Tonight, my son is having his first sleepover at his dad’s new house, the one my ex moved into with his girlfriend/mistress, the house I didn’t know existed until I got my Cavanaugh back from a visit on Saturday. I’d planned to drop him at his dad’s apartment but got a text to meet him . . . → Read More: I Don’t Know What I Don’t Know
One of the things just about everyone in my divorce recovery class had in common was that we couldn’t listen to music. Those songs take you back, evoke the feel of your lover’s neck on your lips, or the shirt he was wearing at Old Navy as “September” piped over the crackling speakers and you . . . → Read More: Getting My Groove Back
Last year at this time, we were leaving home indefinitely. The house was going on the market. My ex and realtor were staging it so I had no idea what it would look like when we got back or if it would still be mine. Six weeks later, as I drove through my neighborhood and . . . → Read More: Leaving Home
My house is defeating me. It started on Sunday when I tried to mow the lawn. Having done so successfully once in my life so far, I was pretty sure I had the skills necessary. Not true. Plus, sometimes mowing the lawn is representative of a whole bunch more than house maintenance. Maybe it was . . . → Read More: Light Bulbs and Lawn Mowers
I got married eight years ago today. Two weeks ago, I finally took off the heart shaped thumb ring my husband gave me the night before our wedding. He’d hidden it in peppermint ice cream, my favorite. I kept wearing the ring, not because I was holding on to the relationship but because I love . . . → Read More: Happy Unniversary
Last night was supposed to be Cavanaugh’s first sleepover at his dad’s place. When his dad called on Wednesday to postpone, I wasn’t even mad. It didn’t matter that two months ago I’d asked him to keep this weekend free, or that this was going to be Cavanaugh’s first night away from me ever, or . . . → Read More: I’m So Happy You’re Here
Psychologists might categorize what I’m experiencing as post-event letdown, but it could be more accurately described as post-vacation funk. No, that’s not right either.
First, I thought it was just the heat and the empty frig. After winter coats at the Chicago airport, we were in shorts and t-shirts. I got sunburned taking a walk. . . . → Read More: Where Are the Grown-Ups?
I’m used to traveling with my kid. All of those articles in parenting magazines offering advice were well read by me when he was little, as were the emails from friends with older kids whose advice I solicited. Here’s what true for Cavanaugh: traveling is great, especially on an airplane where I’m not in the . . . → Read More: Flying High
Yesterday I received a long attacking comment, the equivalent of a mail bomb really, from my ex-husband’s girlfriend on the post What I’m Not Missing. Of course she has opinions about this post. I don’t begrudge her those opinions. But I won’t air them here. This blog isn’t for her or about her–or my ex-husband. . . . → Read More: No Combat Zone
I want to say February has been a rotten month. But rotten isn’t right. February has offered up one hardship after another and I’m tired. If I offer the month in review, could it just be March now, do you think?
There were the big things. My ex-husband was out of town most of the . . . → Read More: Marching On