Dec 19 2013
“I got to see the art I wanted to see and eat what I wanted to eat when I wanted to eat it,” my friend said of her recent jaunt to New York. “I’d had so much kid time, I really needed the chance to do things for myself.”
“That’s great,” I affirmed. I hoped I sounded completely sincere. I was, honestly, pretty sincere, and I wished I was even more so. Her end-of-summer divorced parent schedule had given her a long stretch with her kids followed by a long stretch without them. That trip to New York amounted to a divorce perk.
Of course, she’d earned it–in more ways than one. So many things about the choppy life divorced parents and kids experience are difficult. The relief at a chance for total freedom isn’t one of them. A few days in, other feelings return, ones that aren’t so euphoric. My parents are divorced. From inside my body, I get the choppy, frustrated, exhausting compromises that joint custody exacts on everyone. And it’s something I was determined would not happen to me, or my children. Read the rest of this entry →
Mar 11 2013
I let my children see me cry this morning. It was one of those drawn out dawns when everyone wakes up waaaaay too early, and the countdown til preschool drop-off stretches into forever until the last second before we need to leave RIGHT. THIS. MINUTE. DAMMIT.
And in that frenzy, my daughter flops on the floor like a 30 pound pile of jelly, and she shall not be moved. (People, it’s like she studied Nonviolent Resistance with Gandhi, and while that’ll be super awesome when she’s out there changing the world, it sure don’t fly at 6:55 a.m. when the carpool driver is waiting waiting waiting to take us to school.)
And when it’s time to go, and my daughter won’t get up off the damn floor and put her shoes on, and the phone is squawking and I know unless we get our asses outside RIGHT NOW that the person driving us who has her OWN commitments will be late and may say “no” next time we ask her to drive us, I want to scream.
And so I do. Read the rest of this entry →
Feb 11 2013
“How are you and the kids doing?” my husband Uri asked me on our phone conversation three days ago.
He’s been abroad at a learning program in Israel and I’ve been home with the kids now for five days with three more days to go. “I’m really exhausted and feel pretty irritable and snappy at the kids,” I proceeded to share with him. “I guess I’m overwhelmed and haven’t had any patience for whining, crying, or sibling rivalry.”
“I’m sorry,” my husband said empathically; I knew after this exchange that he was probably feeling really badly for being way. Read the rest of this entry →