Looking for Advice

Ah, the trials and tribulations of being a mother to a senior in high school. No one warned me that this time would be just as hard if not harder than those toddler years. But then again, if they had, I probably would not have been able to fully grasp what “hard” was until I experienced it myself. Here I am. Experiencing it for myself.

Frequent reminders to apply for scholarships, renew his expired license, provide me the schedule for his after school EMT course, etc, etc, etc. And all the while sitting with a constant worry as my son refuses to eat adequately. I’ve watched my son lose weight, skips meals, and even refuse to take a vitamin. My concerns are obviously warranted. And his pediatrician certainly validated this for me. Ironically though, my ex-husband has not. His feeling is “He’s fine. I see him eat. You are trying to control him.” I probably should mention here that my ex-husband has it in his head that I control everything. Despite my actions proving quite the opposite. It doesn’t matter. To him, I am controlling, and any time I try to “argue” this point, well, that just simply proves all the more I am controlling. Right?

So I’m stuck or so that’s how I feel. It has become quite impossible to co-parent with this man. I feel as though I am watching my son develop habits, learn ways to manage his feelings, and how to treat others by mimicking a man that struggles on all these fronts. And I am left to just watch, as though my hands are tied behind my back.

My brother, as always, has helped me, supported me, even opened my eyes when they were unknowingly closed shut. His advice in this case is to lay it all on the table, take no shit, don’t allow for the table to be turned, stay on the bus so to speak and drive off whether they choose to get on it or not. He recognized that this will be hard for me. And he recognized that my ex-husband will most likely respond in the same way he always does because it’s just hearing my voice that sets him off.

They say the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results. So…I am going to quit the bullshit and change it up. I don’t need to accept any disrespect from my 18 year old son or my ex-husband. I don’t deserve it. And honestly, accepting it will only teach my son that treating anyone that way is acceptable.

So here we go…I’m ready.



Just got back from a run. No longer running with headphones listening to music, I listen to the sound of my breath, my sneakers hitting the ground, and the vibrations of my thoughts. Suddenly during this run, it hit me. My ex-husband is a version of my mother. Their personalities are plagued with anger and manipulation. I suppose there was no irony in the fact that during the time of my separation I was also creating distance with my mom.  The need to free myself of this world I had lived in my whole life was great. It all makes sense. It makes sense that I do not want my sons’ worlds to be contaminated with these harsh emotions. Although it is a reality, a space needed to be created to allow for a healthier life. For all. I had been continuing a life when I got married that I had lived as a child. And as a result, providing that life to my children. No longer. They deserve better. And I think I do too.

It’s all coming together. Piece by piece.


Twelve short years ago, I became a mom a second time over. My heart swelled to new dimensions. How I thought I couldn’t love another child as I did my first is beyond me. A mother’s love is immeasurable, infinite.

Remembering as if it were yesterday, feeding him in the middle of the night, rocking in the red rocking chair, singing “Amazing Grace” or “America the Beautiful”. He fit in the crook of my arm, his face so sweet. Perfection.

He has grown in his few short twelve years to be one of the most kind, empathetic, sweet, intuitive  people I know. Only a half of an inch shy of my height now, his hands larger than mine, his feet longer, and his smile greater. I look at him and think how lucky I am to be his mother.

Twelve just happens to be his hockey number. So this year, he is beyond ecstatic to reach this age. I, however, am requesting time to slow down. He no longer fits in the crook of my arm. In fact, when I hug him, my head fits in the crook of his neck. Yet, no matter how big, or how old he is, he will always fit inside my heart. Always.

Happy Birthday my sweet, sweet baby! I love you more! xo


Is Divorce dramaticOr does that description lend itself too much to a theater production? Maybe it’s that the act of divorce is not dramatic so much so as the consequences.

Divorce is breaking apart. But quite possibly it can also be pulling together. Ironic right? In the end, it’s all significant, life altering, and yes dramatic. Truthfully it has rocked my world. My gait unsteady. My mind a tornado of mismatched thoughts. My heart pulled in many directions yet all the while growing bigger and stronger as a result.

Synonyms for dramatic include – significant, considerable, substantial.

Significant? A path reworked. A family redefined. A heart aching for its loss.

Considerable? A life quite literally scheduled differently. A risk leading to vulnerability.

Substantial? Loss. Gain. Strength. Clarity.

So, yes, dramatic. In all its waves of change, divorce has left a lifelong imprint. And while the drama of it all can often implicate a negative aftermath, it continues to be a priority to find the balance. To provide the lesson. To foster growth, truth, and perseverance. To take something so crushing and manipulate it in a way that results in something positive. Something good.

There is no other option – I am a mother.


For the past year and a half he and I have shared two homes in order for the boys’ lives to be less disrupted. It worked. But, for several reasons he can no longer live this way. I understand. However, I am scared, nervous, ….spinning. Next week we will purchase a second home where he will solely live. The boys will now alternate between two homes. We will keep the schedule the same so that no more than a day will go by where I don’t see them if only for a short time. My head is spinning so much that it almost becomes empty as all the thoughts and feelings seem to just spin away. It’s like that children’s Birthday party game, the one where you are blindfolded and someone spins you around several times, stops, and somehow while dizzy, you need to find your way.  I should mention my dream as a little girl. It was to be a mother. Part of that dream was becoming a wife and creating a family. I even had an age and a wedding date included in this dream. I wed one year older and six days past that dream wedding date. Funny how you seem to think your life unfolds just as you planned to just unfold in a way you never planned. Maybe I just need to spin for a while. Maybe it’s time to completely let go….and just spin.