Relief

Sometimes God comes through. I don't mean He doesn't always come through. I mean sometimes when I least expect it, least deserve it, and have spent the least amount of time asking for it, He comes through. In His big grand way. And answers the prayers I have not known how to pray.
I am living in the middle of proof that money makes a mess of family court. The sperm donor landed himself a Philly girl with rich parents. And the legal documents thrown my way are endless and horrifying. Sometimes I get discouraged. Sometimes I want to give up. And then the pastor talks about remembering whose battle this really is. Paul did not consider himself a prisoner of the Romans, though they held him. He considered him a prisoner of Christ, for whom he served.
So I don't fight a battle of my own. This blue eyed angel was created for a reason, protected for a reason, and given to me for a reason, so I will not give up. I started this week with that simple prayer, facing the 2nd of 2 abusive, cornered-in-opposing-council's-office, videotaped and hassled depositions. And God comes through. The depositions been cancelled. The pressure is off. Hallelujah!!

Ranting

I never knew it would be this hard. People say, "What do you do?" I'm not sure where to start. I'm a single mom. I have a full time job (that I love.) I have 14 college credits this term. When I'm done trying to describe what I "do" and the glaze fades from the eyes of the poor sap who asked me, they say, "Wow. You are a busy lady. How do you do it?" Before the question is out though, they have one foot moving the other direction. I don't know how I do it and I know they don't really want to know either. It's not sexy like Erin Brokovich. Or I'm not. Or something. I am developing a deeper understanding of women who stay with men who suck, because sometimes being alone sucks more. I'm also developing a lack of patience for men in general because I just don't have the energy to figure out if their suckiness is worth figuring out. Sometimes I'd love to have someone here to share some inane fact I just learned in my sociology class, or to help start the mac and cheese so I don't lose the steam I have going on the paper I'm writing. And then I figure he would be too busy watching tv to listen to me talk or start the mac and cheese, and then I'd have to wash his socks before I got back to my paper. Makes my empty bed look better. Sometimes I wonder if I have enough brain cells for this. Figure out how to write a grant so the non profit I'm working for stays afloat. Teach myself web programming because we can't afford a web designer and nobody volunteers anymore. Write 4 papers a week and prepare for my math test. Learn Spanish in an online class when I can hardly understand the instructions, and they are written in English. Oh, and I'm sorry, what? My kids need homework help?

What do I do? My brain is too full to answer you now. Ask me in a few years.

Reflections on eHarmony

I am compiling a list of dos and don'ts for men wanting to post profiles on dating websites. Well, a list of mostly don'ts at the moment but I will keep adding to this. Here are a few:

1. DON'T pick for your main profile photo a shot of you wearing camouflage, holding a rifle, and standing in front of a curtain in what looks like a semi finished basement. I am going to assume that your first two eHarmony matches are chained up behind the curtain.

2. DON'T say that you are looking for someone to teach you how to trust. You simply mean you are looking for someone to pay for what SHE did to you.

3. DON'T get on eHarmony if you're not divorced yet.

4. DON'T classify yourself in the body type section as "needs to lose a few" if you are 75 pounds overweight. 75 is not a few. 8 is a few.

5. DON'T say you want kids because you think that's what women want to hear. If I see you want to breed, I DELETE YOU. I already have bladder control issues on a trampoline. No more people need to live in this body with me ever again.

More to come. I am learning so much. I may never fall in love again but I will always be here to irritate those who try!

Smarter than he looks

Sometimes I hear my kids playing and I think, Alex isn't going to get it. His sister has outsmarted him again. I will learn someday not to underestimate him. The other day, I heard him say, "Elena, I don't like your shoes." She stopped for a moment and then replied, "Well, it's opposite day!!" Feeling vindicated, she turned to walk happily away. She and I both thought she had him. She didn't get a few feet across the room before I heard his happy reply, "Heeeey Eleeenaaaaa! I loooooove your shoes!"

Oh these little people that live in my house are so amazing. Who needs sitcoms??

I sent an email I am still unsure of. These things fester in my heart and by the time they become emails, Lord help the recipient. I did wait on this one, and edit and edit. Through the years since my divorce one of my ex husbands favorite past times has been latching on to what is important to me in order to bother me with it. (Or so it seems from my point of view.) He clung desperately to our pastor and would call me victoriously to announce their next golf game. When I left that church, he grew bored and lost touch with that pastor. Whenever he possibly can, he will latch on to conversations with my family, who are boundlessly more generous and loving than his own. Because to his family, I am "dead" (yes, picture a large Italian woman spitting on the floor) he finds great joy in not being dead to mine. On one hand this is a beautiful picture of the love people have for one another. They see him as the father of my children and their words and cards of encouragement would be an enormous blessing in most situations. Unfortunately, my ex can't keep the love they've shown to himself. He calls me joyfully to announce the father's day card from my parents. He speaks endlessly of his plans to golf with my stepbrother when his job takes him to Boise. He is (or was ... but that's to come) facebook friends with them all. He loves nothing more than to tell me he spent a Sunday at my sister's discussing the multitude of things that are wrong with me. I have asked family members in the past to cut off contact with him, both because of his attitude and because I would like to have a new husband someday and I want them to have room in our family for him. I began feeling lately that I hadn't asked strongly enough, as recent contact with my ex from my family started an extremely stressful argument between us. So, I wrote a group email to my parents and siblings giving them an opportunity to choose. Relationship with him or relationship with me. I sent the email two days ago, and so far no response. However, it does seem that the ex has been dumped as a facebook friend by a few .... just a stepsister and a brother in law to go.

These are conversations I wish I didn't have to have. This is what people don't consider when they think of what it's like to be divorced. I don't regret my divorce because the things that drove us apart still have not changed and likely will never change, but this is not easy. Not for anyone.

I am nestled between my babies on the futon in my dad's spare room. The fire is on and the stars are out in overwhelming splendor. Just a few hours ago, before the sun set, Mount Blanca looked down at us through the front windows. Mountains are God's strength to me. Altitude brings me God's peace. I eat better, sleep more deeply, and breathe with gratitude here. What a beautiful place to celebrate Easter.

I have so much to be grateful for. God is doing amazing things, undeserved things, in my life. More on that soon. For now it's amazing to hold something breathtaking in my heart.

Grass is not greener

More purging .... the storage unit is empty (yay!) but my dining room is full. Full of totes and boxes and camping chairs. It's temporary, as temporary as I can make it. It must be sorted and made smaller, this pile of stuff that tells the story of my life. I have to keep the journals and the photos and the little sundress I got for Elena at the Gap when she was one .... the rest of the pile has to go. Some of it has been given away and the rest will be carted down the sidewalk to the trash compactor at building #13. For today however, I had to run away from home. Spring break is over and there are stories to read, research to be done, and essays to write. I couldn't do all of that in the shadow of those totes, because they call to me and drown out my thoughts. So I'm at Borders working hard (obviously) thinking that this is the peaceful environment I need. There's an older couple reading in the corner to my left. A good friend to my right, pretending to work as hard as I am. A woman knitting, another typing, and a young couple reading at the front. Ahhhh. Nice. And then, from the man on my left, sitting alone near the wall, mumbling. He's just finished a very loud interactive German lesson on his computer. Two women left because it was so irritating. When he put the computer away, I thought I was free. But now the talking to himself. The sitting and staring at people. The black unabomber bag. The homicidal mumbling. The obvious lack of personal hygiene. Perhaps I will go home. Those totes don't bother me so much....

When the night is over

Sweet sweet girl. How many times do I have to sit by your side at night, stroking your hair, wishing my fingers could paint enough love into your forehead to make up for the fact I am not the mom I would dream for you? I lose my way, my patience, my ability to remember what this is all about, so very easily. Sure, it was a snow day. School was cancelled. We were supposed to go to your Papa's house, but the weather changed our plans. I tried to roll along but I am not as flexible or generous of heart as I pretend to be. So your Gramma's here. We were supposed to go shopping, she and I. She was disappointed when the snow day was announced. We spent too much time lamenting our lost adult time and not enough time embracing you. And you must have sensed it, sensed my lack of what to give, and you needed me, you asked for me. I tried to explain, I tried to spend time, but it wasn't what you needed. So when I told you tonight that I'd had enough, really the truth is that I just didn't give enough. And now you are asleep, and I sit here beside you. I forget how lucky I am to have you. I forget that you didn't ask for me. I chose you. I brought you into this. I thought I'd figure it out along the way. And just when I think I'm doing okay I fail you. So, beautiful angel, gift from God, I give you my promise. Tonight I will stroke messages of love into your forehead, hoping you will dream sweet dreams, and tomorrow I will get up and try again to give you all that you deserve. Or at least some of it. And I pray that the love I have for you will overwhelm my mistakes and you will know how deeply you are loved.

New Personal Resume

I decided today that I spend too much time thinking of all that I don't have going for me. I have considered myself undate-able (not that I'm really looking, but ....) and as a very messy work in progress. Although I do believe I will always be a work in progress, I have decided to redefine my personal resume, or at least how I tell it to myself in my head. On one hand, I am a divorced mom, broke college student, minimum wage barista who'd like to lose about 5 more pounds and is desperate for a good vacation. On the other hand, on my new personal resume hand, I am a successful single mother with two children who excel in behavior and academic effort. (I know hard parenting times are ahead so we have to be really really happy when they're good.) I am a motivated and determined college student, so far managing to pull straight A's with an aging brain and two little children on my mind. I am also successfully handling an amazing job that offers me full benefits for 20 hours a week, which more than makes up for the less than stellar pay (for now.) I am a published writer and photographer. I have lived in five states and even Mexico for a time. My life has already stretched out in adventure and there is so much more adventure to be had. I am a student of the Bible, and at this age I am grateful some of it was written on my heart when I was young because those are still the parts I know the best. I am a good daughter and am becoming a better girlfriend (to my girlfriends, don't get too excited) the more I practice. Most importantly I am learning to bloom as a woman who is loved by Jesus. This is my personal resume. This is a really good life.

Blogging and such ... I miss my journal

I was cleaning out my storage this weekend. My mother is having another episode and when she does, I purge. So, cleaning, donating, sorting, and I came across my journals. Handwritten and often misspelled, the earliest dating 1982. (Yes, I was alive and old enough to journal in 1982.) I found the name of a boy who broke my heart one of those early years (yes he's a facebook friend of mine but I WILL NEVER TELL. Well, maybe someday. With the right persuasion.) I wrote loving letters to "My Diary" as if she were a real person, my counselor and comforter and friend. I miss my journal. So this is now a journal of sorts, for the process, for the thoughts, for our journey. Because now I am not just writing the voyage of me, I am a contributing writer to the voyage of two more. Miss Elena, my blue eyed, brilliant, kind and WAAAY to beautiful nine year old daughter. And Mr. Alex, the sweetest little brown eyed, green converse clad little hand holder alive. Hope you enjoy, and stretch, and laugh, for then I will have served my purpose.