Posts Tagged: Divorce

DIARY

The Starfish

That time we went to Maine and got married.

A little over ten years ago today, Kendrick and I - and his best man, Matt - arrived in Ogunquit, Maine, and checked into our respective hotel rooms. The rest of our family and friends weren't set to start trickling in for a couple of hours more, so we decided to wander down to the main part of town and get some lunch, maybe check out the beach.

We wandered into a little jewelry shop - a touristy gift place, full of t-shirts and hats with GONE FISHING and IT'S BEER O'CLOCK SOMEWHERE and such on them. I spotted this necklace - a gold starfish studded with tiny crystals - and I loved it so much, but when I say that we were broke after paying all of the wedding expenses, I mean we were let's-not-get-coffee-at-the-deli-today-because-it-costs-a-dollar-style broke. The necklace was only twelve dollars, but still. That was twelve coffees.

Anxiety

Nothing To Do But Jump

I am not really an app person, and though my phone is full of all the apps in the world c/o my six-year-old, I couldn't tell you how to play any of the games on pain of death.

Video games, now - those I like, ever since I discovered the joys of Duck Hunt at the tender age of six (when parents all over the country simultaneously decided that it was a good idea to give their elementary schoolers pretend rifles and let them pretend-kill defenseless little birds). Kendrick and I had a brief (albeit rapturous) dalliance with Angry Birds back when we first started living together. I will happily play Super Mario with my son all night, every night because Super Mario is wonderful. And - just saying - I will take you DOWN in MarioKart (oh, yes I will). But when it comes to Candy Crush and Farmtown (or whatever it's called) or any of those other app-type games that I always see people posting about on Facebook?

Not really my thing. My phone is for looking at clothing I cannot afford to buy, watching Bachelor In Paradise from my bathtub, and accidentally and horrifyingly butt-dialing exes and frenemies.

DIARY

On to the Next

I never intended this house to be our "forever house." I never even really intended to have a "forever house" at all. My parents moved into our Hell's Kitchen apartment when I was two years old, and they live there still, so you'd think I'd have some visceral desire for permanence - but I've had many apartments, and many houses, and all of them have felt, to a greater or lesser extent, like home. I put up the pictures that I've carted with me back and forth across the country over and over again, and drape my favorite throw blanket over a bed, and all of a sudden even a temporary corporate rental isn't just "where I'm staying"...it's where I live.

When we decided to move to San Jose for Kendrick's new job, I knew so little about the area that I told people I was headed to San Francisco - as opposed to a major city that may be adjacent to San Francisco, but most certainly is not a part of it - and people on the Internet made fun of me. I'd say it was terrifying moving to a place that I knew so little about, and that was so far away from my friends and my parents, but it wasn't, not especially. Because whatever was going to happen, we were going to be together. And so at least there'd be that.

So I flew out to California with my four-year-old son to look for a house, and we both got viral gastroenteritis and ended up in the hospital, and so we did not find a house on that trip. I did eventually find a house, though, thanks to a broker who was willing to take me on countless virtual FaceTime tours of available properties while I sat on my couch in New York. We bought the house we live in now having never actually stepped foot inside it. I thought it was fine, but probably not *perfect,* but I also thought it didn't really matter, because it's not like we couldn't move if we wanted to one day.

DIARY

What To Do: When You’re Newly Separated and Your Husband Has the Kids

via

Remember the other week, when Kendrick had the kids and I was all I have no idea what to doooooo? Well, he had the kids again this weekend, and I went ahead and figured that one out.

So, because these are the big questions in life, here is what to do if you have found yourself newly separated, and do not have your kids for a bit. (I put in step-by-step format, because I consider everything here to be essential.)

DIARY

The Reader, Part Two

The strangest thing happened over the weekend. I dropped off the kids with their dad for a bit, and headed back home, intending to check a bunch of things off my to-do list (fold laundry, start dinner, vacuum, whatever), and then I thought...f it. None of these are things that can't wait. I'm going to do what I want to do for a minute. I'm going to do something that makes me happy.

And then I realized that I had absolutely no idea what that might be.

I'm serious. I had virtually no idea what I might want to do - just me, with no one else's wants to think about. Did I want to...read? Nap? Watch a movie? I sifted through all the things that sounded like, you know, things people do when they're relaxing, but nothing sounded even vaguely appealing. You know what I really wanted to do? Fold laundry. Start dinner. Tick boxes off lists.

Anxiety

The Anger In Me

current mood via.

In couples' counseling a couple of weeks ago, I started yelling. I went into the session determined - promising myself - that I wouldn't go there, that I'd follow the rules (use "I feel" language, try not to stick to my "personal narrative," et cetera auuuuuuugh), and that I'd be calm and clear and loving. That I'd talk less, and listen more

And then, all of a sudden, I was in that place again: the angry place that I didn't know existed in me, but that I sure as hell know about now.

DIARY

Just, Yes.

My friend Tia did this braid. You can tell, because it's good.

I have always loved entertaining. More than that, I love being a hostess: making my house look pretty, thinking up cute serving ideas, refilling drinks before glasses are empty. Telling my guests to sit down, have fun, don't you dare touch those dishes, I've got it. I know it might sound odd, but I love it; I really do. It makes me feel good to create a space where where they can feel good. And since we've moved here, summertime has basically been all-entertaining, all the time, because, you know: pool. Which is great, right?! Parties! BBQs! All the festive things!!

Except I can't right now.

DIARY

The Kind Of Parent You’ve Got To Be Sometimes

I took the kids to Rockin' Jump after camp yesterday. Rockin' Jump, for those of you who aren't parents or don't live in the suburbs, is a massive trampoline park populated by oh god, so many small people, the vast majority of whom are physically launching themselves through the air at at any given moment. For safety's sake, there are also lots of uniformed attendants who will yell at them (and you) if they do anything wrong, and the list of "things you can do wrong in the trampoline park" includes "everything that children want to do a trampoline park."

I know. It sounds super fun.

Except my kids (obviously) love it, and so when they said they wanted to go, I was sort of surprised that camp hadn't tired them out...but I thought, what the hell. Because it's summer, and in the summer you can do things like take spur-of-the-moment trips to trampoline parks, and also because I have a little secret about Rockin' Jump:

DIARY

An Update, But Not Really

Before I launch back into writing about our (first) bathroom makeover (which is FINALLY finished, and oh my god that took forever) and the best ballet flats out there and, I don't know, chicken, or whatever...I figured I should probably address the elephant in the room.

I don't know if we're going to stay in this house. Or even in this city.

I don't know anything.


powered by chloédigital