When you are recently divorced, the firsts are no fun...

One of my good friends gave me this advice, "When you are divorced, the first's suck."

First birthday not as a family, first Christmas, first flat tire, etc.

This week, I experienced another first. Tuesday was my oldest's birthday. She turned five, which is a big deal by any means.  

You would think that I would have been good at this now, the one year old had her first birthday in June. 

But, no. 

My oldest has been so excited for her birthday since her last birthday. When the calendar turned to October, she knew exactly how many more days until she turned five. 

My mom had offered to make dinner. 

Then, I made the mistake of texting my ex to ask him what his plans were. 

He wanted to take her out for dinner, or dessert, or something. He said that I could go with him, but, we have done dinner with the girls a few times and it is super awkward. It is even more so now that he has a girlfriend. 

So, initially, I didn't respond. My friend told me that I deserved "space and grace." 

The next day I told him he could come over for cake and ice cream after we ate. 

He didn't like that suggestion, but said he would be there. 

Of course my car broke down on her birthday, oh, and my dad had to have a heart procedure. (He should be fine.) 

It was quite a day. 

And, then about 7:00 my oldest asked where her dad was. 

I told her he would be there in about 30 minutes. He was. 

That sweet girl. She woke up at 3 in the morning and stood by my bed waiting for me to wish her a happy birthday. 

Then, I gave her a few of her presents and took her and her sister out for a birthday doughnut. It was a good start to the day. 

I think she enjoyed it. 

Yes, it was a first. We all survived. 

Happy Birthday, sweet girl. The awesome cake that my mom and dad made for her. Tie Dye/Rainbow cake. 

My Last Baby

When my soon-to-be ex told me he wanted to get a divorce, my second child, my baby girl, was only seven months old. My first thought was, how in the world would I do this all by myself? My second thought was, why now? Honestly, I was in the middle of the most important part of the year for my new job, I was about to present at a major conference and I was still trying to figure out how to juggle two kids and drive an hour to and from (with two daycare stops) work each day. Six months later, I have realized there is never a good time for a divorce.

I always knew my second would be my last baby. I had such a hard time getting pregnant the second time, I didn't even know if she would be possible. We tried for two years. And, when I finally got pregnant, I was so excited. Nine months later, she arrived! She is the absolute best baby in the world. She brings such joy to me and to the rest of the world. My dad wants her to get a job as a Walmart greeter. She loves to say, "hi and bye," to everyone she meets. Restaurants, the library, shopping--no person can walk by this baby with out a big smile and a greeting.

I survived her first birthday. I didn't want to do anything that day because it just seemed so unfair. Thankfully, my family would not let the day go uncelebrated. That day was so hard. As, I drove across town to pick up her cake, I passed the hospital that she was born in only a year ago. My how life changed in a year.

I am so grateful for my parents who have opened up their home to my girls and I. However, I can't help but to think about how much I have missed of her "babyhood." At my parents house, we don't have much down time. We eat late at night (around 7:30 most nights) and by the time we are finished eating, its time for bath and bed. When I was married, I would have dinner on the table by six and then I would have an hour to play with the girls before we had to start the night time routine.

I have missed out on the rocking her to sleep. I have missed out on the story times, the playing; because when you are a guest in someones house, there are many things that need to be done--especially when you already feel bad that you are taking up so much space. I know my parents don't mind, but I can't sit down when my mom is busting her butt in the kitchen.

Then, on those rare moments when I don't have anything to do, well, those are the weekends that the girls are with their dad. It makes me so sad.

I have about two more weeks and then I will be moving out of my parents house. I will have to figure out my new sense of normal. My new routines.

I know, this post isn't quite so upbeat or funny. But, I have a court date for the divorce and my girls are with their dad this weekend. I am a bit overwhelmed with all the changes that are about to happen, and really all I want is to see this face again. She is my greatest miracle. My last baby.

How do you know when it's over?

One day I was working hard in my office, talking to one of my coworkers. (Obviously, we can talk and work at the same time. We are talented multi-taskers.) 

My coworker, she is divorced. She has great advice. She and I have understood each other from day one. We have a lot in common. We are both from the same state, and we both worked at Big Boy. 

Anyway, my husband and I hadn't been communicating and I wanted her input. We never had been the best at communicating. However, I also had just started a new job and had a new baby. Life was hectic. 

I could almost count the number of times we fought in fourteen plus years on one hand. Perhaps this is because I avoid conflict like the plague. I think it is because my parents are so good at communicating. They love to communicate and are quick to tell each other when they are pissed off. (That scares me to death.) I forgot all that when I moved out of their house, but now that I have been living with them, I definitely have learned a few things about making a marriage work. For them, telling each other when they are pissed just works. 

So, last fall, HE threw out the "D-word." It was after an argument, but, if I really think about it, it probably was the precursor to where I am today. He had been distant. Unhappy with his job, but I figured it was just a season we were in. 

Well, back to that day--my coworker and I were discussing her divorce. It was a pretty deep discussion. I asked her, "How did you know IT was over?" 

She looked at me with tears in her eyes. She said, "You just know." 

Well, here I am knowing. 

To say this week has been easy is a complete lie. I have found out some pretty heavy information. None of it is completely confirmed, but I am slowly putting some pieces together. It is amazing what you can learn from doing some internet research and finding out a few things on social media. (It is also probably very unhealthy.)

Another co-worker today, he has also been divorced. He was surprised to hear that I was getting divorced. But, he was very sweet. He told me, "Hang on. You will find joy again. You will laugh again." 

I know. I am not rushing into anything. I can't. I am a mom. That is my priority. 

"Excuse Me. There is mustard on your shirt."

One day I will blog about the day my husband told me he wanted a divorce. The first and the second time and how I moved out...because... Today, I want to write about people's reaction to when I tell them I am getting a divorce.

You see for the first two months, no one besides my immediate family and one of my friends in my office knew I was getting divorced. I don't know why I didn't tell more people. But, when people did find out they would always say something like, "Wow. You are doing so well. I never would have known."

Well, there is a lot I would like to say to this.

Like "Thanks, I try to keep my shit together."

Or, "I am really not doing well. I am just good at pretending."

Or, "I have two girls under five. I have to keep things together."

Or, "It's because I have a great support system."

Or, "Do you expect me to be a mess? The first three weeks were awful, but I also realized life has to go on."

I usually just smile and modestly say, "Thank you."

It is just so awkward. One day I may get to a place where it is normal. Or, maybe I will make a t-shirt that says, "Yes, I am divorced and I am (almost) ok."

When I told my sister about the comments people would make, she wondered, "Do people really expect you to be walking around with mustard on your shirt?"

Luckily, I live with my parents. My mom would never let me walk out the door with mustard on my shirt. She would give me a Shout Wipe and wash my shirt after I left for work.

Seriously.