Sometimes It’s Hard To Remember My Kids Are Going Through Some Shit

I get so frustrated as a parent sometimes, as many do. I work hard, sleep very little, feel overwhelmed and emotionally drained much of the time.

And sometimes feel like I’m literally busting my ass to make ends meet to turn around and get snapped at by a tiny human who appears ungrateful, demanding, and entitled in the wake of my roller coaster day to day life.

Being a divorced parent is hard. Being a divorced parent with no co-parent is even harder.

So while I sit here and throw myself a pity party for spending my days making up for the absent parent in my kids’ lives, I really need to take a step back and remember… my kids are going through some serious shit.

I might be the “single” parent in this parenting duo, but they have went from a family with two parents, with a semi-normal home life, to a family with one parent completely removed. Living in the house they grew up in but with a new man, who they don’t trust yet, don’t know as a dad, don’t feel the same love or connection with.

While I’m struggling to navigate life with new dynamics and a new partner they are trying to mourn a dad that is still alive, but they don’t get to see. The parent that used to be the “fun dad” who over exaggerated every event, every holiday, every big moment in their lives and now forgets to call on their birthday.

I feel worn down and complain about money, lack of support, and missing days of work to stay home with sick kids because I am their sole parent. But I forget that while I’m cuddling their feverish body and stressing about being stuck home and not at work that they are remembering what it was like to cuddle their other parent. Or maybe, they are stressing too because enough time has passed and they might not be able to remember it as well as before.

I have to remember that even though I got to experience my son’s amazing belt promotion, my daughter’s first gymnastics team, my older son’s baseball and academic achievements and cheer them all on and beam with pride, they were likely (if even for just a moment) yearning for the person missing. The one who should also be there to congratulate their big accomplishments.

I have to remember that if my kid seems like he doesn’t like any of the gifts he got for his birthday, even if it’s EXACTLY what he asked for, it’s not me. Or the gifts. It’s because the one true gift he wanted isn’t something that can be bought at all.

He told me his one wish this year. That his dad would come back and be the dad he was years ago before his demons took over. And my only saving grace is that someone reminded him days later that if you share your wish, it won’t come true.

My kid may never tell me his wishes again.

While I’m simultaneously making sure that my kids get to continue their sports, have birthday parties, the tooth fairy shows up, Santa is good to them, and everything is *somewhat* normal and like it used to be, they are wondering what magical being can step in and “fix” this.

When I am exhausted and overwhelmed at bedtime and fighting back tears because my kids have heard two songs, been read three books, and had multiple bathroom breaks, there are nights I bet they’re also wishing their mom wasn’t the one ALWAYS putting them to bed.

There is likely a place of common ground in the root of most of our mutual frustration.

My kids have it pretty rough for kids that on the outside appear happy, carefree, friendly, and smart. The guise they wear sometimes fades and the sadness pours out, but sometimes it doesn’t. Most of the time, it doesn’t. At least not in obvious ways.

On those days I forget that they are battling with feelings and thoughts and fears and worries that *most* kids their age don’t experience at such a young age. Or ever. I have to remember that my kids, even if they seem fine, might be really struggling on the inside. 

I have to keep in mind that they aren’t aware of their feelings yet and aren’t mature enough to express them and so they manifest in ways that look like ungratefulness, attitude, or anger towards me.

I have to be vigilant that even if my kids are smiling, that doesn’t mean there isn’t a fleeting thought about the thing they all miss most. The PERSON.

I also have to remember that while I’m over here feeling sorry for myself in my position as mom AND dad, that they most likely want a break from me as much as I do from them sometimes, but that break is nowhere in either of our immediate futures. I just have to keep reminding myself…. my kids are going through some serious shit right now.

 

If this article connects with you here are some others about my relationship struggles:

Divorcing A Narcissist Is No Joke

A Transformation On How I Perceive Drug Addiction

5 Things I Learned About Dating Apps

 

 

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Does Being In A New Relationship After Divorce Mean You’re Not A Single Mom Anymore?

When I was a newly single parent trying to navigate how to handle life with kids, but without a partner, I remember getting really annoyed, and frankly hurt, when I would see women complaining on social media about being a “single parent” because their husband was on a fishing trip. Or a work trip. Or whatever. He was gone for a short time and suddenly they understood what it was like to be a “single mom”.

But they didn’t. Their situation was temporary. Their partner is coming back (eventually). As a single mom, your situation is forever.

Or maybe not.

Maybe, sometime in the future, you will find someone new to share your life with. And then what? Are you not a “single mom” anymore?

Once I found a new partner and things started getting serious (meeting the kids, living together, and eventually engaged) I had been told by a handful of people that I should stop defining myself as a “single parent” as if I’m alone. I’m not a single parent anymore. I have someone.

And I get it. I understand someone who is TRULY single being annoyed by someone like me. A not-actually-single-single-mom. I would venture to guess that had I come across this situation during my new singleton life, I probably would have been vexed by someone bickering about being a single mom with a partner to share their life with.

But I am here to say, just because you are not “single” anymore, doesn’t mean you’re not exactly living like a single mom anymore either. Maybe just a different breed of single mom.

And here’s why…

I spent the better part of a year alone with my kids, working on my marriage (but apart) and then realizing it was ending, and going from having my kids all the time to most of the time to all of the time again.

I dated.

I did the daily grind of ALL.THINGS.KIDS. every day, all day.

And then I met someone.

And eventually it moved to the next level. And things are great.

(Side note: Blending families, especially when you have kids from divorce, kids who have experienced a parent’s addiction and mental illness, kids who are already annoyed with their blood siblings and now have more kids around A LOT, is really fucking hard. It’s almost (dare I say) harder than keeping a marriage together when you’ve built your life, your family, together. But the difference is, now you have had the experience of hell that goes with breaking up your family. And so you’re either going to put in the work to make it last and be beneficial for everyone involved. Or you’re not.)

But regardless of how much work you put in or how “normal” you try to make your family, it’s just not the same. And it never will be.

And here is where I say, being in a new relationship doesn’t necessarily mean you’re not a single mom anymore. In some situations you might be more comfortable, you might have help, but in almost all cases you will never share the same type of relationship you had before, especially when it comes to your kids.

You can love someone’s kids as much as your own and they can love yours just the same, but your experiences with your kids that started from the first positive pee-stick aren’t shared like they were with someone else.

Your history with this new person starts years later. And eventually, the goal would get to a point where all of those “before” experiences are water under the bridge. But it’s going to be awhile before you get there.

And despite their ability and desire to help, there are just some things that they simply can’t do (or your kids won’t allow them to) that your previous spouse was able to step in and be a part of.

My kids are young, their needs are still ever draining on a parent. I still wipe butts, give baths, cut food into little bite sized pieces, make snacks, tie shoes, get them dressed, open juice boxes, (etc, etc, etc….)

Some of these things, sure, my partner can help with. But so could one of my friends if I needed it that bad, when I was single. Other things? Even if he wanted to, he just can’t.

Any sort of major parenting decisions we weigh as a team, yet…. he’s not their dad. He wasn’t there from the beginning and so oftentimes I find myself doing more explaining than discussing.

He can’t give my kids baths, tuck them in, kiss their boo-boos or do my daughter’s hair. They won’t allow him to. It might be never that he is the someone they feel comfortable with confiding in, so the burden of all of the heavy stuff weighs solely on me. Maybe in time that will change, but for now, it’s mine to bear.

Financially, his job in this family wasn’t to come in and support me and my kids. That’s my job. And they have their own dad. But what if their dad is not contributing like an active and responsible parent? It’s not his responsibility to pick up the slack, that load falls on me too.

If my kid does something I find super quirky and cute, I’ll share it with him. But the reaction I get isn’t the same because he wasn’t there years ago when my older child did something similar and we laughed and laughed.

And the moments that my kids have that used to be endearing reminders of their father, now are terrifying indicators that his genes are still alive and strong within them.

If one of my kids gets sick I’m the one who has to call in to work, not him.

If there are conferences, meetings at school, doctor’s appointments, dentist appointments, play dates to be made, birthday parties to plan… he will join in the fun, but he’s not taking care of those things for my children, and he shouldn’t have to. But that doesn’t mean having him around makes my life “easier” as I’ve been told it should.

The discipline is my job, and so is the explosive reaction I get if/when that discipline is met by an angry child. As much as he would like to step in and help sometimes, ultimately, it’s not his place.

So despite not technically being a “single mom” anymore, I find myself still feeling overwhelmed at times. Wishing I could get some help. Some support. And what’s strange is I have it, but it comes in a different form and not one I’m entirely used to (yet).

People don’t seem to understand that just because you have another adult in the house, all of your struggles and responsibilities as a single parent don’t vanish.

Everyone feels and experiences their situations differently. I am starting to think I shouldn’t have been so quick to feel stabby and wronged by the mom claiming to understand my life as a single mom because her husband was absent for a weekend on a business trip. Maybe she was feeling really alone.

Being a single mom, completely raising my kids ALONE was probably the hardest thing I have ever done in my life. Having someone around definitely helps make the days go by faster. I feel less overwhelmed, less tired, less lonely than I did when I was doing this thing all by myself.

I refuse to be a sanctimonious mom that claims I have the same life as a true single mom that is raising her kids completely solo. I’m not. At least not anymore. But as a mom who has done that before and lived to tell about it, I gotta be honest… the way I’m living now with a new partner is (some days) not that far off. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

 

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Divorcing A Narcissist Is No Joke

Getting divorced sucks. It’s an all-around bad time for anyone that has to go through the ugly experience of court, lawyers, money talk, and the excruciating idea of dividing up time with your kids.

The legal jargon, structure, and rigidity of it alone is enough to make you sick. And that doesn’t include the emotional distress.

Divorcing someone you once loved hurts. Divorcing someone you no longer love because they are madly in love with themselves is in a whole new realm of torment. It’s debilitating, mind-blowing, crippling at times.

Any person with any empathy at all knows that literally no one wins in a divorce. Even the most amicable divorce brings hurt, grief, and pain. Your life as you know it is vastly different. Your home, your daily routine, EVERYTHING about your existence utterly changes. This is not a win in anyone’s book, except the narcissist.

Any potential threat to the narcissist’s self-esteem is perceived as a highly personal attack, even if your approach is civil. And to a narcissist, divorce is a sign of weakness, of failure. The ultimate ego bruiser.

Once the papers are filed, everything becomes a game to be won to the narcissist. And only they get to decide when it’s over. Every move they make is a calculated one and no issue is too ludicrous or too minute to raise hell over.

Nothing is off limits when the narcissist’s self-image is at stake. He will literally do whatever it takes to maintain the façade of the injured party, without shame or remorse. Even if it means sharing private, intimate details of your lives, or making you look like an unstable and incapable parent. If it were up to the narcissist, you would have no rights as a parent (or a human being, if they had it their way) at all. They may proclaim an intention of peace and amicability, but their goal is, without a doubt, to win.

Money unquestionably becomes insignificant. They will drain your accounts and any equity you might share, and when they are done they will move on to family and friends they can exploit for help because they can’t back down. Peace doesn’t fuel the narcissist.

In the end, you will have collectively wasted 70k fighting over an old, broken microwave.

And that’s just the beginning.

The narcissist will take every last ounce of energy they think you might have left and drag it through the mud, depicting you as a complete piece of shit. Be vigilant. Because no matter how the cards fall, this (whatever *this* is) is going to be your fault.

They will take every single thing you do and twist it into something it’s not just to paint a bigger picture of the monster they want to portray you as. Because surrender without complete destruction is just not an option for the narcissist.

And even though it’s a battle to the death of your sanity, it really doesn’t matter in the end if they actually win what they are fighting for. They have a plan to explain that away too. It won’t be because of their shotty tactics or inappropriateness. It will be because of the unjust court system, an unfair judge, or a “bad” lawyer. They will have a thought out and exceptionally detailed list of the “wrong-doings” that happened to them because a narcissist never accepts blame or responsibility. He’d rather take everyone he’s ever loved down with him than show any sign of feebleness or fault.

It won’t feel like a “win” to you either after the battle you’ve just fought to get out of a living hell. Even if you do walk away the “victor” in this relentless personal encounter with psychological warfare, you will have convinced yourself you don’t deserve it, because all along the narcissist has been telling you so.

And he’s not done yet.

Narcissists are amazing, manipulative story tellers. And they will tell their stories to anyone that will listen. Long after the show is over they will continue to spread their elaborate lies until they are fulfilled with enough sympathy or applause to fuel their vainness.

Lies and deceit are their playbook. You find yourself documenting EVERY.SINGLE.INTERACTION to back up the absurdity that’s become your reality because you’re sure no one will believe you when you tell them. And the narcissist has convinced you that you’re crazy, so you need reassurance. Someone to agree that this is not how things should be. Ever.

It’s really hard to talk to someone who can’t reason with logic. You continuously try to show them how out of control the entire situation is, but you’re wasting your breath. It’s useless. And to other people, it looks as though you’ve given up, or given in, but in reality, you’re just trying hard to save your sanity on the brink of what seems like a never-ending pandemonium.

Trying to stay quiet and be the “rational” one while all of this is going on might be harder than divorce itself.  Because he will intentionally try to push you over the edge so he can justify his actions and build evidence to back up the picture he’s painted of you along the way.

The smallest lull in chaos might give you hope. You yearn so badly for things to calm down, finally get better. However, it’s an unfortunate truth that with a narcissist, things will never not be in complete mayhem because this is the bane of their existence. Without havoc, they can’t function. Can’t exist.

If they find that things have settled or that they have been “found out” they will seek out someone new to disrupt and dominate. Because they thrive on it.

Divorce is terrible. Nobody gets married thinking that one day this will all come to an end. It hurts enough all on its own. But when you’re divorcing a narcissist, hurt doesn’t even begin to describe it. It’s unimaginable, humiliating, and exhausting.

They are so in love with themselves that they simply can’t fathom the fact that someone doesn’t feel the same. The only way to come to terms with this is to completely self-destruct and carry their loved ones through the ruins. No matter the cost.

Divorcing a narcissist made up the worst year of my life, hands down. But it has to be said, I would do it all over again after truly seeing what he was capable of. I just might do things a little differently this time around.

 

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The Story Behind Why I’m The Asshole At School Pickup

You know that asshole. The one that thinks the rules of the pickup line don’t apply to her. The woman who doesn’t socialize and chat or catch up with other parents while waiting for the bell. The mom that doesn’t allow her kids to stay after school and play at the park with their friends.

The one who’s always in a hurry. The one who pulls in where you’re not supposed to and who’s kids are running and jumping into a moving vehicle because she didn’t get there on time to actually find a parking spot. Yeah, that asshole. Guilty as charged.

A much cooler van than the one I drive

I’m the mom everyone hates at pickup, and frankly, I don’t even care. I have overheard myself being referred to as the “van lady” (as if there aren’t about 79 “van ladies” at an elementary school dismissal), and it was most definitely not a term of endearment.

But now that I have revealed myself, let me explain before everyone comes to my house with pitchforks and burns me at the stake. Because inside the “van lady’s” car, there was a story.

When my son started school I had three kids aged 5, 2, and 1. You know, the really “fun” ages. The ones where no one is sleeping, and one is always whining because they are hungry, tired, their sock seam is tickling their foot, or someone won’t stop “copying them”.

The same year my oldest began Kindergarten, my middle child started preschool and he was the type of child we all (as parents) hope we don’t have when we send them off to school. The child that wails and clings to your leg, that is in hysterics when you have to forcibly hand them over to a new teacher they barely know. The one you hear crying for you after the traumatizing hand-off while you sit in the hallway and pray they will get over this so you can leave and they can actually enjoy their time in school.

I would drop my son off at kindergarten and spend the ride to preschool fielding all of the fake illnesses by my very intelligent and manipulative preschooler in an attempt to stay home and then prep that child repeatedly that we were going, this was happening, and it was going to be okay.

But that wasn’t even the tip of the iceberg that was our home life at the time.

This was also around the period my marriage was falling apart. My ex was no longer living in the house and his absence was starting to spread to all aspects of our family lives. So… I’ll just say it, I was depressed. Life sucked.

I didn’t know it at the time, because I was so focused on taking each day at a time, but I was learning how to be a single mom.

During this time, our lives were upside down. Every day was a new struggle and between regular kid chaos there was court, attorneys, finances to figure out, and confused and sad kids to console. Friends and family that wanted in on the drama or explanations as to why things were coming to an end.

And me, living in hell with a soon-to-be ex who was sick and emotionally unwell. Spreading rumors like wildfire about my personal life to any and all that would listen while simultaneously harassing me as if constant contact and mental abuse and manipulation would force me into submission.  It was an exhausting cycle and if I’m being honest, there were many late nights crying, had by all.

School pickup came every day faster than I expected. I spent the day trying to get affairs in order so I could put my focus on my kids when they came home from school without (hopefully) having to deal with my overwhelming emotions or any legalities.

I would try to get all the tears out while they were gone so I could plaster a smile on my face and pretend everything was okay for the rest of the day, and the school hours would fly by. I would look at the clock, run out the door, grab my kids and rush to do something, anything to keep all of our minds off of what had been going on at home. And then, we would go home to sleep and do it all again the next day.

I wish it were socially acceptable for me to unleash and explain to the parents that referred to me as the “van lady” that my life was an absolute shit show. That me and my kids had cried ourselves to sleep the night before because we were all hurting, struggling, and trying to come to terms with a completely new life none of us had expected. That trying to explain addiction and divorce to a child is damn near impossible, and incredibly heartbreaking.

We had been late because we woke up many times in the night scared, alone, and cuddled up together to fall back asleep. I had barely slept at all some nights because I was the only grown-up in the house and I had trouble killing a spider, who was going to protect us if someone broke in?

I wish I could explain that we were all trying. We all wanted so badly that year to just be “normal”, whatever the hell that is. Had it been reasonable to declare to the world what we had going on inside the “van” I would have shared that we were lonely. We were lost. That my poor kids’ mom was depressed, their dad was struggling with an addiction and their lives had been turned upside down. Divorce was a big deal, but for my family, it wasn’t just separate houses.

I am now trying to strike up conversation with parents during school pickup that have been builing relationships for years. Making “mom friends” is difficult enough as it is, but being the “van mom” and coming out of the woodwork trying to show everyone “hey look at us! I swear we are normal we just had a bad couple of years!” is just freakin pathetic.

Yet, here I am. Smile on my face, abiding by the rules of the pickup line and trying to get there early intentionally so that I can ACTUALLY interact with other parents. I’m just hoping by the end of the year when people are gossiping about me it’s because I’m socially awkward and say inappropriate things at the worst possible times. Legit complaints. And hopefully they will start calling me the “crazy lady” instead of the “van lady”. That’s got a better ring to it anyways, dontcha think?

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5 Things I Learned About Dating Apps – A Cautionary Tale

It’s a harsh reality when you realize your marriage is ending. It’s an even harsher reality coming to terms with the fact that dating has changed LIGHT YEARS since the last time you were on the market.

My biggest fear when entering the dating pool again was, “where in the world do people meet if you don’t go anywhere but preschool, karate, baseball {repeat}?” And “who the hell is going to want me now?”

My body is like a rouge grape you find at the back of your crisper, stretched and dried up again, wrinkly and forlorn. After years of breastfeeding, I have permanent pancake boobs. They literally need to be folded from their flat state into any apparatus to hold them into place, and even then it’s a gamble if they will stay or take a nosedive for my knees before the end of the night. My feet are monstrous after three pregnancies and …. I have a gray hair (or two, or forty, who’s counting?). For years I didn’t want to show my husband my body in all of it’s nakedness and he saw me shoot babies out of my vagina. The thought of getting into my birthday suit in front of a new, strange man? No thanks, I’ll stay abstinent.

Not to mention, my kids are tiny terrorists, I don’t want to admit they are mine to strangers out in public, better yet a person I’m trying to impress enough to keep around for awhile.

Thank God for dating apps, right? WRONG.

As a way to get out of my head and “have some fun” my friend and I decided it would be genius to throw myself into the world of Tinder. Tinder couldn’t be a more user friendly and readily accessible platform that can quickly take your mind off of your current (sad, lonely, depressed) situation in just a few swipes. That guy is HOT!  Swipe right, INSTANT MATCH! This is too easy! Don’t like this guys stupid mustache? Swipe left. He gone. But, that’s about all it’s good for if you ask me.

Eventually, I did find myself a new man. But it wasn’t on a dating app. And I’ll tell you why.

1. People are LIARS – I was one of them. No one in the world is going to come out saying “I’m emotionally damaged and cry alone in the bathroom at least once a day, but if you can pry me off the couch and away from my beloved Netflix family for the night (good lucky, buddy), I might be fun! I don’t know, I haven’t done it in a long time.” Instead, they are going to tell you they are world travelers, hikers, bikers, fitness fanatics, wine enthusiasts, and avid foodies because that is what you want to hear and they want you to give them a chance. I’m sure half of the people I talked to were either robots or using a stock photo for their profile picture while texting away on their phone in their mom’s basement eating Cheetos.

2. Men are CREEPS – I’m just going to say it. Dick pics. No woman (at least not one my age, do younger girls want this? Am I just old?) wants you to open a line of communication with her by sending a picture of your genitalia. I do not care if you think you have the most perfect penis in the world, without seeing it I can already tell you, it’s ugly. That is why adult entertainment geared towards women tends to have men in uniforms, DRESSED in various fantasy roles, maybe shirtless, or maybe in some undies, but def not flailing their bare weiners.  AND – I have kids. I don’t need one of them opening my phone to find some pornographic photo a strange man sent me and dodging questions about why there are “pribates” on my phone. If dick pics are the only way to go for you, send a warning first, and get ready to be instantly rejected. No one wants to see your pee-pee.

3. Men can’t handle rejection. Even on a stupid App – This one weirded me the fuck out. Some men have apparently never been rejected in their lives, not even on the internet. So when they encounter a woman who has zero interest in them, it is evidently impossible for them to come to terms with. So unthinkable, in fact, that they sought me out and demanded an explanation. I disappeared from their chats and that meant, in their minds, it was completely acceptable to find me on social media through mutual friends and order up answers as to why we were suddenly unmatched and why I didn’t want to speak with them. As if this had been some horrible misunderstanding and I would (apologetically) come crawling back to them because they were hand-picked especially for me by the Tinder Gods and stalking was certainly listed in my dating profile as a required characteristic I was seeking. I’m sorry, freaky man I’ve never actually met in real life, I don’t owe you SHIT. This was completely intentional on my part, and although I tried to leave quietly and respectfully in an attempt to let you hold on to your dignity, I’ll let you have it (since you asked and all)…. your dick pic was a fucking nightmare. I’m still having trouble sleeping.

4. Some men on these sites are actually looking for something serious- Nothing wrong with that. Except, I came for the free meal, not to replace my kids daddy with a dude I met online. What’s with the pressure?  Listen guy, I just got over a marriage, and considering it didn’t end well, I’m not in a hurry to re-retain my lawyer and do that whole thang again any time soon. I really shouldn’t even be dating yet according to all of the (remarkably accurate) Facebook quizzes I’ve taken while stuffing my face with pirate booty and watching Gilmore Girls reruns, but hey… I needed dinner and you needed someone to buy dinner for, win-win! But – Oh! The babysitter is calling, gotta go! {{unmatch on the way back to the car}} {{finds me on social media later}}

5. You *might* match with your ex – This was when I gave up on dating apps because clearly they didn’t “get” me. I found him in real life first, Tinder. And it was a fuggin disaster. So thanks for the recommendation, but I think I’m gonna swipe NO FUCKING WAY. I felt so dirty. I needed to brush my teeth and take a shower, stat. And then it hit me….  If I could see him, does that mean he could see ME? OH GAWD.

 

Even if I ever find myself back on the market, I don’t think I could navigate my way back to that shit show again. Not a chance in hell. Nothing in this world made me feel like an old bag more than online dating. It’s a jungle out there, ladies. Good effing luck.

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Mom Transparenting

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