March 9th, 2010 08:00am
Ticking clocks
“Four years?!?” I exclaimed when Mr. W and I first brought up talk of moving in with each other a month or two ago. We were both too scared to even mention the “M” word, but my sister’s recent visit to introduce her fiancé had me reeling and questioning my own life. While we’ve been together for 1.5 years, Mr. W and I are in agreement that neither one of us wants to give up our homes in the now. We both love being together, and spend every weekend with each other. But we also enjoy having our own place to come home to at night. We enjoy that quiet time of not having to speak if we don’t want to. Frankly, we are still enjoying our independence way too much to combine our homes and our families. Besides, one of us (most likely me) would be moving from our home town to reside in the other’s town. That would mean uprooting the kids from their schools and their friends, and having a much longer commute every day. It’s not an easy change either of us wanted to make in the present.
But when I brought up future talk that involved moving in together, he mentioned that it most likely won’t happen until after his son graduates high school. And since his son is a freshman….
“Four years?!?” (more…)
As the weather turns from gloomy to a cautious warmth of sun, long winter coats give way for tank tops and skirts, and the birds start building their nests and preparing for a family on the way, springtime brings forth twitterpated hopes and dreams of wedding bells on the horizon. It seems like everywhere I turn, someone is getting engaged or is already planning the party of a lifetime to celebrate their union with the one they love. One of my best friends is getting married this August and has been sharing the details of food tastings, venue shoppings, and the adventure of finding the perfect wedding gown that will make her a princess for a day. My sister met the man of her dreams 6 months ago and, because they just knew, they are now planning their own wedding slated for next summer. Even my sister’s roommate is in on the season of weddings and became engaged and then married all in one week. Wedding bells are being sounded far and near, and even the most happily single person is being affected by the siren of this marriage call.
Over the summertime, my son started becoming extra clingy. I would be in the next room, and he would call out to make sure that I was still there. He wouldn’t go to his dad’s house without a fight because he didn’t want to leave me. He was constantly worried that I was going to abandon him, or that I might die. 
When I got to work this morning, Mr. W had left a book on my desk called “Assertive Discipline for Parents”. He had been reading it, and I expressed interest in it and asked to borrow it when he was done. It was still on my desk when one of my co-workers came over and saw it. At first my co-worker joked about it, but then he mentioned that it’s actually a good subject to read up on. He brought up a lady friend of his that had to cancel their lunch date because she needed to come home and fix her son lunch. Her son’s age? Oh, he’s 18. 
Before I left my husband, back when I knew I was actually going to leave him, I was scared of divorce. What would that mean for me? How would I make it on my own? Could I really care for the kids without another adult as a back-up? It was a scary step to actually leave and venture out into the world alone. Even though I had been raising the kids anyway with very little help from him, it was a very different feeling to know that there was no one there. Thank God I had my family to lean on in this time as they took me in for the first few years. But eventually I did move out. There was no child support, no joint custody, nothing. There was just me and the kids, facing the world boldly with hopes that we wouldn’t be swallowed up too badly. 
Growing up, I was fortunate to have both my parents in the home. My dad is a real estate appraiser, and though he worked a lot, we were often able to accompany him on local road trips when he went to look at houses. Sometimes we’d ride along with him, fascinated by the beauty of some areas that we never would have seen otherwise. Other times he would drop my mom and us three girls off at the park so we could have a picnic. He’d join us when his appointment was done.
Dad was the one who had the ideas for fun places to go and things to see. Who knew that sitting in the lobby of a fancy hotel, as if we were guests, enjoying hot chocolate by the fire could be so much fun. But with Dad, it was his way of instilling make-believe in us. 
I moved into my own apartment a couple years after my divorce. It was a liberating move on my part, one I could barely afford. But I was determined to do so nonetheless. I had never had my own place before. The day after I graduated high school, I moved in with my future ex-husband. I was sure that living at my parents’ house another day would surely kill me, convinced that I had it so bad. I was sure that living on my own would free me from their domineering clutches and would allow me to finally be my own person.
Life seemed to start when my daughter was born in February of 1998. I was 20 years old and I knew nothing about motherhood. 3 years later and I also became the mom of a son. But when I look back at all that now, I can see that this was only the prologue. Life changes, and mine certainly did when I became a divorced mom with two kids to raise.