eye is beginning to twitch.

“No one here does that ma’am. I suggest you call the county and open a case against your X.”

So in retrospect- I could have taken off work and driven to the state capital in the same amount of time that I spent holding on the phone. I have a raging headache and still no answers. I am actually fantasizing about my X’s face if I did ‘just open a case against him’- just to cheer myself up.

And I am thinking of all those women who deal with this crap every single month. Asshole X’s who don’t even send the money. The bureaucracy that is supposed to help them. The hours spent worrying and fretting and trying to figure it out. While working. And taking care of kids. And all the other stuff it’s up to them alone to do…

My BDF is right about one thing. No one understands. They don’t get it. Unless they have stood in your shoes-your divorce shoes- while holding endlessly on the phone- waiting for answers-with a sick feeling in their  stomach…

Divorce is never done.

(Stay tuned for part 2. Will I get my money? Will the X get involved? Does my eye stop twitching?  How long will I hold on the phone? Are we out of ice cream? What shoes will I be wearing?)