Living Happily Ever After

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An Unexpected Realization

So life carried on in Utah.

I worked all day, commuted home, spent time with my children in the evenings, tried to keep up with laundry and cleaning to some degree, but mostly worried about the emotional state of my children and tried to do anything I could think of to help them through the trauma.

My children were incredible troopers through the whole thing. My daughter took it upon herself (without being asked) to take over the menu planning, grocery shopping, and cooking. She also became the second mother to her younger siblings AND did much of the laundry.

My oldest son took it upon himself (without being asked) to do yard work, car maintenance, and train his younger brothers in those things. He brainstormed yard projects he wanted to do someday if we ever had money. He even helped discipline. I remember one night my middle son was struggling with grief and the fallout from his new life, and he spoke to me rudely. My oldest son went to him, brought him to face me, and said, “You don’t talk to your mother that way. Apologize.”

I felt bad that he had to take on such an adult role, but was also grateful for the help and support. What I felt most, however, was amazement that I had such incredible children who so excellently rose to the demands of their new life and carried on without complaint! They kept their grades up, they added many responsibilities to their lives, and they didn’t ask for things they wanted–they knew there was no money. They cared for each other, worked together, and grew closer. They will be amazing, prepared adults–I’ve already seen glimpses of that.

My youngest turned 4 years old. We didn’t have much money to celebrate, but we did what we do best. We gathered around the birthday boy and shared all of the things we love about him. (Compliments don’t cost anything!) Sharing our love was free. After which we had birthday cake and a family dance party. In the middle of the song “Kung Fu Fighting,” my middle son was standing on a bench dancing karate moves when we heard a thunderous crash, looked over, and saw him laying on his back amid the shattered remains of what had once been a bench in the entry way of our home!

We all froze, not sure if he was hurt or possibly even paralyzed! Then we saw him start shaking with laughter. Soon we all joined in. What a memory! (And of course, we told him not to move while my oldest grabbed a camera and captured the memory in a picture!) It not only was the first time I’d ever lost a piece of furniture to destruction by a child, but it was one of the first of many “crazy” fun times in the our new HOME. It was worth the sacrifice of wood and upholstery; the bench hadn’t really fit in the new home anyway.

I think that was the night our house became our home for good.

I also got some of the best advice I’ve ever received as a single mom right about that time. From a friend who had been a single mother of four herself. She told me she felt the most important thing she did was to not worry about the house and long “to do” lists when she was home with her children in the evenings, but rather, she let the house go and simply enjoyed her children. Not only was that good advice for me, it was liberating. I felt like I had permission to not worry about the dust, and I was free to spend time with my kids!

And that I did. Some nights we went up the canyon. Sometimes we just sat in the backyard and talked. We played games. Sometimes we went for a drive or an ice cream cone. But after the dinner dishes were done, we didn’t worry about work. We just enjoyed each other, and I’m grateful we did. I have no regrets about working less, but I’d sure have regrets if I’d enjoyed my children less!

Sleep was in short supply last summer, but fun and love was plentiful. Looking back, we were our own version of “Musketeers.” All for one and one for all! As scary as it was to be alone in the world with my four children, that was also such a special time. We grew even closer together and learned to love and appreciate each other even more. We worked to see that we were still a family–not broken, not minus anything, a whole unit. A different unit than we had once been, but a solid family unit. (We just had to rely on others more for help with some things.)

Those were GREAT times. To be the sole parent and support of four children, to be a single mother, and everything that came with our new life was unexpected. But at the same time, it turned out to be such an opportunity and a blessing for my children and I. And most unexpectedly, I NEVER thought I’d say this, but should our situation ever change…there is a part of me that will miss those days when it was just my children and I: scared and bonded together like glue in our fear, experiencing new things, growing in unexpected ways, learning to laugh again, and rising above challenges together day after day, time after time, until one day we all realized we felt “normal.”

Triumphant.

Healed.

In our unexpected life.

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A Child of The 60s

I don’t remember which dark day occurred first last year: the day my former spouse was taken in to custody or the day I turned 42. In some ways, difficult days had become a blur, they occurred all too often in my life last year!

So about my birthday.

“Well, birthdays are merely symbolic of how another year has gone by and how little we’ve grown. No matter how desperate we are that someday a better self will emerge, with each flicker of the candles on the cake, we know it’s not to be, that for the rest of our sad, wretched pathetic lives, this is who we are to the bitter end. Inevitably, irrevocably; happy birthday? No such thing.” (Jerry Seinfeld)

In some ways, that was my birthday last year.

August 25, 2009, wasn’t a fun day to turn 42 years old and face my life for what it was! It certainly wasn’t where I had envisioned myself being by that age. Talk about feeling like a loser.

All I could think of was that I had very little of what I had ever wanted or dreamed of. My marriage had failed. I was overwhelmed with all kinds of legal pressures, financial pressures, work pressures, and life pressures. I had always thought I’d “be” someone or someplace or somewhere in life by that age. Instead, I was starting over. Wait. Make that starting from well behind the “start line” compared to most people my age! I was still trying to claw my way out of the dark abyss I had been knocked into by the choices of another.

42.

If I’ve ever had a birthday I would like to have skipped or forgotten, it was my birthday last year.

I worked all day and told no one it was my birthday. I certainly didn’t want to face it, much less celebrate it! I wanted to forget it. But I couldn’t. To me, it was an anniversary of my failures. I probably cried in the bathroom at work that day and for sure cried on the drive home.

I arrived home to find my children ready to celebrate my birthday. They had set the table, cooked dinner, and had somehow scraped together some funds to buy me a gift. They had all secretly gone to the mall to purchase it together–all of them. (Anyone who has ever taken my youngest shopping knows what a labor of love that effort, in itself, was!) They were glowing with anticipation and delight at celebrating a year in my life with me.

While I had tried so hard to forget that day, they had gone all out to remember it.

And they weren’t the only ones. A friend sent me flowers. A friend had her college-age daughter deliver a birthday cake to me. A friend took me to lunch. Friends called. Friends sent gifts. My children looked at me with delight and made a fuss over me. And I had a job and a roof over my head.

Hadn’t I said all along if I could just have a job and a roof over my head, I could handle everything else? Alone or not, 42 or not, that was still the truth. I had everything I needed. And it wasn’t over.

“Whatever with the past has gone, the best is always yet to come.” (Anonymous) I just had no idea, at the time, how true that statement by an unknown person would turn out to be for me, in my own life.

“Sooner or later we all discover that the important moments in life are not the advertised ones, not the birthdays…not the great goals achieved. The real milestones are less prepossessing. They come to the door…unannounced, stray dogs that amble in, sniff around a bit and simply never leave. Our lives are measured by these.” (Susan B. Anthony) And what we do with them.

It is absolutely what we do with our moments, THE moments we’ve been given, that matters. The challenge is to bloom and blossom like a rose, instead of close up or become bitter like a cabbage.

Roses versus cabbage? Do I even have to think about it? Does anyone?

Flower power!

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