Tag: Children

Divorce: A Letter to Vent

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Sometimes, Divorce happens. It’s a fact of life. This letter is written by a good friend of mine. Three months ago, her husband of 8 years left her. He claims it was because he was unhappy, that he no longer loved her. The girl on the side he was seeing had nothing to do with it, of course. His ex-girlfriend… from when he was 15. Yes, you read that right. See, this man, if he can even be called that, left his wife of 8 years and two beautiful girls for another woman. When did he do this? Why two weeks before Christmas.

For as long as I can remember, her husband, whom we shall go DB, has been a man of control. Things were done his way, because his way was best. Everyone else fell in line beside him. This is one of the many reasons he and I never saw eye to eye. In fact, frequently I contemplated stabbing him in the eye. To help my friend vent her feelings, and set the record straight, we have decided to post her letter here. She is the author over at Thoughts of A Reluctant Housewife. 

“Okay… take a deep breath. One… Two… Three. You are going to be fine, just get up and go.”

This may sound like someone steps away from tackling their fear of heights by plummeting to the ground attached to a bungee cord. Or perhaps the internal pep talk of someone about to make an important decision that could shape their life. But it is not. This is what I tell myself every morning, and sometimes even in the afternoon. You are going to be fine.

See, 15 weeks ago, my husband left me. Not just me, but my two daughters as well. Since then, I have made tremendous progress. I am well on my way to healing, and moving past the hurt. I know that I am better off without him. But that doesn’t mean dealing with everyday life is easy.

To give you some background, I thought I had a great marriage. In December, I had gone to Disney World with my parents and kids. My husband had gone to meet an ex-girlfriend for coffee, which he told me about. I did not think anything of it. We have been together for 12 years, and he dated this woman very briefly at the age of 15. I stress the very briefly part. While he was out with her, apparently he realized that he had feelings for her. So in his impossibly thick skull, this meant he could not possibly love me. So he told me he wanted to end it. Over the phone. He ended our 8 year marriage after a supposed 1 date with an ex from his childhood over the phone while I was in Disney with our kids. And now, 15 weeks after he declared he wanted a divorce, he is moving in with the other woman and her daughter to a place over an hour away from where I, and our children live. He has elected to only see his daughters 4 days a month. It was his choice.

That means I have primary custody of our two little girls. Their care is 100% on me. Shortly after he moved out, he took a month off from the girls. He was “too stressed” to take them. HE was to stressed? Before he left, I was a stay at home mom, which was a mutual decision. But when he left, it became a reality that after 6 years, I would need to re-enter the work force. Luckily, I was able to get a job as a florist, a job I had been doing before becoming a stay at home mom. However the transition was very difficult. So I started a new job, which I could only do part-time, and became sole caretaker of my children in the span of 3 weeks, and he takes a month off because he is stressed?

Through this all, DB assumes the only reason I am upset about his actions is because of my own feelings for him. Let me assure you, I do not want him back. I cannot begin to explain the feeling of disgust I have for him. What pisses me off is his disregard for our children, my children. He hasn’t seen them in weeks, and has scarcely spoken to them on the phone. And the first time they saw him in a month, he introduced them to his new family, without any regard for how they were doing to all these radical changes. 

If you were to ask my ex, he would claim I have it easy. He would claim that I receive child support, that it is more than enough. It is not. Nor does it make up for his absence in his children’s lives. What about when they are sick? Who is the one leaving work and picking them up? I am. Who is the one tucking them in at night, giving them baths, caring for their hurts and their boo boos? I am.

So yes, every morning I tell myself that I can do it. That I will make it. That I will be okay. I will let him concentrate on building his new family, while I work on gluing back the pieces to my own. Although we may have some cracks and chips, I know that my girls will be okay. My new family of three, we will be okay.

– M

Want to see more from Megan? Follow her blog, Thoughts of a Reluctant Housewife.

Apparently I’m a Bad Parent

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Message of the day: no matter how you parent, someone is going to tell you that you are wrong, that you are horrible, and that you should have been neutered. You can’t please everyone. Why bring this up? Well I received a rather interesting email from someone I interacted with (briefly I might add) on social media. It was regarding a comment my 4 year old daughter had said that I found cute, and decided to share. What was this comment that spurred such a heated letter? What horrible things did I allow my daughter to say?

“Mommy, when I grow up I’m going to marry a girl and we are both going to be princesses!”

Call the police, call social services, and while your at it, why don’t you call a priest! (That’s sarcasm, for those of you that lack a sense of humor.) This person was so completely stricken that I did not punish her for saying such, what did she say… oh yes…”heinous and ridiculous statements.” And how could I be such a “disgusting, sinful villain posing as a parent,” for no “true parent” would not allow their child to say such awful things. And what’s worse is that I was okay with it. That’s right, I told my daughter, “You can marry whoever you want.” The atrocity!

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First, my daughter is 4. Two weeks ago she wanted to marry her Grampy. I mean she marries her stuffed bear every weekend. Are you going to freak out and accuse me of allowing her to take part in bestiality? Well crap, you probably would.

Second, if my daughter grows up and wants to marry a woman, then she grows up and marries a woman. Does that affect your life? No, pretty sure it doesn’t. Unless of course she marries your daughter, in which case I will see you at the wedding. Forgive me if I punch you in the face. I promise, it will be an accident. Sort of.

Third, how is it that every generation finds some magical thing to be offended by? First there was the fight for equal rights for blacks. Then there was the fight for equal rights for women. Now its a fight for equal rights for those of a different sexual orientation. Are you seeing a trend here? People want to be equal. Why not let them? So what if you view it as sinful, its not like their actions are your sin. So kindly shut your trap.

Fourth, maybe I LIKE being a villain. Villain’s get to have more fun. And they look cooler doing it. And they get the cool powers. So there.

Just Like Mommy

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It has been happening often over the past few weeks. The indisputable proof that my daughter is my child. Don’t get me wrong, I know she is my daughter, I was present during the labor after all. But its the little things that prove she is in fact a miniature me.

Don't let that smile fool you...

Don’t let that smile fool you…

For example, she is a sarcastic little brat. Yup. That’s right. I called her a brat. With her big brown eyes, and sassy little mouth, she shoots out a retort that leaves you momentarily speechless. The way she props her little hand on her hip, and somehow manages to look down on you, despite being a good 2ft shorter than you. The way the sides of her lips tilt up in a cheeky smirk, and her little eyebrows raise in a perfect arch. She. Is. Me. Well except the eyebrow thing, I cannot for the life of me make my eyebrows do that.

Last night, the little she-devil got into the fluff. I noticed she disappeared into the kitchen for a good few minutes when it suddenly struck me. She was getting into stuff. Not just any stuff, the fluff I had just used for their hot cocoa. (Because fluff is way better than those puny marshmellows SwissMiss gives you) As I move, loudly I might add, towards the kitchen, she pops her head out with an innocent smile.

“What were you doing?”

“Looking at stuff.”

“Oh? What were you looking at?” She lets out a dramatic sigh and looks to the ceiling.

“It’s a kitchen, mom, I was looking at kitchen stuff.” She’s not even 5 yet, she’s not allowed to call me mom! I am still mommy, dammit!

“So the fluff on your face just magically got there?” The dramatic look drops off her face, and she immediately tries to hide the evidence.

“I didn’t eat it.” Uh huh. Magic fluff. At least she didn’t blame her sister, I view this as an improvement.

As I investigated the kitchen, it would appear she hadn’t been able to get the cover back on the fluff in time. So I put on my angry mom face, hands on hip, and stare her down.

“Are you supposed to stick your finger in Fluff, or any container of food for that matter?”

“No.”

“And should you lie about it?”

“No.” At this point she is rocking a pout. A full pout with the big doe eyes. Not falling for it. So I tell her she can’t have dessert. The pout morphs. It becomes something I am growing very accustomed to. Pure sass.

“Really mom? Like you don’t eat fluff?” Color me surprised! I do sneak a bit of fluff every now and then! Darn her! After a quick agonizing moment of that sassy, sarcastic smirk, I finally find a retort.

“I use a spoon! Now go wash your hands!”

Kayla: 1….. Mommy: 0

Pride: A Thought on Little Doherty Girls

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Doherty Girls

Five Little Doherty Girls

The five little Doherty girls are as charming as can be

you don’t have to be their mommy to see.

Though from one family they came,

none are really quite the same.

Some are adorably tall

and others so perfectly small.

One is trickier than a fox,

and another is stronger than an ox.

One is quite sweet and another fairly witty.

The youngest, well she is just so itty bitty.

Though they are still very young

Its best not to cross them so bite your tongue

lest your mean words cause them harm.

For these little girls have just as much bite as they do charm.

Mommy, I want to be a Mermaid.

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Mermaid Mother and Child by Shijun Munns

Mermaid Mother and Child by Shijun Munns

This little declaration from my open minded three year old was made last night, shortly after my copy of The Little Mermaid arrived in the mail. We were sitting on the couch, preparing for bed when she smiled up at me, her big brown eyes wide with joy.

“Mommy, I’m going to be a Mermaid when I get bigger.” She said it with such reverence, such confidence, such elation and I could not help but feel so proud of her.

Younger and younger, children’s imaginations are being stripped from them in an attempt to educate them on the real world. The magic of being young is losing the war against our perceived reality. In fact, I recently read an article where the writer actually encouraged parents to dissuade their child from creating unobtainable goals, such as being a mermaid, because it sets them up for failure which leads to decreased self esteem.

Well you can dissuade your child, Mrs. Big Shot Parenting Writer, but I will not. My daughter will grow up to be a mermaid, do you know why? Because when I am swimming, I AM a mermaid. When I am in the shower singing horribly off tune, I am doing it to an audience of millions. When I walk down the street, you bet your pretty little behind that flash mobs are dancing around me like they do in Disney movies. Why? Because unlike you, I don’t believe reality is confined to what we see. Reality is what we make of it, and is unique to us all. Where you look at a child flopping chaotically in the pool, I see a mermaid splashing about with her very own purple, sparkly tale.

And there is nothing you can do about it.

New Beginnings

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2013-4Am I the only one that thought the holidays snuck up on us? Then quickly vanished before you could really enjoy them? It was early November, not even that cold yet when suddenly everything changed. Suddenly it was three days before Christmas, and I realized I have not even started my Christmas shopping. I therefore waited in line at various stores to buy my gifts in true last minute fashion. I also noticed that I was one of the only females in line, and found the fact that I lacked all the preparation my gender seems to favor fairly amusing. Alas, I was never good at planning things out, and unfortunately last-minute shopping is quite common for me. This year I had an excuse, however, and it is this very excuse that has also kept me away from posting here, and completely disappearing from all internet related activity. You see, my honeymoon was a little too successful, and my husband and I are expecting another child.

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Though we are thrilled of the news, I cannot say pregnancy and me mix very well. In fact, I despise it. I know the whole thing is supposed to be magical and wonderful, you know the whole creating life bit. But let’s face it. Pregnancy sucks. You ache, you puke, you bloat, you swell, you get fat, you cry at the SPCA commercials, and if you’re like me, you get so sick you need to be medicated. Yup, that’s right. This little momma-to-be has spent the past two months praying to the porcelain gods for hours on end, and when my stomach has emptied it’s contents, passed out on the bed because I can hardly move. Then let’s not forget the bundle of other complications, but let’s move on. As I said, pregnancy and I do not mix.

It would appear though that I am on the mend, and I am quite happy to be doing better. Biggest hurtle right now? Cravings. All I want to eat is red meat. Oh, and did I mention poultry makes me inexplicably sick? Seriously, do you have any idea how hard it is to plan meals when you can’t eat chicken? Not to mention seafood (since I hate it) or even worse, most soups? It’s freaking annoying that’s what. I know I know, it will all be worth it in the end. Come July, the new baby will make me forget all the awful things I endured during my pregnancy.

For now, I am back and will be posting about my pregnancy, as well as how my current little one is taking the news. Currently she is ecstatic and can’t wait to meet her baby sister. She refuses to acknowledge that it may be a baby brother. She says baby brothers pick their noses, so she wants a baby sister. She says if we have a boy, then we will just have to “go buy a new one.” Children are quite adorable.

Well, I hope you all had a wonderful holiday season, and may your 2013’s be off to a fantastic start!

And Then They Do…

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When I was pregnant with Kayla, I couldn’t wait to give birth. If I could have, I probably would have fast forwarded through the entire pregnancy just to meet my little girl. In all fairness, I did have an awful pregnancy that resulted in bed rest, but nevermind that. I still could not wait for the day that I had her. And then I did.

They said she was not ready yet, but she apparently had plans of her own. On the day of my 34th week, she came. Quickly, I might add. I had my little girl, and I couldn’t wait to hold her.

Then I couldn’t wait to take her home. Then I couldn’t wait until she slept through the night. Then I couldn’t wait for her to sit up. And then she did all of these things.

Last night I realized something. At every pivotal moment in my child’s life, I have always been a step ahead.

Oh wow! Look hunny! She is crawling! Oh I can’t wait for her to walk!

I know I like to say I enjoy every moment of it as it happens, and I do. But there is always the excitement for the next step.

It wasn’t until last night that the realization dawned on me that my daughter really is growing up. It wasn’t because of some milestone I had been anticipating, it just happened out of the blue. She is picking up things, and putting them into different contexts. Yesterday, I told Kayla that I had to go back to work tomorrow.

“You have to go to work namorrow?” (for some reason, that’s how she pronounces tomorrow)

“Yup. It’s Monday.”

“Oh. I go to work too!”

“Oh! You have to go to work tomorrow too?”

“Yeah, I need some money in my pocket do I go to work too. I money hungry!”

Perhaps I shouldn’t be so surprised. My step father is always saying that he is money hungry, but it represented something more. She is having her own conversations, and understanding what they mean. It was bittersweet. She is a little person, not just a toddler.

This reminds me of the song Then They Do by Trace Adkins, which conveniently was my father/daughter song. You look forward to all the things they will do as they grow up, and then they do and you don’t realize how much you miss the past.

So, treasure your children. Or your pet’s. Or your siblings. Things are always changing, and you will never regain that moment again.

Kayla and Kylie a few weeks ago at Loon Mountain Village – Picture taken by Mark Richard

Of Cookies and Tantrums

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Dear my beautiful, charming daughter;

You are currently in your room, face streaked with tears. Your little nose, by now, will be filled with boogies, and your too-big-pants are most likely drooped halfway down your bum. You are throwing a tantrum, and a sizable one at that, while I sit on my computer typing this away. Every now and then I can hear you murmur mommy, before the crying picks up once more.

Some may think me cruel for listening to your tantrums, refusing to cater to your needs. I am sorry I did not let you have a cookie, seeing as how we will be eating dinner in less than an hour. I am sorry you found this so unfair that you threw yourself upon the ground screaming out your anger. I am sorry that as I sent you to your room you decided to stomp your adorable little feet and through a little terrible-two-tantrum.

I was patient, at first, ignoring your whining and grumbles. I even used the nice voice and made you smile. But the moment you heard cookie after dinner, the battle was lost. The face contorted, the lower lip quivered, and your little mouth parted to issue the first of many toddler screams. These little shrieks of indignation and anger only increased as you sat in your room, angry at mommy for daring to say no, but that is okay.

Four minutes have passed, and by now you have quieted. I can hear the door open and close as you contemplate exiting. Your cries have stopped, but your temper is still in full force. The little pout on your lips, and the soft sniffle as you look in my direction is proof enough. That is not your I-am-sorry pout, that is your you-yelled-at-sweet-little-me pout. Well, my beautiful little girl, pout all you want. You still can’t eat the cookies before dinner. And now, now you can’t have them after dinner either.

With Love,

Mommy

 

Children: A Thought on Personalities

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Children: A Thought on Personalities

If possible, her smile is even cuter now!

That pretty, charming little smile gets me every time. She grins from ear to ear, and her little eyes light up. Then, in a cutesy little voice she tells me she loves me. I can feel it working. My anger begins to crumble, my mouth twitches as it attempts to smile despite my best attempts to stop it. My hands firmly stationed on my hips begin to slacken. She knows it too. That little twinkle in her eye gets brighter and brighter. Somehow her previous tantrum doesn’t seem quite so bad anymore. I am weak!

Now there are still certain things she does that no amount of the cutesy face can calm that raging parental anger, such as the last time when she threw her cereal bowl, which was of course filled with milk. However little things, like her getting in trouble for hitting our dog with her over-sized teddy bear, just seem so… miniscule compared to the power of that adorable little smile.

Take the past week for example. My daughter is a whirlwind of mess. She can destroy a room in less than five minutes. Given the right amount of sugar, that five can quickly drop to one. She plays with a toy for about ten seconds until she decides it is no longer worth her attention, then moves on to the next. Much to our annoyance, she usually leaves this toy on and upside down so that some random key is pressed and it just keeps repeating whatever noise that key causes. Do you have any idea how annoying that is? Didn’t I make a rule when I gave birth to her that no one was allowed to buy her toys that make loud noises? Where the heck did all these things come from! If only I could find my screwdriver, I would yank those batteries out! However that would just cause more mayhem.

She is proudly rocking her Auntie’s Versace sunglasses 🙂

You see, my daughter is a lover of broken things. If it doesn’t do what she knows it is supposed to do, she follows us around the house repeating, and I stress the repeating, this conversation…

“Mommy, it broken!”

“Uh oh, why don’t you play with another toy?”

“No, you buy new one.”

Now, I have no idea where she got this buy new one thing. My fiancé and I do not spoil her, and we do not buy her many toys. Most of them she either steals from my mother’s daycare, or a certain sister of mine buys them for her. Don’t deny it! You spoil her and you know it! It used to be “You fix it.” But apparently she has entered into the “buy me this” stage.

How cute are those boots? To this day she still loves them, although they no longer fit!

Luckily, as we do not buy her many toys, when we go to the store she doesn’t ask to be taken to the toy department. Seldom does she ask for us to buy her a new toy, unless of course a current one is broken. Instead, the most common thing she asks for is to buy her shoes. This is completely and totally my fault. I am a lover of shoes, and my love has transcended to her. We cannot walk past shoes without the two of us going “Ooo new shoes!” My poor fiancé is then left trying to drag us both away. She is also obsessed with sunglasses and purses, again which is totally my fault. I love buying them for her because she just looks so darn cute walking around in her little aviators and a bright little purse seating on the crook of her arm.

So is this buying trait my fault? Probably. However I think I might still blame my mom and my sister. It is much easier that way! If I take responsibility, then I will have to stop buying her those cute little shoes, and there is no way that can happen. Fall is here, and do you know what that means? It means it is time to buy boots! I can’t wait!

Are there things that you notice yourself buying your children a lot? If so, what is your “spoil” object?