I hate Mark.
Wait. Ummm. Holy shit. I just realized something…
I am not married to him anymore. I no longer have to take his crap, and he doesn’t have to deal with mine. And we are just two people raising our kids together. Wow. Wooooowwwza. Ok. So, I guess I am asking this question: when do we as parents say enough is enough? When do we throw in the “it’s the best for the kids” towel, and do what’s best for US? Put ourselves first, and them second..or do we always put them first. Good questions, huh? I am new at this, I just need a little time to talk to myself, and figure it out. Bring out my inner monologue..
When do I start living for ME, and not for my boys?
Well, I’m not going to judge anyone else, for their choices. But my answer is simple. And honest of course, because you know that’s how I roll. And I’m gonna give it to you straight. As far as this divorce thing goes, my kids didn’t ask for it. They didn’t want it, or deserve it. What they did expect, was a happy family. With two parents who were married, and living in the same house. A white picket fence, and a puppy or a goldfish. They want family trips, and holidays together. They want their mom and dad together. They want “happy”. Whatever. We fucked that up. Mark and I wrecked their hopes and dreams.. and shattered their every expectation of what a “real family” was supposed to be. And I will never be ok with that. I will never look in the mirror, and respect myself…or think I am a good mom. I am sad every day. So for me, the choice is easy. I will start living for me.. when they are living for themselves. Make sense? For now, I will do what I think is best for them. Even if it means sacrificing my happiness. Hold on, a little credit. I did get divorced after all, that was huge. I knew that was important for them, happy parents meant happy kids.. one day. I hope.
I may not like Mark, sure. And he may not like me. Duh. Which is why we are not married. (Here is where all you divorced couples that are in “awe” of our relationship need to really tune-in, k?) But, we made a choice to put our kids first. THE KIDS COME FIRST. And so you know, Gwyneth Paltrow is riding on MY coattails, baby. lol. I get more messages asking how we do it. How do you and Mark stay so amicable? How do you get along SO well? How are you such great friends? OMG, all y’all? Do you think we like each other THAT much? NO! We just LOVE OUR KIDS THAT MUCH MORE!!! We both know, that if we fight, and argue.. and bicker. And go at each other, our kiddos will suffer! And haven’t they suffered enough? Jesus, guys. And Mark wants to kill me, too. He does. lol. He told me yesterday, to stop talking to him. That I should text him, cause my voice was making him cringe. I was like, no shit. We spent our marriage texting. How do you think we lasted 13 years. We texted each other from different rooms in the house, I shit you not. #embarassing
Welcome to our “nest”.
I know, it’s a little unconventional. We are doing it a bit “out there”. But it is working. Let me explain. We are co-parenting, or also known as, “nesting”. The boys are staying in our original house, and Mark and I share a 2-bedroom, 2-bathroom apartment down the street. Yup. Pick your mouths up off the floor. We are NEVER there at the same time. We switch in and out every Monday night. Get it? So we are never in the apartment or the house at the same time. It’s kinda cool, so the boys never pack a bag, or a toothbrush. They never leave their dogs. Or their beds. It’s amazing, actually. But it’s hell for us. Mark and I switch weeks, and move to the apartment. And we are exhausted.. and I sleep in a fucking IKEA bed. Not a thing wrong with it, I’m just a spoiled brat. But apartment living ain’t so nice, when you’re used to being in a big house like a Prima donna. Poor me. Cry me a river. Waaaaa. And the neighbors wake me up at 5am, bitching and whining… and falling down the flipping stairs. I’m like, really? Get your ass up, and stop your crying, I’m sorry you broke your leg. But, I’m sleeping, bitch! Damn. It’s hard. But can you imagine kids doing it? Not judging, just saying. If we are having a hard time, think about a kid. Ugh.
So, I have this girlfriend, and she is strong. And smart. And amazing. And basically who I want to be when I grow up. Really. She’s divorced, too. And she did it right. The whole divorce thing. Didn’t fight or yell. Never called her ex names in carpool, or shot at him. Or tried to poison him. She has kids the same age as mine, and just did it right, ya know? And when we were moving me into the apartment, I told her I was crying in Target. In the light bulb aisle, I just couldn’t figure out which light bulbs to buy. It’s really Mark’s job to buy light bulbs, I told her. But she just laughed, and told me.. I’d learn which light bulbs to get. And we made my room all pretty. It’s really so pretty. And I have a flowered bedspread. And it’s pink, and gray.. with candles, and girly stuff. It was like moving into a college dorm room. Shit. I cried so hard, like my life was starting over again. Mark built all my furniture, like my dad did back at MSU. Thanks, Mark. But we still don’t have a fucking couch. My friend and I were back in my apartment last weekend drinking wine, and hanging out.. and she was like, “You still don’t have a couch. Can you get a fucking couch?!” I love her. And yes, my sweet girl. I am getting a fucking couch. My ass hurts from sitting on the floor. Couch is coming.
The best thing about my “arrangement” is that I get to see my kids everyday when I pick them up after school, which is the only way I could live…seeing them everyday. I take them back to the “nest” and either stay with them at the house, or wait for Mark to come home from work, and then I go back to the apartment. But I bet you’re wondering what kind of life that leaves for me? Like what kind of guy would ever date a woman who’s still shackin’ up with her ex-husband in two different locations? Well, kinda. Oh, and I left something out. We can only have “friends” in the apartment. Not in the “nest”. All these rules! Well, after reading my blog, do you have to ask what kinda guy? You got it..
If a guy has a problem, or any issues with my current situation, then he is not the man for me. Duh. End of story. It is what it is, Cheese Whiz.. and it’s going to take a pretty strong, confident…and secure man to hang in my world. Snap! My kids come first, and that is that. Funny little story, I was on this date..and I’m going on and on, just making the biggest deal about Pita Boy’s ex-girlfriend, ok? Remember Pita Boy? The hot guy who tried to take my pita, and almost lost a finger. Ok, anyway.. we went on another date.. and I was giving him tons of shit about his ex, and how he must still have the hots for her, and blah blah blah. He’s just looking at me, like I’m on frickin’ crack. And he so nicely says, “Jen, you’re still legally married, and basically live with your ex.. in not one, but TWO different places. Why are you giving ME shit?”
|Life at the apartment…cute, right ?|
Ha. Gotta love a man with huge balls. First, he takes food off my plate..then he tells me to go fuck myself. I am totally calling the Rabbi. Shhhh, don’t tell him. It might scare him off. After all, I told Mark I was going to marry him on our first date, and look where we ended up.
Happy Passover to all my peeps..be kind to one another.