The Secret to a Happy Marriage

I got home tonight and my Ex-Husband, Oz, was at my house with the kids and a salesman from a roofing company.  And that is not even the weirdest part of the story.  Over the weekend Oz and Dorothy were at a Wedding Expo and they entered to win home improvement services.  They don't own a home, but they know I do and that my home has a hole in the roof that squirrels have been moving into.   So, they entered to win me a new roof. Or at least an estimate on one that I can finance (still not the most awkward part of the story.)

So Roof Sales Man arrives while I was out with my friend and Oz was here with the kids.  Roof Sales Man goes through his speech on roof stuff with Oz.  Then I arrive.  He assumes that I am Oz's wife because that makes sense. But, I don't realize it at first.

After, he looks around he comes back inside to meet with us and says he needs to schedule another appointment and when are we available etc. etc.

As he tries to talk about the pros of going with a more expensive shingle, he starts using all his sales tactics... he wonders how long do we expect them to last?
He is looking at me and wants to know how long will we plan to be in the house.
Well...who knows?? It was a starter home ...but here we are 14 years later.  So...

Then he says, so how long have you known each other?  Well...about 16 years.

"WOW!" he says, "so what's the secret to a happy marriage?"

Ummm...Divorce?!

Home

Home...is it a place or a feeling or a person?  For families of Divorce, it can be a very confusing word. When Oz and I fell apart, I clung to the idea that my children needed a home. I needed to provide a physical place of shelter for people to live.  Having been a Stay at Home Mom (SAHM) for the 6 years previous to The Divorce, the weight of that responsibility felt overwhelming.  Where would I work? How would we live? WHERE would we live? But, it all fell into place and I quickly got a job and kept my house.

During the divorce proceedings I was adamant that my children have a Home Base and not be shuffled around like nomads.  We came to an agreement that the house the children and I lived in would be Home Base. Oz visited them here in the place they lived. He would take them for awhile and return them here.

I lived here with them. But, it didn't feel like HOME to me. It was a place in which we each parented people on our days.  It was a place for the children and I to eat and sleep. The routines stayed the same and the children had stability.  Life moved along with days turning to months and eventually years.

At one point, I woke up and realized we needed to make the house into a home again. I had to start feeling like I lived there with my family even though that image had now changed from what I had thought my life would be. I always pictured Home to have a mother and a father living together in it.  I had to revision!

So, I started clearing out junk. Then, I decorated a bit more. Repainted, reorganized. Eventually, it started to feel like I was Home. We had dinners at the table, we had family and friends over. We stopped just existing in the house we slept in. We started to live in a Home again.

During this process, Oz set up his new home.  His Emerald Palace was a city apartment.  Different than our tiny house. New and shiny to the kids.  They liked to go visit "Daddy's house." They had a tent set up for a long time that they shared when they slept there. They thought it was so cool! The blinds are floor to ceiling and a remote controls them. Very cool!

For a long while, this worked.  The children and I continued developing a sense of Home in the house we lived in.  Oz visited.  The children visited Oz's "place" as they would often call it.

Over time, Oz met Dorothy.  Slowly, she was introduced to the children.  Introduced to me.
She would stop in to see the kids and Oz at his place or they might meet out for part of his days with the kids.  After a long while, she started to spend days with all of them on most of their visits.  Then days turned into a night here or there.  Then a short vacation for all of them together. Eventually, she moved in to Oz's place. She visited the Home the children and I live in more often. She spent time here with them.

Dorothy became part of Oz's life, part of my children's lives and part of my life over the past 3 years.

This Spring,  Oz and Dorothy got engaged and my children started referring to Oz's place as "our Home with Daddy and Dorothy" or they would say "we are going to our home with Daddy now."
The language began changing. The idea of HOME began to evolve.

I credit Dorothy with this seamless transition into my children's lives and hearts. She stood back and let them get to know her. She earned their respect. She earned mine. She didn't force any of us to like her. She didn't try to convince us.  She just lived as who she is and soon we all realized how impossible it would be to NOT like her (even when I might have tried.)

She slowly got to know the kids, what they like, what they are interested in and what they care about.

She shares in their love of legos and quickly became the boys Go To Person for Lego projects.  She set up a cool lego building station at their house. She sifted through the zillions of lego pieces thrown around our play room and the organized them into bags and matched them with instructions and helped them build.

She shows joy for my daughter's love of American Girl Dolls.  She dug out her own AG doll, Molly from her childhood days and enthusiastically plays with Isabella.  They make necklaces and bracelets from beads and pasta, they sew pillows, they created their own line of lip balm.

The children enjoy their time at their Home with Daddy and Dorothy largely in part because Dorothy goes out of her way to make them feel special. FEELing at Home is an important part of BEing at home.

One afternoon, they came back from Oz's place,  grumbling because Dorothy had gone out for an hour without them.  Isabella was very grumpy about it.  When I asked her why, she told me that Dorothy said she was going to the mall to return something and would be right back. But it took AN HOUR! I reminded the children that the mall was a 20 minute drive in each direction. Which means Dorothy had to be RUNNING through the Mall to make it back to them as quickly as she did and they should give her a break.  Bella was not convinced.

One of my sons (Vincenzo) told me that Bella sat by her dollhouse waiting for Dorothy for nearly the entire time, but finally gave up and took a nap.  Apparently, when Dorothy returned she offered to play dolls with Bella.  But, Bella told her no. She wasn't going to play with her because she was angry still. (OMG I was horrified to hear the bratty tale!)

I asked him why they were so upset about her going out.  He said it just wasn't fun without her.  He said they needed her there because she always comes up with great things to do.
I reminded all 3 of the children that once in a while adults need a break too.  And it was ONE HOUR!!!   Seriously people!!

This summer, they all went on a long vacation together. When Oz and Dorothy returned the kids after 9 days and several hours stuck in traffic- I asked if they were tired. Dorothy looked exhausted.  They all did.  But, she very graciously said no and that they'd had a fantastic vacation. She told me all of the great behaviors the kids showed to each other and to her family.  I was so proud and so relieved.

To hear her talk proudly about the children made an incredible impact on me.

It had been my worst nightmare when I got divorced, to think that another woman would come into my children's lives and be the abusive and scary, EVIL Stepmother that Disney spends millions of dollars to create stories about.  I feared they would never feel like a family again and that they would be pushed out of their father's life by a faceless, nameless person.

To my great joy, I have discovered how blessed our family is to have Dorothy in it.
HOME has a new meaning for my children now.   Instead of being pushed out, they were brought in.
They are creating new traditions, setting up an additional Home Base and enjoying being cared for by their now larger village of loving and supportive people.

When they returned from vacation they told me that they have new grandparents now, Dorothy's parents.  They were so well cared for and loved by her family.  The felt at Home. This was their second summer trip with them and they made traditions that they are already looking forward to for next year!

This week I was thinking about how it takes a village to create a sense of Home...
The children and I have been cleaning rooms and closets and organizing etc.
I finished Isabella's room, but the boys told me not to worry about doing their room because Dorothy would do it.  They said she likes to organize and donate things!

That really made me realize that HOME is about the people in our lives.  My children are comfortable in our Home and they know that Oz and Dorothy are comfortable here too.  They know that we all help each other out.  They thought nothing of the fact Dorothy would come over and clean their room.  They were right too! She did come over and organized the closet and drawers neater than ever before. So maybe that  comfort and acceptance and inclusion is what makes it FEEL like Home?

Five years ago I NEVER would have pictured feeling thankful that my children have another woman in their lives in a parenting role.  I also would not have believed that I would have that woman visit my house on a regular basis and feel comfortable with her doing dishes and helping with laundry and cleaning out the boys' closet and drawers.

With anyone else I would have felt self-conscious or judged because I can't always keep up with the messes and chores and organizing. I would have worried that someone thought I was not capable or not a good mom.  But, with Dorothy she has become part of the family. She has created an extension of Home for my children.  So I have realized it is ok to accept help and to let someone with the energy and enthusiasm and love for my children to give a hand when it is needed.

Maybe Home doesn't have to be a certain person, place or feeling? Maybe it's what you make it?

In sickness and in health and …divorce.

Who would be the most likely candidate to call for help with injecting myself with meds 3 times a week? Umm…my ex-husband?  If you think that is weird- you aren't alone. It started back in January when I knew I would need meds to help with my newly diagnosed MS treatment.  The pharmacy provided a visiting nurse to come out to train me to do the injections. I had used injectable meds years ago to help with pregnancy related complications when I had The Goofballs, so I was not concerned. In fact, when the nurse called to schedule a visit, I basically told her I already knew what I was doing so she didn't need to bother. But, it was policy and blah, blah. SO I scheduled an appointment for her to come to my house.

I didn't give it much thought, but the day before she arrived, the Wild One mentioned that maybe I could video the teaching session so that if I needed help, he or my mom could know what to do. It seemed like a good idea.  Oz was going to be at my house that evening with the kids so I asked him if he would video. He agreed.


When the nurse called to confirm the "training" she told us videoing was not allowed but that there was info and video on the med website blah, blah.  Something like that.

But, she said most people have someone there to be trained to help if needed so if I had someone that could come over that would be great.

When I told Oz there was not video allowed, he said he would still sit through the training class with me and help if needed.

When I introduced my ex-husband to the visiting nurse, she said that was a first for her to have Exes being trained together.

Yeah, I guess it is a bit unconventional.

The class was the longest hour ever, she gave me so much information and paperwork and techniques that I never thought I could keep it all straight. I suddenly felt very overwhelmed.  I quickly found that the "auto jet" injector that is supposed to help make things easier is in fact a pain in the ass and difficult to operate!

I did the very first injection with the nurse there and only messed up a little. But, when I tried on my own in the days following I knicked myself with the needle and wasted more than one shot.

Luckily Oz was patient and and really payed attention to the class.  He did a MUCH better job with the shots that I did.

SO I set up the injection schedule for the 3 days a week Oz is at my house to visit  the kids already. The nurse said most people did Monday, Wednesday and Friday and she thought that I should do that instead.  I stopped just short of telling her to go fuck herself. Then made the schedule I wanted.

I figured for the first week or  2 it would help if Oz could assist.

And then…6 months went by.

Oz went on vacation in early July and that is when it fully hit me that he has been giving me 98% of my shots since January.

The injection sites are rotated arms, legs, hips and stomach. Really the stomach is the only spot I can do without help. I had to stop using my legs because the injection sites would swell up and hurt for a week.The meds burn my skin so the arms hurt like hell!  And I can't reach my hips very well.  But, the excessive fat in my stomach makes it a perfect place for the meds, too fat to feel the burn!

I have talked to other people with MS that have a relative assist them as needed with injections. Or some that have even gone off the meds because the burning at the injection site is awful or the swelling gets to be a bit much.  I haven't met anyone yet that has an Ex help them though and when they ask me about my "support person" they get a really puzzled look.

Even people that know us well have had an odd look when they try to process that Oz is the one that helps me.   I know, I get it. I even agree that it's funny! We are not above the Dr. Oz jokes!

But, I am thankful for the support system I have.

The Wild One has also been great about helping me with the shots when Oz isn't here or our schedules change, etc.  He does a fantastic job with it!

 Even Oz's girlfriend Dorothy is great about entertaining the kids when she is here so Oz can help me.

All in all the system has worked well. But, I know I can't take for granted that my ex-husband or anyone is going to be committed to helping give me meds forever. This isn't a temporary thing. I think in the beginning I thought it was.  Like it would just go away or stop being MS. Or something.
But, it is finally sinking in that this condition is permanent.

At some point I have to stop needing an assist. I have to find techniques that work without relying on someone else.

But, in the meantime I am so very grateful that Oz has stepped up and helped so much! It really put things in perspective and has given me a new outlook as we co-parent together. When he needs flexibility in his schedule or asks me to consult on a parenting issue, I am much more aware of the fact that I am dealing with a person who cares about me and my family and my health. Instead of looking for a fight or thinking he has an ulterior motive every time he speaks, I have come to appreciate that he is a good and thoughtful person. He goes above and beyond his co-parenting duties by helping me even though he doesn't have to. It is good for the kids to see we work together still when it comes to the things that matter.

Despite Divorce we still maintain a family unit that functions, even if it looks a little crazy from the outside.

EVERYthing is Mama's Business

When I rifled through the pockets of a jacket forgotten by Oz, it caused quite a debate with the Goofballs and raised some interesting questions!  In my defense I did not intentionally pick through his pockets.  I was cleaning and found a small, thin puffy jacket on my couch. I assumed it belonged to a child or a woman.  As I was guessing who it's owner could be it never occurred to me that it was Oz.  I held it up and felt something in one of the pockets and at the same time the children, aka The Goofballs, noticed what I was doing. They started saying, "that's Daddy's jacket."  When I proceeded to pull small items from the pockets it raised their attention and they came storming over. Immediately they repeated that it belonged to their father. Still disbelieving that such a tiny, thin jacket could belong to a man, I continued to look at the pocket items.  At that point, Isabella could not stand it any longer and said, "Stop going through the pockets! That jacket is Daddy's and it is his business!"

Excuse me small child that I gave life to???

I took that moment to gently remind The Goofballs that anything that was in my house is MY business including the humans I made and anyone or anything connected to them in any way.

They disagreed very much.  But, I reminded them that I had spent a decade of my life with Oz and created an entire family for him so his abandoned pockets and anything in them are also MY business.

I could not help laughing at their protection of Oz and his "business!"  FYI- the only things I found were a Dunkin Donuts gift card and chapstick. Not exactly state secrets. But, I appreciated their thoughtfulness in protecting his privacy. I only hope they will extend me the same curtesy if ever needed. Especially since they live with me and spend almost all of their time with me and therefore know much more of my "business" than their fathers.

The jacket search however, did raise some interesting questions. Cenzo immediately seized the opportunity to remind me that I had been married to Oz for quite some time and then he asked the dreaded question…."Why did you get divorced?"

We haven't really had that question in a long, long time.  The kids were little when we split up. The boys were 5 at the time and barely remember that fate changing day 3 years ago when Oz moved out and Bella was 2 and barely remembers him ever even living with us.

So it was interesting, in a gut wrenching and devastating way, to hear that question from my sweetest little guy.  Especially since it was the week of Christmas. The most dreaded of all holidays for their single Mama.

Since I was blindsided and ill prepared, I bravely faced the 3 children and told them "Life happened to us and we didn't make it through the difficult times together."

Then I waited for about 3 breathes until I could speak again and asked if anyone had any other questions. THANK GOD they all said no!!

If they had said yes, I was prepared to offer them Oz's chapstick and gift card as a bribe to get them to stop asking me heartbreaking questions!

Seriously?!

So last night I arrive home to find Oz and the kids in distress. Oz had misplaced his ring from Dorothy and everyone was in a tizzy. The next thing I know, I'm elbow deep in a garbage pail praying to Saint Anthony as I sift through yesterday's mac and cheese and other grossness in search of Oz's ring.  Now, is it normal for me to assist in looking for a ring that had been exchanged between my ex-husband and his girlfriend on Valentine's Day probably as an undying symbol of their love? Not really.   Do I love the idea that he dates a girl 15 years younger than he is? Not really.  (Her age may explain why he is 42 years old and wears a promise ring, but I digress.)  Was it a jarring experience the first time I caught a glimpse of that silver ring that looks exactly like a wedding band on his finger? Yes.

However, once I had the chance to get to know Dorothy a little bit, I realized she is very sweet.  So nice in fact and so far good to my children that she is nearly impossible to dislike.  Also, she proved her intelligence to me one day when she stood witness to an argument between Oz and I and she knew enough to keep her mouth shut and not make eye contact with me.  That brave girl stood there and endured the situation knowing enough to not engage an angry Mama Bear.  She earned my respect that day.

Despite any misgivings or protests I may have had (there were a "few"), it is nice that my children see a couple that seem to truly have a connection and care for each other.  They enjoyed helping Oz set up an anniversary dinner and flowers one time and a birthday surprise for Dorothy another day. They are always telling me how much Oz and Dorothy love each other. (At first that made me fluctuate between wanting to puke and wanting to punch someone - now I'm like whatever. Light and Love Bitches! I have my own shit to deal with.)

 Isabella was 2 when we split up, she doesn't even remember us being married and living in the same house. The boys only remember a little.  Now that they all live with a single, dating mom it does concern me that they won't have couples to look up to as examples of what love looks like.  My parents had a great relationship but my dad passed away last year and the kids might be too young to remember how romantic my dad was with surprising my mom and making things special.  So it's good for them to see that type of relationship.

They know that ring means a lot to Oz, we all do.  Dorothy has been away and will be returning this week so Luccio was concerned that she would arrive and discover the ring missing.

So the search was on. After we all thoroughly checked the garbage bins, laundry baskets, and under every piece of furniture Oz finally gave up and went to wash his hands in the bathroom.  And... there was the ring on the edge of the tub.

We all thanked St. Anthony.  Peace was restored.

This reminded me of when one of my students asked me, "Are you a character on a TV show?"
Nope. This is my real life.
Seriously?! WTF has happened here?!

On This Day

Twelve years ago on this day I walked down the aisle, escorted by my father to meet Oz. To swear before God and family and friends that we would bet our lives on forever.  This morning, 12 years later, we met at a commuter lot to exchange our children.  It amazes me how life can change in what feels like a minute.  Forever seemed like such a great idea. When you know, you know and all that.  I was 28 years old and knew exactly what I wanted, marriage, children…a family.  Here I am today at 40 years old and I'm still trying to piece together what exactly all of that means.  Oz and I are not the same people we were that day.  I don't even recognize myself sometimes.  And very often I don't recognize him anymore.  I thought for a long time we are so aligned in our goals and dreams and vision of what was important. But, over the years since our divorce I realize we are sometimes on different pages for so many reasons.  People change. I hear that all the time in different contexts.  It's true. To some degree.  People do change.  We grow up. We grow old.  The world knocks us down.  Each time you get back up, you are changed just a little.  Each person that comes into our lives now steers our paths in different directions.  Divorce has opened our family up to new people. More people. Since I went back into the work force, my community has widened and expanded.  My children now have "school moms" that look out for and love them.  I have "work sisters" that are my support system and my team!  And my lifelong, close circle of friends all rallied around me over the years, they are my village, my family!  As my babies are growing up they have friends that they are getting to know and making their own attachments now. Each person Oz and I bring into our personal lives now become part of our children's lives.  In marriage, you trust your partner and believe and hope that they will have your best interest at heart because they love you. Divorce is different.  Its the biggest leap of faith there is. After a divorce you have to blindly trust that a person you could not keep a forever promise to will effectively co-parent the most important people you will ever know.  In the beginning I would watch my children leave with their father and think "My God my entire life is driving away right now."  After a few years this life has become our "normal."  We have found new patterns that work for us. New schedules, new routines, new rituals, new rules, and new lives. Oz and I still have our disagreements and there is no one that has ever made me feel angrier on this entire planet. But, we have also reached a place where we can talk about things that are important to us again, including the relationships we have with other people. (Nothing weird or awkward about that, right?!) At the end of the day, forever may not have been what I thought it would be or last nearly as long, but I have faith that I did bet on the right person for my children. When push comes to shove, he does have my back and I have his (even when he really pisses me off!)

*In the picture I chose, one of our sons is hiding in the background refusing to take part because he is too cool.  We don't have many post-divorce family pics. SO this one is it, LOL!

Takin' out the Trash

Divorced people arguing is similar to a dog chasing it's own tail; you go round and round in circles, but never actually make any progress. Despite an amicable divorce, Oz and I can debate pretty much anything. Last month, our son had surgery. While we sat in the waiting room we watched Good Morning America. Seemed harmless enough. One of the hosts was being given a party. I thought it seemed like a baby shower since the balloons were pink, blue and white. Oz thought it was a wedding shower because of the white balloons. I noticed a gift basket being presented to her with baby bottles in it. But, Oz insisted it must be for a wedding because he watches the show and I don't and he had heard that the woman was getting married. In the end, it was revealed that she had in fact gotten married over the weekend AND had announced her pregnancy. SO we were both right.
And then…we debated the age of one of the guests Jenna Bush. I thought she looked older, Oz thought younger. I felt her make-up and hairstyle aged her. And on and on until Oz looked it up on google and revealed her age was younger than I thought.  Score one for Oz.

Next, we got into whether or not Bruno Mars was actually playing the drums live during the Super Bowl. At that point, the woman sitting next to us spoke up. The poor soul had been trapped in a tiny waiting room with us. She said, "Wow, I can't wait to see who wins this round."  OMG! I was so embarrassed for us.

The thing is no one wins. It just keeps going. I informed her that there would be no winner, but in the end one of us would leave because we are divorced. She seemed surprised. A lot of people are surprised to find that we are divorced.  She revealed to us that she wished she could get divorced too. I highly recommended it to her. Her poor husband was undergoing surgery while we discussed her running away and never looking back.

But, that is divorced fighting. Circular. The topic can be anything. The results are always the same. There is no winner. It is not much different than married fighting, except it always ends with one person leaving.

Unlike married fighting, there is nothing sacred about it. You don't have to be on your best behavior. There are no rules like "don't go to bed angry." There is nothing to protect either person from the unleashing of built up resentment and anger.  You just dump it all out and pray the other person loves your children enough to not destroy you.

It seems at first like divorce fighting is easier than married fighting because you know how it ends. But, it is actually worse.  You have to work twice as hard to resolve issues and you have more to lose because nothing ties you. There is no contract. It is null and void.  Yet, you are bound to the children you have created and their lives can and will be destroyed by your actions against either parent. So for their mental health you work it out. You resolve issues. You move the fuck on.

No matter what we fight about we have managed to smooth things over enough to have a peaceful life. No one has any extra energy to stay angry and what would be the point of it anyway? So in everyone's best interest things get let go. Rehashed several times over and over and brought up many months down the road in a conversation completely unrelated to the actual issue.  But, let go for all intents and purposes so that everyone can live daily life without being dragged down.

One thing that has not changed is that Oz takes out the trash at my house. By Divine providence, one of "his nights" with the kids also falls on "garbage night." So after the kids go to sleep he takes out the trash as he leaves. I am more than thrilled with this arrangement. Growing up the trash was always my brother's chore and when he moved out my Dad took care of it. After I got married that was Oz's job and one that I do not want to take over. The first week on my own I had to drag the trash out and I hated it. Not that I am not capable. Just don't love it. So Vincenzo took over helping out. I reminded Oz that "garbage night" was still the same and that technically his children make most of the garbage so it is really helping them when he takes it out.  Eventually after a couple weeks, Oz took over again.

It is a simple act - taking the trash out. But, the symbolism is there. Despite our differences, our inability to make forever work, there is something sacred about the family we have created. There is a stability in knowing we will do what needs to be done to ensure our children have good lives.

Only once in the past year and a half he told me to take out my own fucking garbage.  Most times the trash is quietly put out to the curb on his way out, I acknowledge it with a thank you as often as possible.

There are other times (like after one of our more heated arguments that occur monthly or every other month) I might receive a text messaged picture of my overflowing trash can. A subtle reminder from Oz.  The line is thin, tread carefully or take out your own trash! Or it can be a sign of forgiveness for something I have said or done. Or a peace offering from him for whatever I have found fault with at any given moment. Either way that blue can sitting out at the curb on Garbage Night equals Peacefulness. There is nothing more valuable to a divorced family than Peacefulness.

The Green Chair

I feel like I have lived a lifetime since I first saw The Green Chair. It is one of the last remnants of The Ex husband, Oz's s bachelor furniture. It was in his apartment through our dating, engagement and early marriage.  Somehow it ended up making the cut of his belongings that we agreed to bring with us when we bought our house. I won't say I loved that chair.  (In fact, I won't say much of what I thought of the chair because I was only given rights to use the photo if I wasn't going to make fun of The Green Chair. )

 However, I feel The Green Chair does symbolize Oz's style.  He is retro, furniture with metal legs, Star Wars, Pink FLoyd, The Who, The Beatles, skinny jeans,  hoodies, Fluevogs, Doc Martins, Rickenbacker guitars, Apple store products.

When he first moved out he took his guitar, computer and some clothes. Over the past 18 months our house became a holding pattern~ a place I tried to survive in, Home Base for the kids and a storage unit for belongings he may want at some point like his pile of jackets and 6 foot plastic Christmas tree that I will not ever miss. After the divorce was final- slowly, but surely those things made it out.

But, The Green Chair was the last to go. This past holiday season when he moved into a new apartment it was time. When The Green Chair went out the front door, it was the end of a chapter. It had gone full circle.

I stood up that day and noticed my reflection in the mirror on my living room wall and thought to myself, "who the fuck are you?" I looked around my living room and tried to find one piece of furniture that truly symbolized who I was. I came up with nothing. Most of our mutual furniture was given to us as gifts or hand me downs or came with me from my single days. From a lifetime ago.

I used to have a pretty unique decorating style. But, after the premature birth of my babies and holding Luccio through 3 brain surgeries in his first year~ paint and patterns didn't seem so important.

But, since 2014 began I realized it is important. My children need to know I am a person with style and  love for life. I don't want them to look back and think "Who was that lady that raised us?"  It is also important that they know a man doesn't make or break me. Neither does a marriage or divorce. I don't want my little girl to grow up afraid that she will be lost if she risks everything to love. And my boys need to know that women roar loud and clear in all they do starting with their style.

So I started to take inventory of what I love as far as style goes. So far I have realized I like gold, but LOVE silver.  I LOVE purple, but sky blue is beautiful too. Ecru is actually a color and I am going to find a way to use it in my living room. I love fairies, butterflies, fairy tales, windchimes, chandeliers, and candles. I took a quiz on the Homegoods website and my style is "sassy," but I actually prefer whimsical. Thankfully after pinning a dream house on Pinterest I had some ideas to get me started with redecorating. I also had an awesome co-worker, my uncle, my nephew and his girlfriend help me with my home improvement endeavors like painting and hanging pictures. It has been fun to see this house transform. I own it, might as well make it my own now. So room by room, day by day, I am making changes and reinventing and reestablishing. Making space to live the next chapter. Hopefully, happily ever after!

Sayonara Mama

Being a single mom during the holidays sucks. Especially when you throw Fun Dad and Santa into the mix. They come along with their Elfin' energy and shiny new toys and boring Mama is up Shit's Creek without a paddle.  It isn't fun being the person that holds together a broken family. The pieces are heavy and never will fit back together like they were and yet you can't drop them because broken is so much better than shattered.

I worked like a madwoman this year trying to hold onto my house so the kids have a stable place to live and helping to start up a new school so they have a safe place to learn and thrive. And then the holidays came and pointed out every, single glaring fault of mine. The truth stared me in the face. You cannot have it all.

You can't be the person that stays and still be exciting. Fun Dad gets that role. He shows up to play a few hours a week and everyone loves him. He has no rules, if you don't want to take a bath don't. If you want popcorn for lunch, fine. Don't worry about cleaning your room because Fun Dad is picking you up and taking you out on exciting adventures. Leave your mess, your worries, your responsibilities, your nagging mother and let's have fun. Who can resist that??  I wouldn't be able to. In fact, I am jealous. I would love to leave me and my laundry piles and my nagging and go off to have fun for awhile.

In all fairness, it isn't entirely his fault. Divorce sets it up that way. It just does. The day to day has to be someone's responsibility. And it was mine when we were married. He was always Fun Dad.  Of course it won't change now. He backs up the rules and enforces them, but we all know who sets them.

Even harder than resisting is competing with it.  There is no competition. It was obvious this holiday season. When they came home on the last day of school before Christmas break, they had little handmade treasures to give as gifts. And they gave them all to their Dad. The gifts were not much, but they were all they had to give and each one had his name on them.

They went off with Fun Dad and I stayed home trying to collect myself. I had worked so much that I realized it was 3 days before Christmas Eve and I had not shopped, wrapped or sent out Christmas cards.

I tried to sop up my puddle of snot and tears long enough to pull myself together. But, to no avail. I spent more than a few hours that Saturday crying and mourning the loss of every dream I had ever had for a family and future. I pretty much gave in to every dark thought that had haunted me for the past 18 months that I had been shoving away to a remote part of my brain. But, that day it was obvious. I failed.

And to make matters lovelier Fun Dad moved into a shiny, new apartment during the holiday season. An apartment that is bigger than my house. And according to my kids it is way better than our house because it has 2 bathrooms, robotic blinds, and stairs.  I pointed out that our house has stairs too, but Luccio reminded me that "Daddy's stairs are better because they go up. Our stairs go down."

And so I had to hear about the luxury living that Fun Dad is doing and all about the new furniture getting set up, etc.  I put on my happy face and tried to listen with a loving heart. I know my babies just want to be part of his shiny, new life and it is very important that they are. I listened over and over as they told stories of the awesomeness to me and to everyone we know.

And then the final blow was dealt when Vincenzo told me that he still plans to be an engineer when he is older and buy me a big house to live in. But, he will live with Fun Dad and just visit me.  Luccio was very quick to remind us all that he is also going to live with Fun Dad like he has been saying for the past year.

Vincenzo also very generously offered that if I would like to live in Japan on the other side of the world that would be ok too, he would visit sometimes.  Thanks Buddy.  Japan?? Maybe Italy!

Thankfully, I have my beautiful baby girl. She said she would live with me. Girls with Mama and boys can go with Daddy.  Oh, Darling!! Thank you!!! The one person left on Earth that is still loyal to Mama! Those boys would leave me for a second bathroom and a set of stairs!

I had all these holiday plans and unrealistic images of us making wonderful memories of the glorious season. In the end, the kids ditched me to go sleepover Fun Dad's a couple days before and spent Christmas Eve with him. I thankfully had fun celebrating with my cousins. And I was able to have the kids home for Christmas morning to open gifts. Although that didn't go as planned either. Luccio's big gift from Santa didn't work, another failure for Mama. Our Christmas tree died and smelled like cat pee and we don't even have a cat, so it had to be moved outdoors. So our Christmas morning pics are of a pink, plastic tree Isabella set up for us. The kids were exhausted and cranky from their days of celebrating with Fun Dad. Isabella had a major meltdown and refused to wear her beautiful dress, opting instead for an orange t-shirt and blue leggings. I had a terrible sinus infection and was beyond exhausted, so let her. I even paid her a few bucks to let me brush her hair so she wouldn't look like the Crazy Cat Lady. I tried to put on a happy face, but ended up crying into my coffee.

One benefit of having Fun Dad around, is that he is fun.  And he loves those kids. So he was there on Christmas morning to make belgium waffles, which we all love! He put together all of the toys and helped everyone get set up for the day.  He kept the mood joyful. And the kids were over the moon to have us all in one place for a little while. It is good for them to know that not all traditions die with Divorce.

Later that day, it took every ounce of my being to get the kids to my parents' house. Thankfully, we went. It finally felt like the Christmas I was hoping for. My parents and brother and cousins made the day feel amazing. My parents' house is our stable place. Through the worst of times and in the best of times, my parents have been there to take care of us. The kids know it, I know it. So it feels like home. It also helped that there was a ton of food, gifts and a megaphone!

So all the cards did not get mailed, some gifts did not get bought or wrapped. My kids made new traditions without me.  But, the world didn't end. I survived it, with help from my family and a few glasses of wine.  And Isabella declared it was "the best Christmas ever!"   So I guess it wasn't a complete failure.

Daddy in the Attic

Vincenzo surprised us all when he announced his latest scheme. He plans to sell his "creations" to finance an addition on the house to build a room for his Daddy.

While he was painting his wooden model train, he pointed out that he is creative and likes to make things. He told us he wants to start peddling his crafts to have extra money.

He has it all figured out.

He said, "Then we can make a room here for Daddy. He can go in your closet to get to his room in the attic."

FYI- our "attic" is actually a teeny, tiny crawl space.

I'm not sure what is more disturbing, the fact that he obviously misses his father and wants him to move back in... or that he thinks it's ok for me to keep my ex-husband in my closet like a pet.

It's moments like this when you have to laugh or you'll cry.