But then I realized that I can be honest without being vindictive, evil, catty or mean. Because, I am classy.

The first few months after he left [...]]]> I struggled with being completely honest, because of course, the internet never forgets and I don’t want my kids to read awful things about their family online.

But then I realized that I can be honest without being vindictive, evil, catty or mean. Because, I am classy.

The first few months after he left me, I listened to Sara Evans’ “A Little Bit Stronger” almost daily. It helped. A lot. And then, I wasn’t in need of it as often, and if it came on my shuffle, I skipped it, because, hey, I didn’t need to be sad.

But I still need it.
My heart was broken.
Shattered.
Obliterated.
Stomped on, smashed, and every other metaphor in the book.

I know, for a fact, I will never love anyone the way I loved my husband. It was the most unadulterated, pure, true, love (come on, look in my archives to see how in love I was with him). I may love someone more one day, or deeper, but it will never been the same.

I am damaged. I know (as the song says), I will be okay, and most of the time, I am totally okay, and have a clarity about the situation, an understanding that what happened had to happen. However, there are still days I sob, or feel this crushing feeling of sadness because I see something he would like, watch a show we watched together, see a photo, or answer the most simplest of questions from my children (I cry later in that situation–I keep my “in front of the girls” tears to a minimum). I haven’t eaten Ben&Jerry’s in over 18 months because that is what we would do–share a half pint while we caught up on TV.

I feel like I failed. And I know, it wasn’t on my shoulders alone, but, for my part in whatever happened to cause the trainwreck, I feel failure. I feel pain. I feel betrayal, I feel all of those adjectives you can imagine associated with it. I feel like I was damaged, wrong, or not good enough. “I should have worked harder to lose the baby weight, I shouldn’t have nagged him about stuff, I should have carved more time out for him and I to be a couple, etc.” I have had enough therapy to know this isn’t true, and in fact, I probably should have argued more, or stood my ground a LOT more. (sorry next serious relationship dude)

Because, the thing is: I was a good wife. I am a good friend, a good partner, a good mother–I’m a fucking fantastic person. And yes, thankyouverymuch, I realize that bad things happen to good people, and ultimately I am lucky in my situation, so spare me all of the platitudes. Please. And logically, I know…I KNOW, but my heart doesn’t seem to get it.

And it fucking sucks.

Sure, nothing is carved in stone, and things change, but when you get married (if you do it for the right reasons), you see your future with the other person, and you don’t really envision your life without them. So when you have to pick up all the pieces, it’s like you are reading a book in another language, trying to catch small parts of words to understand the whole. I feel like he has moved on with his life, and has forgotten that he ever loved me (or if he ever loved me), he left, but I am stuck in our life together–alone. I’m in the same house, sleep in the bed we shared, etc. (of course I am in the process of changing the furniture situation, but I’m not able to do everything at once).

He gets to stay at the same job, making the same salary, but I have to figure out my next move and try to juggle being a working single parent instead of a single stay-at-home parent. I tip my hat to all the single parents who aren’t as fortunate as I am, but I am still allowed to be sad and gripe and complain. I gave up my career to be a stay-at-home mom, and I REGRET NOTHING. But my thought was that I was going to get a part time job after the kids were old enough to be in school full time, so I could still be there for them in the afternoons when they got out of school. Now–that may not be a viable option.

I guess I feel like I keep getting shit on, and every single time I shovel all the shit off of me, here comes another dump.

And it fucking sucks (I think that bears repeating).

But here is the time, my annoyingly optimistic side comes into play and I end it with a positive.

I’m the fucking luckiest mama ever, and I wouldn’t trade any of this pain in if it meant changing anything about those two amazing girls of mine.

And, I know I’ll be okay…even on my weakest days.

2012 December 16th: [...]]]> Much like my previous post this one is full of all the facebook status updates that I posted to document the funny things my kids do or say. And, like said previous post, anything that wasn’t in the status update but is needed to explain something is in italics.

2012

December 16th: Sophia: “I can swish my hair like one of those swishy hair ladies” (swings hair from side to side) and then I can pretend like some boy met me or something.” Thanks shampoo commercials.”

December 19th: Yesterday, “Walking on Sunshine” came on the radio. Olivia got excited & proclaimed “Oh, this is the song I danced to at my recital one year.” I nodded to the affirmative. “Yeah, that was my first year, when I was a Tater Tot” I looked confused for a minute, then realized She meant TINY TOT (her dance class name that year). Lots of laughter ensued.

December 20th: “Mama, I’m not gonna drink toilet water.” Good to know Sophia, good to know.”

December 26th: Sign your kids have been watching too much Phineas & Ferb: Sophia, using a pair of oversized tweezers she received with a magnifying glass: “I’m gonna use my pick-up-stuff-inator!”

December 28th: Playing Sorry with my children is scary. There are plans, plotting and evil laughter involved.

2013

January 3rd: Tonight I was brushing Sophia’s hair, which has become increasingly knotty. After I relayed this to her, you could hear her making word connections, and she started laughing: “Hair, did you get any Christmas presents? Because you’ve been knotty!”

January 16th: Happy Half-Birthday to my spunky, sweet, “SophieMad”. She is smart, funny, makes me laugh daily and gives some of the best hugs and kisses around. I hope she changes her mind about “Never getting rid of mama until I’m 18″ ”
(Later that day): Today, after school, Olivia’s teacher came to me: “It’s not exactly against the rules, and she didn’t get in trouble for it, but I thought you might want to know that Olivia gave Thomas $5 of her tooth fairy money because he said he wanted to buy a playstation3.” On one hand: AWWW On the other: Don’t be giving your money to boys, Olivia! I had a talk with her about not bringing money to school unless it was sanctioned by mama.”

January 17th: Today, for the first time in a very very long time, I sat on the living room floor, camera in hand and snapped natural light candids of the girls pouring over cookbooks. My heart is happy.

January 28th: Sophia has a 102 fever. Poor baby is legitimately pathetic and not being dramatic. I prefer the drama queen routine.

January 31st: “Mama, I think my legs are tired after that jog.”
“Sophia…you were sitting in the jogging stroller watching the ipod, you did no jogging, I’m the one that did all the jogging!”
“But still, they are tired.”

February 3rd: “Those SF guys shouldn’t be so sad…at least they tried!” –Olivia on the SuperBowl

February 4th: Registered Sophia for Kindergarten today. MY BEHBEH!

February 7th: Sophia: “Mama, is your tummy mad at you when it growls?”
Me: “No baby, it just means you are hungry.”
Sophia: “Well, maybe it is mad because you haven’t fed it any food.”
Me: “Well, I guess that’s a possibility.”
Sophia: “My tummy is a girl.”
Me: …
Sophia: “Yeah, maybe we should put some lipstick on it to make sure everyone knows it’s a girl.”
Never a dull moment…

February 18th: Overheard: “If you don’t have a heart, you don’t have a soul, and if you don’t have a soul, you don’t have a you. If you don’t have a you, then you aren’t alive.” Olivia to Sophia while taking a bath together.

February 20th: While I don’t MIND waking up with my children in my bed (honestly!) I wish Sophia would learn that laying sideways pushes me off the bed. But this is the first time in a long time I’ve gotten up before them, so #upside?

February 23rd: Olivia (to Sophia and I): “I feel like I am home when I am with you guys”
If you need me, I’ll be in a puddle on the floor.”

March 5th: As a parent (or caregiver to children in any capacity), you will find yourself yelling things you never thought were possible. I’m hoping no one other than the children (and Traci) heard today’s slip-up. The horrible thing is that I KEPT saying it over and over again, not realizing what I was saying…
“WHY are there croquet mallets in my bush? Who threw croquet mallets into my bush?” But what’s worse? Even after Traci pointed it out (and we died laughing at the inappropriateness of it all), I later found myself saying (as I was extracting said mallets from THE bush) “You put the balls in my bush too?? Why in the world did you throw balls into my bush???”
I need a nap.
Also? You are welcome.”

March 8th: Someone please tell me where Sophia learned to say “I’ll be here all week” after she says something she finds hilarious…

March 13th:
M: “So, you want a peanut butter & jelly sandwich, right?”
S: “Correctamundo!”
M: “Correctamundo?”
S: “Yes, that’s how French people say it.”
I guess linguistics aren’t for everyone.

March 15th: Sophia has been holding out on me–the little booger can read & has been pretending she can’t. Oy…

March 23rd:
M (to Sophia): “You know, you are my sunshine.”
S: “And you are my moonlight.”
I die.

March 28th:
Sophia (who is sitting in the rear of the van): “Oh Marci, please help me!”
Me (turning the radio volume down): “Marci?? Who is Marci??”
S: “NO…MERCY–and Mercy is…God’s son…no wait…that’s not right. Mercy is God’s husband.”
Me: “Okay…so is God a boy or a girl?”
S: “She’s a girl.”
M: “Awesome.”

March 29th: Tonight’s family movie night pick: Spooky Buddies…Olivia chose the movie & went on to explain that it uses personification. Don’t mind me, I am in the corner, picking my jaw up off the floor. (Btw: possibly one of the worst movies we’ve watched to date).

April 2nd:
Sophia to Olivia (While shopping): “1958! That’s an old purse!”
Olivia (kind of exasperated): “No, Sophia, that just means that is how long that company has been making purses and earrings and stuff.”
Me: “Wow, I’m impressed you knew that, good job!”
Olivia: “Yeah, it all came from my brain–I know about stuff.”
Indeed.

April 4th: Happy Half-Birthday to my first-born, Olivia Dawn. My brilliant, introspective, beautiful brown-eyed girl. She makes me laugh, amazes me daily and makes my heart burst with pride just by breathing. Having her made me a mama, but raising her has made me a better person. She keeps me on my toes and makes me think–always asking questions and wanting to know why (“Mama’s not sure, but I know how to find out!”). One day she will “create a potion” or “discover something” but for now, she’s happiest reading her books or building something out of Legos…I hope she always marches to the beat of her own drum.

April 5th: “I’m kind of a nerd…but don’t get me wrong, I’m going to make a lot of money one day.” –Olivia  That’s my girl.

April 7th: After going in to tuck Sophia in bed, she looks at me and says, “I will always love you…until it isn’t fair…” Confused, I ask “What do you mean?” She dreamily says “I have no idea what I mean.” She then proceeds to burst into a giggling fit. At least she’s honest.

She’s six and a half.

My baby is SIX AND A HALF!

Some people may find celebrating half-birthdays silly, but I am not some people. She doesn’t get gifts, we don’t sing a song–I simply make today a little more…Olivia-centric. I’m making one of her favorite things for dinner (rotisserie [...]]]> Today is Olivia’s half-birthday.

She’s six and a half.

My baby is SIX AND A HALF!

Some people may find celebrating half-birthdays silly, but I am not some people. She doesn’t get gifts, we don’t sing a song–I simply make today a little more…Olivia-centric. I’m making one of her favorite things for dinner (rotisserie chicken) and will have a cupcake for her to enjoy afterwards.

I think having little traditions like that are important. They aren’t much, but they are things that they will remember. Or at least, have (many, many) photos of.

I didn’t have very memorable family traditions growing up. There were some, of course, but typically they involved the major holidays. I knew there would be Christmas breakfast at my house, lunch with my mom’s family, and dinner with my dad’s family. My sister and I had it down to a science, exactly how much food to eat to make sure we didn’t explode by the end of the night, and which grandma made which dish the best.

But, I yearn for more than that for my little family. My best friend and her family have a tradition of going to opening day at Dodger Stadium–she’s been doing it since she was a small girl and she still does it! I think that is amazingly awesome. I want that. Or something like that. And lest you think I’m overcompensating, I’ve always been kind of a nerd about traditions. (I’ve written about some of them before), and it has nothing to do with my newly-found single parent status (okay…maybe a little).

I’vve been toying with a few: Disneyland to kick off summer vacation, which, we did do last year, so I want to keep it up. Daily photos of Olivia’s (and now Sophia’s) choices for school outfit–I’m not sure if they will allow me to continue this, but it’s been fun. Family movie night every Friday has been something both girls really REALLY love and they talk about it all week, so I hope when they are older and have little mini-lives of their own they still want to have them every now and again. The girls went to their first Dodger game last year, so I want them to do that at least once a season as well.

But what about you? What traditions do you have? Are there any you plan to begin?

I don’t have anyone to vent to–I honestly feel like I am drowning.

I want to be a great mom, that mom who never complains, who never says it’s hard, but…

IT’S FUCKING HARD.

And I feel like I am failing. I really do. Why can’t I fix it? Why [...]]]> I sit here tonight…frustrated.

I don’t have anyone to vent to–I honestly feel like I am drowning.

I want to be a great mom, that mom who never complains, who never says it’s hard, but…

IT’S FUCKING HARD.

And I feel like I am failing. I really do. Why can’t I fix it? Why can’t I make them feel confident and secure in the fact that I am not leaving them? What am I doing wrong?

Without fail, every morning, I wake up with Sophia in my bed. 6 nights out of 7, Olivia is there too. And that’s okay. The girls’ therapist (yes, my children are seeing a therapist–I dare you to judge me) says that they are still young enough, and it is a feeling of comfort for them. I don’t really mind it most of the time, and honestly, it is comforting for me.

My problem lies with the incessant bedtime battles. While they end up in my bed sometime after I have fallen asleep, I REALLY REALLY need the time between 8-midnight-ish (whatever I can get, really) to decompress. I need to watch TV shows that are inappropriate for children, have a friend over for dinner or to hang out, read a book, goof around online, sometimes I need to do actual work for the various committees I am on–just be NATALIE for a few hours after being everything to everyone else for 20+ hours every day. And they are slowly fighting me for those precious few hours I have to myself. I have tried to explain to them that I need time to do grown-up things, etc. etc, but the tears, requests to sleep in my bed and the constant jack-in-the-boxing out of bed are driving me to drink.

I’m losing the line between “being sensitive to their feelings of abandonment” and “they are just using your guilt and being normal kids” and I don’t know what to do. I try to be firm. I try to use all of the positive parenting skills I have in my arsenal, I am in communication with their therapist who gives me many positive tips and ‘tricks’ (if you will), and most of the time, I am okay. Most of the time, I don’t lose my shit. But then sometimes (like tonight) I am overstressed, exhausted and at the end of my rope and/or the girls are tag-teaming me and it’s two against one. It’s on these nights that I burst into tears, fall on the floor, and beg the universe to please help me make it better, please help me find the words that will comfort them, please help me reassure these amazing little creatures that I am blessed with, that I will never, ever leave them of my own free will. I will never ever choose another person over them…I will never ever quit or give up.

I am tired. So tired. And angry. Which makes me feel guilty. And the cycle continues.

I’ve been a single mom for 18 months. I thought it was supposed to get easier?

After I wrote that, the voices in my head laughed their asses off.