3 Days in the Life of a Blended Family of Seven

            I am a planner.  Google calendar is my friend.  I have five kids’ and two adults’ calendars on my phone with alerts programmed to mine and theirs (though the youngest two don’t have phones yet).  If you don’t put it on the calendar, I make no promises.  Even with the best laid plans, in my life in a blended family of seven, I often resort to hanging on to the top spinning with controlled chaos and waiting for the slow steady revolution of a calmer day…that if it comes, lasts only until you have a split second to breathe and it spins again. 

It started on a Friday afternoon around 4:00.  Up to that point, my day had been relatively uneventful.  We were going to have the three teenagers scattered for the night, but rides were arranged and I was planning a low-key dinner-and-a-movie evening at home with the younger two.  Then I got the email.  And the chain of events, thought not all directly related, unfolded over the next three days and the top began to whir. 

            “I am not going to make it home in time to go get the check, so can you go by and pick it up?  I will send directions.  By the way, I forgot my phone at home today.”

            Okay, so, I knew he forgot his phone at home since he drove two hours out of town and I hadn’t heard from him all day and when I checked, it was still on his night stand.  And I knew I might have to go pick the check up.  But considering it was 4:00, and I had not heard from him (after all, he was with people with phones) and since he had to pick the girls up from their mother’s by 6:00, I thought he must have gotten out on time.  When I got his email at 4:20, I was at the grocery store getting dinner.  I flew home, dropped the groceries, got back in the car and raced to his office.  While reading his email telling me to hurry up and respond so he could get to the girls (seriously?), I missed my turn, drove 10 minutes out of the way because I am still learning my way around my new city, and barely made it to get the check by 5:00. 

           

            Phew!  Now the relaxing evening can begin, I thought as I drove at a more reasonable pace to drop the check in the ATM and stop to get a bottle of wine at the Rite-Aid and get $20 extra for the one going to the movie later.  Wrong.  When I got home, his phone rang and it was daughter #1.  She began to explain a change in plans that included her mom dropping her off at a birthday party (this was planned) and then bringing daughter #2 to our house instead of him picking her up as usual (this was not planned).  Apparently the ex had left him an unreceived message indicating this change earlier in the day.  I explained the forgotten phone situation to daughter #1 and told her I couldn’t get a message to him, but if needed, daughter #2 could be dropped off at our house and he would just realize it when he got to her mother’s house.  Long pause for relay of this information to the mother followed by the mother taking the phone (big sigh!).  A repeat explanation of the forgotten phone and she is dropping daughter #2 by our house.  Daughter #2 gets dropped by (late) and I race to the mother’s house to try to catch him so that he doesn’t worry why she is not there.  Before I make it, my phone rings and he is calling from our house.  Oh well, I tried. 

            I fixed dinner (late) and fed those that were home.  Son #1 was at the football game playing in the band, daughter #1 was at the birthday party and son #2 was headed out to the movie.  Husband and I caught each other up on our day before I started son #3 and daughter #2 toward bed.  By the time they were in bed, husband leaves to get oldest two home by ten.  All go to bed and I lay half asleep waiting on son #2 to get back from movie that he shouldn’t have been allowed to attend because the 8 o’clock show was sold out and the 9 o’clock ended past his curfew.  Oh well.  I tried. 

The next two days went something like this:  Son #3 (who is kid #4) and I arise at 5:45 am to get to his swim meet an hour away.  Husband and kids 1, 2, 3 and 5 get up thirty minutes later to squeeze in every ounce of sleep and meet us at the swim meet.  Meet ends by noon, we grab lunch and everyone goes to get a Christmas tree since the next time we are all together will be two weeks away.  I skip the tree purchase to run by the store to get hot chocolate and jeans for son #2 who told me the day before that he only had one pair for his upcoming week-long trip with his father.  Husband bought tree with lightning-quick speed and calls to see where I am.  I rush home to get decorating started.  Son #2 thinks that everything is taking too long and moves from the couch to couch lamenting this torture.  Son #3 and daughter #2 are giddy and “helpful” getting into everything and impatiently waiting to be able to put the ornaments on.  Son #1 keeps disappearing to play guitar and/or text his girlfriend who he is trying to arrange to come to the movie in the street downtown later because we are trying to fit some “fun” into the weekend.  Daughter #1 helpfully puts lights on the tree in the foyer only to discover when she gets to the end that she has a receiving end plug for the lights and can’t plug them in to the wall.  “I have a problem” is followed by her walking off and leaving me to re-do the lights.  We finally got things decorated with EVERYONE pitching in like it or not, and in the midst of me making popcorn and daughter #1 making hot chocolate (or should I say “burning” hot chocolate) to take to the movie, I realize I have not considered that this brood might need to eat dinner and we are minutes away from leaving for the movie.  We stop to grab dinner at a drive-through and eat on the way to the movie.  We get to the movie and set up seven camp chairs, distribute popcorn and burnt hot chocolate, console son #1 whose girlfriend cancelled to get her ears pierced and shivered though an unusually cold (for Lower Alabama) night.

Sunday, son #3 and I got up at 6:00 am to get to Day #2 of the swim meet an hour away.  Husband and kids 1, 2, 3 and 5 slept late and went to church.  Son #3 and I grabbed a calm lunch on the way home, arrived home to get son #1 ready for symphony practice and then youth group (which he now will not miss due to the girlfriend’s attendance of the same group), got daughters #1 and 2 ready to return to their mother’s and got sons #1, 2, and 3 to shower and make lunch boxes before hitting the bed.

Husband and I hit the bed not sure how we were going to get up the next day and realizing that we have not gone to the grocery store for the week.  Oh well, we tried.

A Lesson in Bravery

I am not gay.  As a non-gay person who supports gay marriage and gay rights, I have seen things changing for the better.  The recent Supreme Court decisions knocking out the Defense of Marriage Act and Proposition 8 are exciting and have us, as a country, heading in the right direction.

I am also not naïve.  I am not blind.  I see enough to know that things still are not easy for my gay friends.  But because I do not live their experience every day, I sometimes forget.  I forget that it can be a daily struggle to feel accepted by others.  I forget that it can be a daily struggle for them to accept themselves.  I forget that they do not have all of the rights and benefits that I, as a straight person, have.  I forget that they struggle to have their families accepted as “normal” by whomever thinks they have the right to define “normal.”

Recently I have gone through a period in my life in which people have said negative things about me that are not true.  I spoke to my friend Morgan Reid during a time when I was struggling with worry about what people thought of me.  Morgan, at the ripe old age of 20, taught me what it means to be brave.

Morgan is from Pensacola, FL.  Pensacola, ironically, hosts one of the most well-attended gay pride weekends every Memorial Day weekend, yet remains one of the most conservative areas of the country both politically and religiously.

So when Morgan came out in high school, not only did her family struggle with reconciling their faith with her sexual identity, she struggled with it as well.

“My family went through phases.  There was crying, they were very emotional.  My parents are very religious, so they didn’t know how to fit it in with how they saw my life.  They weren’t really sure how to handle it, so we fought a lot,” Morgan said adding that now her parents are completely supportive and were very welcoming to her ex-girlfriend.  “They are pretty good, but it took time.”

Morgan admits that she had to work through how her faith and her life fit together.  She had been taught in Sunday school her whole life that homosexuality was wrong, and she had a vision of gays as being big burly, sharp-toothed men trying to get little children.  While her parents have not discussed how or if they have reconciled their faith with Morgan’s lifestyle, Morgan has reconciled it for herself.

“I have been through a lot of theories on it.  My perspective is, I have been a Christian my whole life,” she said. “ I have been a committed Christian.  I dedicated my life when I was 13.  I have been in church my whole life, and one thing they always told me was that God loves you and God created you and God doesn’t make mistakes.  For a while I thought I was a mistake, and you know, he cursed me.  Now I see it as a gift because I am able to talk to people that are totally against it.  Because of the religious aspect, there is so much hatred from that side because people don’t understand it.  I am not really sure how I feel about the scripture parts of it, but I know that God loves me and that this is part of his plan and He made me a lesbian.  So part of it is talking to people and letting them know God loves them.  I feel like this is just another part of it for me.”

Despite her own struggle with acceptance, despite living in an area of the country that is not accepting, despite being 20 years old, Morgan wants to get involved in the political dialogue. 

“I feel like it is really important because I know if anyone is facing coming out, it’s hard when you live in a country that isn’t as accepting as it should be and if [young people] are anything like I was at their age, information is really important,”  she said.

There are days when Morgan feels empowered and days when she feels discouraged.

“Some days I feel like it’s great and I’m doing an awesome job and making a difference, and some days it’s like, ‘ah man, I’m never going to win,’”  Morgan noted adding, “It’s not always fun, but I don’t feel burdened.  I feel like people have to fight for a lot of different rights.  There’s always going to be something to fight for, and I just think it’s worth it.”

Growing up in a smaller, conservative town has fostered Morgan’s desire to get involved.  She began with her own high school when she petitioned to get a book that was positive about gay marriage put back in the library after it was removed.

“At Milton High School specifically, there was a book that was taken off the shelves.  We petitioned to get it back on the shelves.  It was a book talking about gay marriage, and not in a negative context.  There was a different, really old book that is still on the shelves that calls [being gay] a mental disorder, and that’s been disproved for years,” Morgan said. “They had taken the book calling it acceptable off the shelves and left the negative one.”

Morgan believes that being politically active and letting others, especially young people, know you are there, helps with acceptance.

“I feel like people don’t know,” Morgan said. “As soon as young people know you are out, they kind of cling to you.  They will find you on Facebook, or call you because they don’t know who else to ask.  When you are getting information out there, you are letting them know that it is not as taboo as everyone thinks.”

Morgan said that in her high school, when she came out, teachers became less interested in her plans, her future and who she was.  Before that, she was a favorite among teachers.

“It is a struggle.  I think a lot of people don’t see it that way, but I think the gay community does,” Morgan said. “Really, the only difference between a heterosexual couple and a gay couple is that they have the same parts or different parts.  The love is still there, the family is still there.”

Morgan thinks that the more familiar people become with gays and the less of a taboo subject it becomes the more things will change. 

“I’m pretty sure when you meet someone, you think of them as a human being, but when you don’t know someone, you don’t have to.”

            

            The changes in Washington DC with the recent Supreme Court decisions give Morgan hope.

            

            “I thought I was always going to be on the outside, that people weren’t going to look at me with any kind of sense of worth.  I immediately felt stigmatized after coming out.  You are not really a Christian anymore, you are not really worthy of all of these great things.  You have to work harder for it, and I guess that’s not a bad thing,” Morgan said. “But I guess passing these bills makes me aware that I am not the only one and that people aren’t all the Milton, Pace, Pensacola community.  That everyone won’t look at me the way some people here will.  There is a part of the world out there that will see me as a human being that has potential and has the right to be me and not hate me for it.”

Love is Love

The best reason to attend a wedding is the celebration of the union of the bride and groom…or the groom and groom…or the bride and bride.

This is according to a recent poll conducted by SurveyMonkey in which respondents were asked to share their opinions about how activities at gay weddings compared to those at straight weddings.  In fact, 76 percent of respondents believe it. 

The poll revealed that the people by-and-large believe that gay weddings are basically the same as straight weddings.  Fifty-two percent believe that gay weddings are just as much fun, 73 percent say there is just as much alcohol, 52 percent believe there is as much dancing and 54 percent say the food is just as good.

Beth Auld of South Carolina, who recently planned and stood in as mother of the groom at her nephew’s wedding, agrees that gay couples want the same experience as anyone else when they get married.  She equates helping her nephew plan his wedding to planning her own. 

 “We had a lovely catering company.  If you walked into the wedding, you would never have known it was any different from any other wedding reception,” Auld said, “The ceremony itself was very traditional.  They chose traditional vows.  They did what they chose to do as far as how we proceeded in an out.  It was in pairs and the wedding party came down in twos.”

Auld’s nephew and his husband live in Atlanta and belong to a very liberal, gay-friendly Methodist church.  The church does not condone gay marriage, and instead performs a blessing of a civil ceremony.  Joe and Dan, the grooms, went to Iowa to get legally married, and then had the big church blessing ceremony and reception.

“They had a reading that the church typically does on Mother’s Day,” Auld said. “It was the blessings of different types of families.  We have our core family.  We have our church family.  We have our community family.  We have our world family.  That was really neat because it spoke to the fact that a family is who you make it.  That was really cool.”

Morgan Reid, 20, of Florida, who is gay, agrees that there is little difference in gay and straight weddings.  She said her church does gay weddings as well.  There is a ceremony once a year.  Couples are in a group where ten to twenty people walk down the aisle.

“It’s fantastic, actually.  I kind of love it,” she said.  “It’s a little bit different, but mostly it’s all the same.  Everybody is just as happy, just as excited.  It’s pretty normal.”

Reid noted that as a child, she thought about getting married, but didn’t really have a clear picture.

“When I was a younger, I drew a dress and it was in every color in the world, but I didn’t really have a wedding planned out,” she said. “When I think of it, it would be pretty normal.  I imagine I would follow the tradition that you don’t see your bride before the wedding, stuff like that.  The pre-marriage prayer would be something I would do.”

Both Reid and Auld are encouraged by the recent Supreme Court landmark rulings ending the Defense of Marriage Act and Proposition 8 and believe that people’s views on gay marriage are slowly becoming more positive. 

A  Pew Research Center survey in May showed that for the first time, more than half (51 percent) of Americans favor allowing gays to marry and that 72 percent of Americans believe  legal recognition of same-sex marriage is inevitable regardless of their own opinions of gay marriage.  This trend is a dramatic change from 2009 when 37 percent of Americans told Pew Research Center that they supported gay marriage.  Since 2009, eight states and the District of Columbia have legalized same-sex marriage bringing the number of states where it is legal (or will be soon) to 12.

“The majority of my [gay] friends want the same thing that everybody wants,” Auld said. “They want someone to love them, someone to respect them, someone to spend their life with and for the most part, children.”

Reid echos that sentiment.

“I will definitely get married,” she said “I am a committed person, a monogamous person.  I want to get married.  I want to have children.  I love kids.  I am a nanny right now because I want to be around children more. There are so many things I want to do.  I am so young and I have time, but I want to squeeze it all in there.” 

Why I am Proud of Daphne High School for Offering Arabic as a Foreign Language

Dear Daphne High School,

I have read the recent article posted on Al.com and would like to express my pride in your decision to offer Arabic at Daphne High School.  I have five children in public school, one at Daphne High School. I am a big believer in public education. Decisions like yours to offer and defend the offering of this course are teaching our children all of the right lessons.

I am raising my children to be be informed, to be open minded, to be tolerant of everyone alike or different, to question authority without disrespecting it. I am teaching them that they have the power to become informed and educated and by listening to others, make decisions on their own. Your decision supports my goals.

Narrow mindedness is bred by ignorance. To listen to those who have said that by teaching Arabic at school, you are teaching "a culture of hate," would be to encourage ignorance in students that limits their abilities to form their own opinions.  Thank you for ignoring that narrow mindedness.

Open- mindedness is taught by exposing children to different people, cultures, and viewpoints. By allowing them access to language and culture from around the world, you are reinforcing the idea that it is okay to be different from each other. Thank you for encouraging diversity.

Tolerance is taught by example. By allowing children access to different culture, language and religion through education, you are teaching them to embrace those who are or believe differently and encouraging open and respectful discussion.  Thank you for teaching tolerance.

Our country was founded by immigrants.  We are a country of many languages, cultures, religions and traditions.  By learning about all of our cultures and roots, by learning about all of our histories, by learning about all of our religions, we teach our children to live with an understanding of others rather than a fear or hatred of them.  Thank you for teaching that understanding makes it impossible to hate.

Providing children information from every perspective gives them the belief and the tools to change their futures and impact the world. By teaching them an understanding and practical knowledge of a different and globally significant culture and language, you are empowering our children to participate in a global market, to embrace a global perspective and to teach others these same skills thereby changing the future...maybe even reducing hate and fear bred by ignorance.

We live in an area with a great deal of diversity and however you believe, it is important for all children to know that anything is possible and barriers of all kinds can be conquered, even the barrier of judging those who are different from you.

Elizabeth Denham

Keeping Kids Out of the Middle

            An amazing thing happens to most of us when we become parents.  We change for the better.  The gravity of the responsibility and the intensity of the love that we feel toward our children hits us in the heart, and we do everything we know how to do to nurture them.  We become better people, trying to lead by example.  Often we start eating healthier, working out more, going to church, wearing seat belts.  Many times we quit cursing, smoking or driving fast.  We are keenly aware of our behavior and the influence it has over our children because we see ourselves reflected in their cherubic little (or not so little) faces.

            And then, sometimes, divorces strikes.  Divorce hurts.  It angers.  It scars.  It can consume us to the point that it is difficult to remember that our every move, every word, every action is being recorded by the sponges that are our children’s minds, hearts and souls.  To be in agony ourselves and to gather the strength to remember that we must put that agony aside for our children takes Herculean effort. 

            Putting our children first during a divorce means putting aside our own anger, hurt, betrayal and sadness, particularly when directed at our ex-spouse, and putting the emotional needs of our children ahead of our own.  Unless there are real and grave safety issues, everything must be done to preserve the relationships the children have with both parents.  No matter what your ex did or how you feel about him/her, that person will always be your children’s parent.  And that is okay.  And you are responsible for making it okay for your children to love that parent when they are around you.   

            In eight years of being divorced, I have had a lot of practice in learning how to navigate co-parenting.  There is no easy solution, but I have realized that, as bad as it can seem at the time, nothing is really the end of the world.  This realization has helped me let go of control and anger and helped me to make sure my children have whatever relationship their father gives them.  I have recently re-married, and my husband and I must try to balance our children’s relationships with each other, us and both of our former spouses.  Here are some things we have learned that take the pressure off you, your exes and your children:

·        Do not speak badly about your ex to or in front of your children.  This is something we all know, but it is easier said than done.  This includes looks, gestures and disinterest in things your child wants to tell you about time spent at the other house.  Not only should you not speak negatively about your ex, but you should encourage your children to talk to you (without grilling them) about the time they spend with him/her so that it is not something with which they associate negative feelings.  This means no limits on what they are allowed to say, and no eye rolls or snide remarks from you. 

·        Do not make the children responsible for any form of communication between you and your ex.  This includes scheduling, school information, transportation changes, etc.  Making children communicate for you forces them into a potential situation where they may get a reaction that should be reserved for you.  If they just feel a little uncomfortable giving a message to your ex, that is unacceptable and easily avoided.  Even if they seem fine with communicating messages, it is not their job.  It is yours.

·        Never discuss money with your children as it relates to your ex.  Do not discuss child support even if it is late or unpaid.  Do not discuss who pays for what.  It is not the job of children to worry about money, and it always pits one parent against the other as it is such an emotionally charged issue.  The court has decided how money is to be paid.  If you don’t like it or it is not getting paid, go back to court.  Just be sure to leave your children out of it. 

·        Accept the fact that you do not control what goes on at the other parent’s house.  If you are able to devise a uniform parenting plan with your ex for both homes, great.  If not, you must, except in the case of real physical danger, accept the fact that you can only control your home and your ex gets to control his/hers.  You cannot make rules for the other house.  This puts the children in a terrible position of having to follow rules of which the other parent is unaware and potentially lie about them to the other parent.   You cannot expect a full report every time the children return.  This puts them in the position of feeling like they are tattling or getting the other parent in trouble.  Any time a child feels guilty to you about something that occurred with the other parent, you have put them in the middle of your issues.

·        Do not ever make you children feel guilty for being away from you.  They do not need to know if you are sad when they leave, if you are lonely, if you are sick or if you are working extra hard while they are gone.  Making them feel sorry for you, again, brings them into your issues.  Further, it makes the children feel responsible for your feelings, and they are caring for you.

Going back and forth between homes is not your children’s fault and not their choice.  Give them the freedom to be happy wherever they are.  It is the greatest gift you can give to them after their family has broken.  They will love you and respect you for allowing them their own relationships, their own feelings and their own time.  So send them off with a smile and an “I can’t wait to hear all about it when you come back!”

“Hope” is the thing with feathers - (314)
Emily Dickinson 1830–1886

Hope is the thing with feathers 
That perches in the soul, 
And sings the tune--without the words,
And never stops at all,

And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.

I've heard it in the chillest land,
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.

Petals of the Fallen

This was written by my step-daughter, Hannah Denham.

Gone, but never forgotten - in honor of the twenty flowers who entered heaven's gates December 14, 2012.

Petals of the Fallen

 I came across the Painter today

His gently worn hands were spattered with flecks

of exuberant colors and hues

He used a cloud for a canvas

Red from passion mixed with the purity of white

for the pink of childhood's rosy cheeks

Dipping his fingers in the green

from virescence of recurring life,

he romanced the image to the skies

"What are you painting?"

I asked the bearded Man

with brown eyes that pierced the soul

He said not a word as his fingers worked

but I took no offense at his silence

and watched as his answer took form

Stalks of green were coaxed to the skyline

One, two, three, I counted

and when creation was complete, there were twenty

Pink blooms smeared the white space

above the stems, painted

not with precision, but untouched beauty

But then the Artist's expression changed.

Deep and anguished sadness

engraved the creases of his face

The white of the canvas turned black

with the darkening of the horizon

and the upheaval of the skies

And then it rained.

The sky opened, its quiet tears disappearing

into the shadow of uprooted innocence

I had forgotten the painter was next to me

until he exhaled into the mist, and

droplets of grief hastened from his whisper

He brushed his fingers once more

into the green of vitality,

sprouting life from the petals of the fallen

It occurred to me then -

though cut off from its source of survival

the essence of each blossom lives on.

From the rain of suffering, and from the tears shed

each spirit can grow, be revivified in the form

of a future in remembrance of the original twenty seeds.

Christmas 2004

            “Have you ever cheated on me?”  How were these words coming out of my mouth?  I was married to a “good Catholic boy,” after all.  The revelation that the “good Catholic boy” designation was self–professed came to light as I stood in the garage the day after Christmas watching my illusions that he was actually “a good man underneath it all” dissipate into a smoky haze.  New just-played-with toys were scattered all over the house, wrapping paper was overflowing the trash cans, and the boys were still riding high from candy-filled stockings and the excitement of Santa’s visit.

            I stood behind the kitchen door in the garage watching my husband sobbing.  He said his friends had advised him not to tell me anything, but he had decided to be honest and answer any question I wanted to ask. 

            “Hang on,” I said.

            The boys were two, four and six years old.  I couldn’t leave them unattended for more than a few minutes.  I opened the door to peer inside.  Through the kitchen and into the living room, I saw the Christmas tree lights shimmering, the stockings flung on the floor, toys and candy strewn about.  The smell of the Christmas tree hit me as I scanned the kitchen still covered with Christmas morning donuts and cookies.  The boys were quietly playing.  The middle one was watching a Christmas movie, the youngest was riding his new tractor, and the oldest was playing his new video game. 

            I turned back into the darkness of the garage and closed the door.  I looked around to see our life in the shadows.  Christmas boxes were awaiting pick-up. Bikes, rakes, and tools were haphazardly arranged.  Boxes of outgrown clothes were awaiting the next boy’s growth spurt.

“Have you ever cheated on me?” 

I don’t know why I asked this question.  We had many problems, but nothing I believed was insurmountable.  He was a good person underneath it all.  He was a good person underneath his white lies, misrepresentations and failure do the things he said he would do that apparently whittled away at my ability to trust him and prompted my question.

 “Um, well, not really,” he said.

Not really?  This was not a definitive answer to my question.  This question should have a definitive answer, and at that moment, I knew.  His penchant for rationalizing bored full-force into me, and I felt invisible to myself.  Everything I knew to be true was a lie.  As I listened to an endless description of what specific acts he believed constituted cheating, I felt as though I had left my body and was watching this scene from above myself. 

“Hang on.”  I had to come back to myself and check on the kids.

I opened the door again to check on the boys.  They were getting a bit restless, running around the living room, flinging toys up in the air as they giggled and shrieked.  Frosty the Snowman was blaring from the TV. 

My mind replayed the last week as I watched them.  The Christmas Eve service at church, the Sunday School Christmas party, making cookies with my parents, all of it was so normal.  I told them to finish the movie, and I would give them a bath. 

When I turned back to the dimly lit garage, I began to ask questions with surreal calm.  I had to chip away at his resistance to the truth despite him offering to answer any question. He began to sob harder and harder as he related a tale of infidelity spanning five years of our ten-year marriage. 

“Who?”

“I don’t know,” he said. 

“What do you mean you don’t know?” I could not fathom his answer as I once again had left my body, floating above and watching this happen to me.

“I don’t know who they are.”

“How many?”

“Too many to count.”

At that moment, my two-year-old came bounding out of the house, all grins and wanting to play.  The bright light of the kitchen fell on my husband’s tear-streaked face.  I stepped to block my son from seeing him, scooped him up and carried him back inside.  I asked my 6 year-old to play with him for a few minutes before their bath and I would be right back.

“I don’t have any more questions,” I said.  I turned back into the house filled with lights, music and the sweet faces of innocent, giggling boys.  I shut the garage door to the man I never really knew.  And I was free.

Free

The best way to find peace in conflict, especially in divorce, is to shift your own expectations.  It is a way of letting go.  You know bad things will happen.  You know there will be conflict.  You know there are things over which you have no control.  When you do not expect the other person to do the right thing or to make good decisions or even to make decision you would make, then you let go.  Then and only then do you regain control by controlling your own reaction.  You can have sad and angry reactions, and you have the right to your own feelings.  But you can calmly make decisions knowing that you will always try to do the right things.  Relieving yourself of the responsibility of trying to make someone else do the right thing is liberating. You are only responsible for how you live and what you teach your children.

In the Spirit of "It Takes a Village"

Dear Village,

I voted for President Obama, and thought that today I would feel very happy about his re-election.  Instead, I woke up to see anger, sarcasm, resentment and disrespect for the president and those who voted for him being expressed all over my Facebook wall.  I am very disappointed that many of you choose to be filled with hate, derision and negativity and choose to express those feelings in such a public way.  I have five children and many of you are in our "village" influencing and setting examples for them.  Some of you are friends with them on Facebook.  Decisions like yours cause me inordinate distress because I believe that you are teaching them all of the wrong lessons.

I am raising my children to be be informed, to be open minded, to be tolerant of everyone alike or different, to question authority without disrespecting it. I am teaching them that they have the power to become informed and educated and by listening to others, make decisions on their own. Your decision goes against every single one of my goals.

By showing them hate and a closed mind, you are teaching them that by having an opinion different from yours, they will be greeted with hate thus making it more difficult for them to form their own opinions and express them without fear.  Open- mindedness is taught by exposing children to different people, cultures, and viewpoints. By expressing derision of their government, you are reinforcing the idea that it is not okay to be different from each other.

Tolerance is taught by example. By showing them that when your candidate doesn't win, it is okay to attack those who voted differently from you or to attack the president or the government, you are teaching them to turn their backs on those who are or believe differently, rather than encouraging open and respectful discussion.

Our country was founded by our questioning of an authority with which we disagreed. By allowing our children to see disrespectful attacks instead of respectful discussion you are teaching them to disrespect authority instead of giving them the tools to question or change their futures.

Providing children information from every perspective gives them the belief and the tools to change their futures and impact the world. By attacking one group's views and votes, you are teaching them that they have no power to make their own decisions or to change their futures without fear of retribution.

I would like my village to have the goals that I have listed above to produce educated, informed, tolerant, open-minded and powerful children who will grow to be adults with those same qualities.  I would like them armed with knowledge as they go through school and go out into the world.

This time, my candidate won.  I have experienced the same disappointment in other elections when my choice lost.  I did not attack my friends for their votes.  I did not, in dramatic fashion,  pray to God that he would save us from the "evil" that loomed.  I think the president needs prayers for wise and just decisions whether he is my choice or not.  I did not believe that the world would end because my choice didn't win.  And it won't now.

We live in a country that provides peaceful election and peaceful transfer of power when a new candidate wins.  We need to appreciate this and recognize that many risk much more when they vote.  We need to teach our children, by example, that we can win or lose gracefully.  That we can respect the office of the president and try to support each other and articulate our opinions in ways that teach our children to be the kind of adults we would like them to be..

I want my children to be politically aware.  I want them to learn to watch and think for themselves.  I do not want to feel compelled to warn them that talking about politics with friends may not be such a good idea for fear they will be attacked.  I believe that this culture of hate and fear can turn the young away from wanting to learn about and participate in the process.  I believe that those who express hate and vilify others run the risk of denying my children the experiencing of history by making them afraid.

It does not matter for whom you voted or what your political affiliation, children and adults (because every adult is a part of some child's village) should respect the office of President, even if you do not respect the man or the ideology.

I have written my political views on Facebook.  I have made every effort to be respectful, find facts and post articles that I find interesting and support my ideas.  I have never called someone (either a political figure or friend)  a name or attacked anyone personally.  Even I began to feel disillusioned with discussion as people are very angry when you disagree with them.  That is not the path I want my children to walk.

Change starts with the individual.  If we can come together and work together, it will be harder for those in power to remain so polarized.  If you do not like the way things are, instead of ranting in anger, why not do something about it using respectful and intelligent discussion.  Call your senator, write your congressman, attend meetings.  Take you children and teach them how it works.  At the very least, before you speak or post, pause to think if what you are about to say is something you would want your children to hear or see.

We live in an area with a great deal of diversity and however you believe, it is important for all children to know that anything is possible and barriers of all kinds can be conquered. Our president is an historical figure by sheer virtue of the fact that he is our first African-American president. We should at the very least respect that.  Maybe if we all pulled together for the greater good, he could actually accomplish something, and we could teach our children in the process.

Forget Granite...I just want to survive the school year!

Having a perfectionist personality, it is difficult for me when I screw something up (for example, that "up" is a little dangling preposition...sitting out there...bothering me...but watch, I am leaving it to prove that I can).  Since becoming a single (really only) parent almost 6 years ago, I have had to learn to adjust to the fact that I just can't keep up with everything.  Accepting that is not an easy feat, I have to say.  I have learned that I am going to forget things, times appointments, homework things for the boys...it is going to happen.  And I have to let it roll.  After all, parenting is not a one-man job...and I am the only one...

So last week, the second to last week of school, all of the boys activities were coming to an end, shows, concerts, performances, parties, etc.  I was exhausted from the week before that when I volunteered every day at the theater for Luke's group in Children's Chorus.  In trying to get all of the boys schedules straight and with countless emails updating the wheres, whens and hows, my brain somehow failed to communicate with itself.

In one part of my brain, I was trying to plan for Luke to go on choir tour with the chorus.  What to pack, where to be, when to be there.  I had the list.  Get there Friday at 4, pick him up Monday at 7.  Get him packed.  Moving on the Jake's birthday party, Sunday School party, mowing grass, friend to play with Joseph.  Got it.  All planned.

In the meantime, I received multiple emails from the church reminding me that Luke was to acolyte on Sunday at 8 am.  Ok.  Got it.  We will go to the 8 o'clock church service, get some lunch, stop at the store and pick up something to take to the Sunday School party.  Ok.  All good. 

At some point on Friday afternoon before this busy weekend, my brain connected and I realized that Luke was scheduled to acolyte Sunday and wouldn't be home until Monday night.  The deadline to get a substitute name to the church office was Thursday afternoon.  Well, crap.  I debated calling around in a frantic frenzy on Friday and Saturday, but I was already frantic enough trying to get a birthday party done in the midst of everything else.  So I went to Jake.  Jake did not sign up to acolyte.  He hates to be in front of people, doesn't like to be the center of attention.  He had never done it.  I asked him to help and upon his reticence, I offered to remind him of all of the things I have done for him lately.  He politely declined my offer and said he would do it.  And he did it with a good attitude. 

The weekend ended up going smoothly and all was well in the Reosti house.  That is the lesson, really, that even when you screw it up, it usually works out in the end, right?  Oh, and thank goodness for spare kids...

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Be Not Afraid

Fear is a funny thing.  I think we all have it.  I think we all make decisions based on it.  I think we all try to control life to avoid the things we think will hurt us.  A little fear is even healthy.  You teach your kids to hold hands when you cross the street. You teach them not to swim out too far at the beach.  You teach them not to talk to strangers.  Self preservation is a very good reason for fear. 

The problem is when fear holds you back from experiencing things that could be good in life.  Fear of taking a risk.  Self preservation or self sabotage?  Both?  Caution is not a bad thing, but immobilization, emotional or otherwise, is a bad thing. 

I am trying to learn the balance. 

I think to this point, I have held on to fear as though life depended on it.  It's like a cloak that allows hiding and therefore less living.  I was shattered.  I never wanted to feel that way again.  I have a pattern that I recognize of taking a flying leap in the opposite direction of anyone or anything that threatens my little cocoon of self preservation.  And where has that gotten me?  Good question.  Not where I want to be.

The funny thing is, I am not unhappy.  I have a good life with good kids and good friends.  But there is more to be had.  I have things I want to accomplish, things I want to experience.  Do I hold back out of fear or the eternal excuse of having an overwhelming amount of responsibilities?  I do feel overwhelmed regularly.  I have a busy job.  Busy kids.  But I can do more....I can let go of those overwhelming thoughts and take a risk. 

Someone said to me recently that the worst has already happened, so why not let go?  After a couple of days of thinking about that, I decided to let it go.  Fearing something does not mean that it's not going to happen anyway.  What it does mean is that you enjoy the ride a little less.  I don't suck as a person.  I don't suck as a mother.  I don't suck at work.  And I don't suck in relationships. 

So I have decided to be liberated from my fear (or at least make a sincere effort at liberation).  In the last two or three days of my new-found freedom, I feel more like myself.  I feel lighter and easier.  And why can't good things happen to me? 


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The Rock

Someone that I know recently lumped me into a group of "unsuccessful" people.  "I am the only successful one," were the exact words used. 

I find this to be an interesting judgement.  Looking from one perspective, a sad and dark one, I guess you could say I have experienced some failures.  I had a failed marriage.  I was a stay-at-home mom (unless you count teaching ballet...doesn't really count, does it?).  I went back to work and started over in my mid-thirties. Financially it is not easy to raise three boys who are bottomless pits and have extracurricular interests, but I manage.  If these setbacks are evidence of failure, then I am a failure.  And that is fine with me.

By my definition, I am more successful than the person making this judgement will ever hope to be.  In the midst of hell, I managed to emerge from it with three well-adjusted children.  They are healthy and happy. They are smart and talented.  They are not without bumps and bruises, but I think that their trials will make them stonger, more empathetic men. 

I have a great family.  I have great friends.  I am never without someone with whom to talk or do things.  I am supported.  I have people I can and have called for help in a crisis and they are there without queston.

 I try to balance my children and my own life.  I spend time with my children and make time when I can for myself (an impossible balancing act with which every parent struggles).  I have worked hard on working my way back from a very dark time, and feel like I have found a place of happiness and fun. 

The others who were also relegated to this unfortunate group are like me...not without struggle or hardships in life, but able to make a life and be happy with what they have.  One is a working mom who, with her husband, supports her children.  She struggles with guilt over leaving them, but makes the best of it and is happy.  Another stays at home with her children but makes financial sacrifice to do so, and she is happy.  And on and on.

My definition of success is obviously very different from The Rock's (as in dumb as a...or cold as a...).  The Rock only judges success by financial achievement.  To me that is cold and heartless.  If The Rock would look a little closer, maybe the void of close relationships would be a glaring sign that that kind of success isn't really success at all. 

I don't underdsand people who chose to judge others as "less than."  That judgement in and of itself shows a lack of understanding of happiness.  The "take others down to build yourself up" mentality.  As with the ones who think I am going to hell (see previous blog post) I am in good company of others who are "unsuccessful." 

I will happily take their company and go on our merry way.  I chose not to be a rock, but a light and fluffy cloud floating happily through life.

Moving

Last night, Halloween, we went to the annual party at the Whitlocks.  They invite our Sunday School class and maybe a few others.  They make chili and everyone brings a side, and then about 45 people go trick-or-treating together.  Very fun. 

The thing that made it fun this year is that the Whitlocks are moving.  That's not the fun part...the fun part is that we are going to rent their house.  It has 4 bedrooms instead of three.  Luke thinks this is heaven.  He is the only one who has never had his own room and doesn't let me forget it.  It has a pool.  We all think that is heaven.  It is better than the house we are in now in every way.

It is a little more than we pay now, so I told the boys to be more frugal in the things that they ask for and in eating out.  We can do it, I know.  But I have noticed the the last few years of struggle, that I suddenly worry more.  It was very different having someone with whom to shoulder the burden of decision-making and worry.  Even if it was just an illusion.  And it was an illusion.  I try to remember that I was in it alone for all of those years, so now I don't have to ask an opinion, I just do it.  Still, sometimes the illusion was more comforting that nothing. 

Since I decided to make this move, I have these feelings that I don't deserve to have more and better.  I don't know why I feel that way.  Maybe it's because I have had to ask for help in the last few years.  I had to live with my parents when Joseph's seizures were still so active.  I work for my dad.  I do my job and bring in money, but I still wonder how I would do somewhere else.  I guess the bottom line is that my confidence is shaken.   It has taken time and tons of effort to get back to "normal" in the last five years.  I guess it will just take more time to feel like I really know what I am doing.

Whenever I feel like I am not where I would like to be, I apply the "Six Month Rule."  Am I better off than I was six months ago?  I think I am, and after Christmas, we can say that we are without a doubt!

I am Going To Hell

I was told I was going to hell twice in the period of one week recently, maybe not in those exact words, but still, the meaning was clear. It is always funny to me when people think that they know this for a fact. I mean, if you want to tell me to "Go to hell!" because you are mad at me, then fine. But to think you have some knowledge of my ultimate destination? Huh. Well, my confidence in your influence over the Big Man is nil. Pretty sure he gets to decide that.

The first incident was over my Facebook status. I thought it was funny. I still think it was funny. Here it is: Just passed the poor guy from the Halloween store on the corner with his sign. He was being lectured by the other guy on the corner with his bible.

Most people commented about the humor of the situation, and I agree with one who thought it was a Saturday Night Live skit waiting to happen! Nothing funnier than a guy being trapped with someone telling him (I am assuming) that he is going to hell for his job or trying to save him from it.

I certainly was not trying to make any comment on religion or Halloween. There was no hidden agenda in my status. I just thought it was funny. The comment that offended, was the one girl who wrote, "Good, I hope he got saved." Oh Lord! She was in for it. Many other friends wrote comments laughing or joking. Apparently that did not go over well with her, because she made a few more comments about hoping he gets saved, the end is near, the bible is fulfilling its prophecy quicker than we think. When she wrote that we should remember that we are all influences over our children, I had to respond. I said, "I don't think that finding humor in the situation is negatively influencing my children."

At this point, I got a message to the inbox. She wound up inviting me to her church, I guess hoping to save me from my evil ways. She even mentioned something about me drinking. I guess I have a beer in some of my Facebook pictures. Uh-oh. Evidence. I wasn't even offended until the words, "I am not judging you, but...." I have a BIG problem with that particular phrase. If you have to state something followed by "but," you usually don't mean the first part of the sentence. I'm not judging you but, I love you but, I'm not mad but, you see how it goes.

Many other friends commented that they must be going to hell as well since their churches offered Trick or Trunk parties. It was pretty brutal if you were the girl rushing to judgment.

The second incident was related to online dating. I got caught. Ugh! I was actually caught by one of my dates. It was my fault, I admit. As my sister told me later, "When you are in the 'he seems normal' phase, do not tell him about the blog. Lesson learned. And learned good.

The poor guy was hurt and mad. I can't really blame him. The blog isn't really meant for the dates to read about themselves. I had a little crisis of conscience about it. But the more I thought about it, he made the effort to look it up and find his entry. There is nothing I can do about that. And the dude really needs a sense of perspective about problems in life. After all, you don't get to cry to a first date about losing the tip of your picky finger (see the blog for the full story: youcantmakethisshitup2010.blogspot.com)

At any rate, I wrote about this date and my opinion that there are a lot of problems in life, and he needed to understand that he didn't have it so bad. He responded. He responded for three pages. I kind of think he proved my point that he doesn't have a great perspective on life. In his three pages, though, he used phrases like, "You call yourself a Christian?" And said something along the lines of "What would Jesus do?"

So here is what I think some people are missing: the idea that sometimes people just say or write things to be funny. I wrote the status on Facebook for the sole purpose of humor. It turned into a big drama because someone didn't understand that there was no motive, no statement, no nothing...just a mere observation. Getting caught by a date was unfortunate, but still, I write the blog to vent some frustration about some of my wackier dates. Mostly I write it in a style intended to be funny. If I wrote a straight story about these dates, it would just be sad. I am making a statement about online dating in general, but I really am dating to meet someone at some point. In the mean time, I try to keep a sense of humor. And let me tell you, that can be hard!

Yesterday I posted a humorous political blog on Facebook written by two women, and one of my friends commented that she found it offensive. She wrote her comment with no ill will and with good humor. We and a third friend got into a comment frenzy, but it was all with humor and levity. You can disagree with someone and still not think they are going to hell. It is about being respectful of others and keeping a good sense of humor. And not taking things so personally. Sometimes things are just funny. So thanks girls, and you know who you are.

By the way, the facebook-you-are-going-to-hell girl deleted me, and the date has yet to respond to my response. I am fine with that!

Last Year's Letter to School Superintendent

Just wanted to get this off of Facebook. I wrote this last year in response to the school district's decision not to show the presidential address to schools. The schools ended up making the address available to the teachers to show in the classrooms. I feel like not much had changed in the past year with regard to people listening to each other instead of attacking each other. Maybe one day...

Letter to the Malcom Thomas, Superintendent of Schools
By Elizabeth Green Denham

Dear Mr. Thomas,

I am very disappointed in your decision to disallow the showing of the Presidential address in our schools. I have three children in public school. I am a big believer in public education. Decisions like yours cause me inordinate distress because I believe that you are teaching them all of the wrong lessons.

I am raising my children to be be informed, to be open minded, to be tolerant of everyone alike or different, to question authority without disrespecting it. I am teaching them that they have the power to become informed and educated and by listening to others, make decisions on their own. Your decision goes against every single one of my goals.

Narrow mindedness is bred by ignorance. By not allowing them access to our government, you are reinforcing ignorance that limits students' abilities to form their own opinions.

Open- mindedness is taught by exposing children to different people, cultures, and viewpoints. By not allowing them access to our government, you are reinforcing the idea that it is not okay to be different from each other.

Tolerance is taught by example. By disallowing children access to our government, you are teaching them to turn their backs on those who are or believe differently, rather than encouraging open and respectful discussion.

Our country was founded by our questioning of an authority with which we disagreed. By disallowing our children access to our government, you are teaching them to disrespect authority instead of giving them the tools to question or change their futures.

Providing children information from every perspective gives them the belief and the tools to change their futures and impact the world. By disallowing them access to our government, you are teaching them that they have no power to make their own decisions or to change their futures.

I expect the public school system to have the goals that I have listed above to produce educated, informed, tolerant, open-minded and powerful students. I would like them armed with knowledge as they go through school and go out into the world.

Many presidents have made addresses to children in schools, and most of the time it has been used as a learning tool. I believe that you do not have the right to deny my children the experiencing of history.

It does not matter who you voted for or what your political affiliation is, children and the administration should respect the office of President, even if you do not respect the man or the ideology.

We live in an area with a great deal of diversity and however you believe, it is important for all children to know that anything is possible and barriers of all kinds can be conquered. Our president is an historical figure by sheer virtue of the fact that he is our first African-American president. Maybe if we all pulled together for the greater good, he could actually accomplish something.

28 Days

28 days. And counting. That will be October 18, the day Joseph turns eight. I really want that day to get here. I am not rational about it. I know it makes no sense. I know everything about him is different. It doesn't seem to matter. Hurry up so I can get rid of this stray thought in the back of my head. Just turn eight.

Two years ago my nephew did not turn eight. At the age of seven, Ben died of a seizure. I still can't believe he isn't here. Ben was my nephew by marriage, Joseph's cousin by blood. Since I have been divorced, I haven't seen any of the in-laws. This has been more than five years. It didn't make it any easier.

When it happened, I immediately researched SUDEP (Sudden Unexpected Death in Epilepsy). And then I re-read the book my neurologist have given me. It was not in the book. No one told me this was something to worry about. At Joseph's next appointment, I said, "This is not in the book."

It turns out that the chances of this happening are less than the chances of being struck by lightening. Ben had a more difficult time with seizures than Joseph. His medical care was different and his presentation was different. Joseph has had a relatively easy time getting controlled. This is all very comforting, on a conscious level.

On the subconscious level, I just want him to turn eight now.

His seizures are not something that limit him. He hasn't had one in 2 1/2 years. It is in the back of my mind on a regular basis. Every morning and night he takes a pill. I have to tell the parents of any new friends that he plays with or a new babysitter.

And sometimes there are things...things like the little tremors that go along with it. In kindergarten he had trouble tying his shoes. He knew how, but his hands shake more in the mornings and he was slow at it. His teacher told him that after Christmas, he couldn't get help anymore. He would have to do it himself. He panicked. A couple of weeks ago, he was taking pictures with a camera. He took forever to aim, and I said, "Hurry up! What is taking you so long!"

He said, "Well, it's hard to aim when your hands are shaking all of the time!"

Ugh. I suck.

He is a brave kid. He was brave at age two in the hospital. He is brave getting blood drawn. He is confident and funny and sweet.

Now just hurry up and turn eight.

She Should Be Granite, Too

I went to have my hair done this morning. My friend, Lana, does my hair and she had booked a woman and me a few minutes apart to let our color sit. Lana was a bit behind, so the three of us began talking. First about nothing, really. But somehow before we knew it, we were talking about everything.

We talked about my divorce, and I don't usually get into that kind of detail with a stranger. We talked about loss and fear. We talked about worry and perspective after the struggle and we laughed about my dating life (who wouldn't?)

I think sometimes you meet people to give you perspective on your own life. If anyone should be granite, this woman should. She had four children. Her third child was killed in a car accident at 15. As a parent, no one can ever imagine how you could get through the death of a child. She began talking about how she didn't want to live. It was like she was trying to will herself to die. She couldn't get out of bed, took medication to get through the day. She didn't want to get through the next minute, much less the rest of her life.

She said her older two children were in college. They stayed home for a semester after the accident and returned to school. The youngest boy was 11. Finally, her husband came to her bed with their son. He asked her if she wanted to live and she said, no. He said that if she made that choice, she should move over, because this child could not lose his sister and his mother.

Beginning that day, she got out of bed and went through the motions. She faked it until she made it. And she survived and lived. She even went back to work. It took 4 years, but she went back to work.

I can not relate to losing a child. I can relate to the fear of losing a child. As she said you have learned fear. I have learned the reality of that fear.

The interesting thing that tied us together, I think was that we had both experienced extreme difficulties in different ways, and our perspectives had been forever changed. I asked her if she found it difficult not to say, "You need to get a bigger problem," to people who complained over trivia. She answered an emphatic, "Yes!" We have both learned to keep our mouths shut at these times. And I told her I try to think that not everyone has the same strength to get through adversity and that unhappiness is not a small thing no matter how people arrive at it.

You wouldn't think in the midst of this conversation that we would laugh, but most of the time were were laughing. The moments of silence felt profound, but in between was laughter. We laughed at a story she told of her husband's cancer (see what I mean, granite) and how he went to the ER and they got hysterical over something not funny at all, probably to keep from crying. We laughed about my date who cried in his beer over the loss of a pinky finger (get a bigger problem, right?).

We were two apparently different people. She is in her 60s. I am almost 40. Her children are grown. Mine are young. She is married. I am not. But we had worlds of experiences that brought us together and I am be glad for the 3-hour, running-behind hair appointment. I hope we do it again soon.

The Gift of the Struggle

I get the phrase. That which doesn't kill you makes you stronger. I believe it. But I am to the point where if I get any stronger, I should be granite. Divorce, sick child, moving twice in 2 years with 3 small children, maintaining sanity post-divorce, maintaining sanity of children post-divorce... I mean, how strong does a person really need to be? Apparently I needed some work. And now, I am feeling like the lesson is learned and I'm good. So stop trying to kill me!

One thing I have learned in the last few years, is that there is a gift in the struggle. I have heard people talk about being able to appreciate the lows so that you recognize the highs and all of the other ways to say a variation of the same theme. I agree with that. At times I have felt like I have had my share of the lows, and I am ready for some highs.

But when I stop to think about it, my highs are the lessons and results that have come from the struggle. My boys are Jake, 12; Luke, 10 and Joseph, almost 8. My children and I have become closer because of our mutual struggle. No divorce is easy, but some are particularly revolting. I had a particularly revolting one. The thing I think I am good at is communicating with my boys and telling them what they need to know at each one's own level. I talk a lot. About how to look at life, personal responsibility, choices we make, etc. We are all very aware of each person's feelings and personalities. I don't know if we would have had the same need for closeness without the struggle.

My youngest has seizure disorder. We are lucky that he is well-controlled and healthy. But because of this diagnosis, my family has learned to live in fear. He can go years without an issue at all, but it is always there. You never have the same comfort level again. And it affects us all, not just me. My whole family watched him from the beginning. We are all afraid.

However, there is a lesson in this struggle. We are all able to feel empathy and stick together to keep him healthy. My older boys will come home from school if Joseph has been sick and the first thing they say is, "How's Joseph?" If they are sick, they tell him to stay away to keep him from getting it. We all get mad if someone exposes us to illness.

I used to write in a journal. Regularly. And then when my marriage fell apart, and my husband read every journal I had ever written in, I stopped. And I tore them up. Of all of the things that he had done to me, that was one of the most violating. I have tried to pick it up again in the last 6 years, but I just can't do it, so I am going to write here. Less personal, but I have things to write about that just don't fit into my dating one or my children's one. So here we go!

I will tell you next about the most interesting day today at the hair salon. You never know where you will meet someone who affects you with one conversation.