One of the many disadvantages of divorce is that, like a deer in headlights, you find yourself thrust back into the dating pool – but now you’re near middle age, carrying a lifetime of baggage, your body bearing the battle scars of carrying three children, and worst of all, you have to navigate how to date in this current era of online date shopping. It’s all pretty darn overwhelming.
After 18 years of being with the same man you’ve dated since you were 19, it’s hard not to feel ill equipped for this new world of single ladyhood. Few friends can relate because everyone else your age is happily hitched. (Mind you, some days, that feels like added insult to injury.) So you have a lot of internal dialogue to walk yourself through how dating is supposed to work. (Much like the rest of my life.)
The first thing I learned was I needed to do a bit of an overhaul on my wardrobe. I was now in marketing-self mode and all my mommy khakis and baby doll tees were no longer sufficient for going out attire. The cute and sexy clothes section of my closet grew from a corner to near half. And I upped my shoe game exponentially. (DSW is very happy with me.)
Next lesson – how to sign up for these dating sites. The dos, don’ts, and better nots. Read more…
Once upon a time I was married to the love of my life, but then he left, and there went life as I knew it. Up until he left I had just spent an entire year carefully and methodically planning how I would maneuver through my life’s next big chapter – law school, which I’d known even then would require a fine balancing act juggling family, work, school and a commute that would make your head spin. I was excited, scared but excited, and ready. I’d already drawn up color coded schedules and posted them all over the house. I thought of everything. I had it all figured out, at least I thought I did.
What I didn’t plan for was my husband announcing he was leaving me the day before school started. I didn’t make a plan for that. Now in hindsight I probably should’ve seen that coming, but I really didn’t, not then. That week leading up to his actual exit and flight back to California, 1700 miles away from our family and the life we built together, my children and I watched him angrily pack as many things as he could as though he were trying to wipe our home clean of not only his presence, but his existence from our family for those last 18 years. It was horrible. And painful. Two decades of my life, hard work, and devotion were coming undone and for all the mastery I claimed in problem solving and running a solid family ship – my life had fallen from underneath me and there was nothing I could do. I was floored, and utterly broken. Read more…
I wouldn’t call my relationship with my father close, but we’ve worked on it more in these latter years. He saw my recent posts on Facebook indicating I was in town and asked me on a lunch date today before I head back to Austin. Nothing fancy, a simple lunch, but lovely just the same. He’s never asked me on a date before, but said, “..every once in a green moon, we shall have each other for a date..” which lent inference to me that we would be having more dates. At the end of our date and before he dropped me off at the airport he told me some things contrary to the man I’ve known him to be in the past – hard to please, not very affectionate, and rough around the edges.
The exact content of what he said is private and just for me and him, but all you need to know is he revealed his sensitive side, he expressed a deep pride for me I didn’t know exist until then, and he acknowledged me in a way I don’t remember he’s done before, ever. It was all quite sweet and made me think, “It’s never too late to try to do better.” (And quite frankly that sentiment applies to all aspects of life, not just in the repair of relationships.)
So this all got me to thinking… Read more…
My youngest dog, Dexter Jax, is a Pit Bull Labrador mix, at least according to the rescue I got him from last September. Poor guy was a stray bearing physical marks of abuse and it was evident people frightened him. My other dogs always favored my kids or my ex, but if you met Dexter you’d know within minutes that he’s my dog and I’m his human.
Dexter is very special to me. I don’t know if it’s due to the sad circumstances he came to me under or if it has more to do with the time frame in my life he arrived – two years after a divorce that knocked the wind out of me and neck deep in trying to reinvent myself whilst trying to figure out what that was even supposed to look like. Honestly, it doesn’t matter, I’m just happy he’s here.
It’s a funny thing the lessons he’s taught me since he arrived, some of which I knew at some point in my life but carelessly let myself forget or just stopped believing. Here are a few of those lessons.
Every semester for the last two years I’ve printed the 1L xxxx School of Law course schedule and kept it tucked inside a notebook hidden in my purse. I’ve been carrying it around as if the schedule were my own, praying that one day it would be.
In a life which I’ve devoted the better part of to raising a family, my hopes to pursue a law degree has been a secret desire buried twenty years beneath the daily conundrum of kids’ science projects, football practices, mortgage payments, the ups and downs of my husband’s business, and my own nine to five job. When you spend that much time folding laundry and refereeing sibling rivalry attempting law school seems more like a pipe dream and less than a reality. Perhaps even more restrictive of this law school fantasy of mine was that bachelor’s degree I lacked but required if my aspirations were to become anything more than an unsettled yearning in my chest. Read more…
I contemplated long and hard about writing this post. I wasn’t sure if I should be embarrassed…or proud.
I think people tend to be their own worst critics. Course, I don’t believe that about everyone. Browsing through my husband’s Facebook newsfeed, you might actually think otherwise. There’s definitely a good amount of tooting-your-own-horn going on over there. Maybe that’s why I don’t have a Facebook account. Heck if anyone wants to read snarky comments about my life every ten minutes on his or her feed. A few hours of that and I imagine people would start blocking me.
Truthfully, I always feel uncomfortable accepting compliments or praise and it’s a rare occasion I’m not kicking myself for something I wish I did better. It’s a little tiring really, flogging myself all the time. Read more…
Last summer I sent my girls to California and they came back to Texas with boobs. Mind you, little boobs, okay, mosquito bites, but still, boobs nonetheless. Now if that’s not a warning sign my girls are growing up, then the discarded toys replaced with Claire’s and “I Love Justin Bieber” accessories sure are.
I gotta’ say the most amusing thing about watching them grow up as of late is the pace, or rather the response with which each girl is treating the changes that come with adolescence. One girl has taken the oh-my-God-what’s-happening-to-me approach, whereas the other couldn’t be more welcoming. I’m not sure who I should be worried about more.
On one side I’ve got a girl who thinks she’s 11 going on 23. Her bathroom counter is littered with a curling iron, a hair straightener, four different perfumes, and a variety of fragrant lotions. She just wrapped up her exploratory hairstyle phase, too. Believe me, if I didn’t love my kids so much I’d tweet the pics of some of her hairdos for public entertainment. Read more…