dads and divorce

I want a tree.

And not just any tree, you guys.

I’m not talking about a Chinese Maple, or a Fern… or a Fig Tree. If I wanted my landscaping done, I would call up Pita Boy.

I want a Christmas Tree.

Ya, you heard me. This Jewish girl wants a Christmas Tree…and I want it now.

And I can have it, wanna know why?

Because I am not married to Mark anymore, and I can do whatever the fuck I want! 

Phew. Think he’s reading this? Not that he can really do anything about it anyhoo.  If I want a tree, he can’t stop me. After all, it’s my house. And it’s my life, and it’s my holiday to spend any damn way I choose. Now, I’m sure this is going to cause a whole lot of trouble around these parts! But guess what? I don’t care. I mean, before Mark came into the picture, I did actually have Christmas. I grew up with it. Until he came, and snatched it out of my life…like the Grinch. I don’t know, I guess I just thought I could convince him to celebrate it, even though we were raising the kids Jewish. Boo. I guess I didn’t bat my eyelashes hard enough. Or give him enough blow jobs. I lost that battle. I had “converted” when we got married, and promised to bid “adieu” to Old St.Nick. But secretly, I was sad. And wished my kids could feel the magic of Christmas…and still have Hanukkah. And still be Jewish. I mean, c’mon…can’t we just have it all? Nope. We can’t.

And truth be told…I promised myself if there was ever a chance to have Christmas again, I was going to take it! YES SIREE, KRIS KRINGLE! I need to grab the reindeer by the antlers and take my shot! So, this is it…call the lady who decorates all the houses, and let’s get this party started! You do understand where I live, right? I mean it’s Christmas before Thanksgiving is even over, for the love of Rudolph! My friends have been buying the decorations for their houses since last year, am I right girls? I am driving down the street, and even the cars are adorned. I am counting Reindeer noses and antlers on every car I pass. And there is a place here only an hour away called Christmas Town USA! I shit you not. You actually drive through the town, and it’s all lit up like fucking Times Square, only better. It’s just not fair. Not to my kids, not to me…and not to anyone that doesn’t celebrate Christmas. Not in the South. I mean, come on, all y’all! We can’t even compete with it. Hanukkah doesn’t stand a chance. It’s like the red-headed step child of holidays. Dang, what kid would ever pick a Menorah over a Christmas Tree, if given a choice? I am dying over here! You can’t even compare the two. Oy!

I wanted a tree a couple years ago. Just a tiny, little one. From Fresh Market. And Mark aka The Grinch said, if I got it…not to bother coming home. haha. Don’t you threaten me, Mister! In fact, I could just get an ax, and cut one down my damn self. Now that would be bat shit crazy! Picture that…a girl like moi, in the middle of the woods…wearing her motorcycle boots, and skinny jeans, looking for a tree. Ha.Ya, well…not so much. I can’t cut my own steak. How would I ever cut down an tree? Just like ordering my Thanksgiving dinner from Whole Foods (don’t judge) I would call up the tree people and have it delivered. Ummm. They do have “tree people” right? I’m assuming there’s a company for that? A guy with a some sort of saw-tool, that you can call to chisel down a nice, lush evergreen? I pick the size, and shape, the color. A nice shade of green. Perhaps on-line, and they just show up with it at my door? Yes! No? Well, what the fuck?! Someone needs to get on that. Like now. Yeesh. No Jew is going to cut down their own fucking Christmas tree, I’ll tell you that right now, for free. Ain’t gonna happen!

So, do I get the tree, or not?

What’s the big whoop? I mean, am I doing it for me, or to get back at Mark? Hmmm. Let me think about that. I don’t honestly know. What would the tree symbolize, really? A new beginning. A fresh start. Hope, and love…and a happy, holiday season. A new tradition for me, and the boys. I could take all my old ornaments from my Mom’s house, and put them on my new tree, which would be really cool. And I could have some of my family with me…in spirit. I love that. But what message would it be sending to my kids. My Jewish kids. They are not both religions. I am, I was born a “cashew”. Not them. Ugh. Crap. Here comes the internal struggle I have. I can only do what my gut is telling me…

And my heart. And as badly as I want a Christmas tree for me, maybe it’s not the best thing for my boys? Maybe I need to start a new tradition for the 3 of us. Maybe…just maybe, I need to get a BUSH!  Yes. I am going to get a bush. Or a plant. A Hanukkah plant. Or shrub. Or a Hanukkah Hosta. Am I really writing this? And no Hanukkah Harry. He is just such a loser. Now listen, don’t be all up in my shit about this blog. This is only my opinion, all y’all. Am I going to convert to Christianity, and start going to Mass on Sundays? I think not. I don’t think they would even let me in. In fact, I’m pretty close to certain the Church would go up in flames, or get struck by lightning. I’m just saying, I want a flipping tree. Is that such a shonda?

So, here is the plan…no Christmas tree. Damn. Maybe a Hanukkah plant or shrub. New traditions. No causing trouble, or getting back at Mark. And no confusing my kids. After all Jonah’s Bar Mitzvah is in 6 months. Omg. All I need is him ratting me out to the Rabbi, that kid has zero filters. I can see it now. He already hates being Jewish. He actually told the Rabbi he doesn’t believe in God, and that there is no way Moses could really have parted the Red Sea. Great. I say, give that boy a Christmas tree! We don’t have enough drama. lol. Better yet, let’s give him a Hanukkah Hosta…along with a punch card for all the therapy he will be needing. At least he will have lots to talk about. Ha. Have a Happy Holiday, all y’all, whatever you choose to celebrate…and a can someone invite me over for a tree-decorating party? Thanks! ;)

xo j

Ahhhhh….

It’s just too easy. The title for my blog today. lol. Duh.

Who’s your Daddy? Or your Baby’s Daddy…that is? 

Well, there is no question. Your daddy is your daddy. The guy who raised you. The guy who was there when you were born…brought you into this world. The guy who watched you take your first breath. You get it, the dude that gave your Baby, his Daddy! They share the same last name, and maybe a trait or two. The same one that is worried that he’s going to lose you in the divorce. And miss you when you’re with your Mom. Ok? The one that is sitting there, watching you totally dig the new boyfriend, while secretly hating him. And wishing he was a total loser, when he’s not. The “new man” is probably great, and nice…maybe everything you aren’t. Which is fine. Crap. I’m really sorry, but don’t you want your ex to be happy? She deserves to be in a good place, right? If she moves on, the kids will be good…everyone is thrilled! You might even get out of your alimony sooner if she gets hitched! ha.

Yeesh. The kids talk about him like he’s a new toy. What does he have that you don’t have, Dad? 

As a Mom, you pray for the new chic to be a good mom. And nice, and blah…blah blah, right? But as the Dad, do you really want the new guy to be all that and a bag of chips? Do you want him to be better at throwing a football, or funnier? Tell better jokes, or make more money? What if he is cooler, or has a really neat job… or carries a loaded weapon, or rides a motorcycle? OMG!! Can it get any worse than that? Sure. The new dude could be a brain surgeon, or a movie star. Or have a bigger dick. That would be worse. But this is about parenting. Not the bedroom. This is all about replacing YOU, daddy-O! I mean c’mon! This new guy never punishes them, or yells. He gives them pop with caffeine, and candy…and never says no. He is like the fun-Uncle. He is super nice to their Mom because he’s on his best behavior, and he wants to “make nice”. Of course they love him. It’s a no-brainier. For now….

But listen up, Daddies…and listen closely. No one will ever take the place of you in your kid’s life. Never, not ever. No siree-bob. No matter what. Not a chance. You are the one they love, and trust. And YOU are the one they feel safe with, and comfortable. No matter what the new guy does, or says….they will always come back to you. The guy with the same last name, and the same bad habits, and same DNA. You get my point. Divorce is a crazy, silly and complicated thing. But even I know, there is no chance on God’s Green Earth, that anyone could ever take the place of a father in their child’s life. Hold on to that, the next time you hear your kid talking about how “kick-ass” the new guy is. Just swallow, and breathe…and know that you are the one that they want.

So, Happy Father’s Day to both of the men in my life. Two of the BEST dad’s I’ve ever known. Both of which have amazing children, and are so good at what they do….being dads. And do you know how I know? They both have the strongest relationships with their kiddos. Sigh. Which is why I kinda know how to pick ’em, dontcha think? I have pretty great taste in men, if I do say so myself. And let’s just hope that I used all the right their, there’s and they’re today. Phew! ;)

xo j

“He didn’t tell me how to live; he lived, and let me watch him do it.”

 Clarence Budington Kelland