Water Under the Bridge

I can chalk up some stuff to water under the bridge and if I’m in the right mood all of it.  You live and learn.  What doesn’t kill you only makes you stronger.  But this weekend was my ex’s 25th year high school reunion.  He met up with his best friend and his wife who have supported me along the way with encouragement and sympathy.  He met up with them and his new partner, girlfriend, love, or whatever you want to call her.  I tend to lean toward more vulgar names that I wouldn’t publish.  Most of me was okay with this reality.  What’s done is done and all that.  But a small part of me wanted to be there for me.  To see all our friends again from high school.  To show them I’m 20 lbs lighter.  To be happy and smile and have fun.

When I think about my ex sometimes all I think about is “us”.  Not him and me or what was wrong with him or me.  But the “us” we were for 23 years.  He was part of my identity.  That is what happens when you get married.  You allow yourselves to melt into each other.  I did.  Then I had to find the just me again and I did but it wasn’t easy.

Now I have “my life” and I’m happy.  Truly.  But I think sometimes in weak moments about what if he never texted her that he missed her on our cruise.  What if her husband had never called the house angry.  What if he had trusted me to love him and put him first as I was trying to do.  What if things had gone differently.

I would have been on my way to LA last night with him all dressed up to meet his best friend and wife.  I would have tried unsuccessfully to coax him out of his chair to dance.  I would have told him he looked great, knowing he was 30 lbs overweight.  I would have been looking for anyone to talk to.  I would have been miserable.

Even still I was sad and mourned this afternoon over that.  Maybe cause I thought I should?  I don’t know.  He was my husband and I loved him.  But I don’t anymore.  You can’t when someone is wicked toward you.  Love turns to regret.

So instead of sitting in that stew of sadness I chose to see my new reality that even still surprises me.

Martin rang me at 9:42 AM and we talked for 3 hours on Skype.  I made breakfast for myself and went about my day at home and he was there with me.  Winding down a hot summer evening in Exeter.  I even got to say hello to his brother.   We tried to plan our next visit.  And dreamed about me going over to England for a month.  Could that be possible?

I work from home so why not?  I’d have to find someone to look after my kids but why not their dad?  Is it possible?  Maybe.  Why not go for my 42 birthday and stay to our 2nd anniversary?  That would be exactly 45 days.  I’ve never spent 45 day with him before.   My kids would miss me too much.

You see, there is so much going on in my head.  Too much.  He is checking on Monday about the papers that were to be filed while he was away.

After we hung up on Skype I was trying to decide what I should do and I made a photo book of his trip here with his girls.  While I was working that blasted John Denver song Leaving on a Jet Plane came on Pandora.  This time while listening to it I heard every word.  And I thought…wow.  Wow.

Every single word of it is us.  Every single word.  How amazing that we sang it our first night meeting.  We had no clue. No idea what we were in store for.

He is wonderful.  Even with his flaws he is better than any man I have ever known. He lets me in.  Somewhere I never was with my ex.

 

Left Wanting

I’m so sad tonight.  I know it will pass.  I’ve got lots going on this weekend.  I planned it this way on purpose to force myself out of sadness.  I know we have lots to look forward to.   I’m happy to say as I have watched and waited, that Martin has been a man of his word. My ill-at-ease feelings have subsided.  It’s not an easy thing we are attempting to do.  It is downright scary, like walking through a mine field.  But somehow with the Lord’s help we are not only getting through it but we are making it look somewhat easy.

This trip marked a new phase in Martin and my relationship.  We have “integrated”.  His kids have seen me in the morning, after I’ve driven over 5 hours in a straight shot and after a day at Disneyland.  I think they know me pretty well.  Martin and I did our best to include everyone in everything or at least make sure everyone knew they were welcome.  His kids were up for anything.  My kids would often wander away to their computers to seek solace, or shade.  But all in all we had a great time all together.

It’s just that Martin and I did not get our fill of each other.  We didn’t have much time alone at all where we could talk freely or be openly affectionate.  And because it was his girls first time out we weren’t as relaxed around them as we are with my kids.  Martin hasn’t had much time with his girls in the last two years so they were settling in to each other as they were getting to know me.

He and I would often look at each other from across the room as if to say, I miss you – even though we were together.  But we did miss each other.  We were last to go to bed just to be able to be alone and first to wake up every morning, but it wasn’t enough.  We were left wanting.

Even our kiss goodbye was short and polite.  Nothing like the tear-jerking declarations of love they usually are.  But we knew it would be like that.  We knew this trip had a different purpose.  Integration.  And that takes time and patience.  So we committed ourselves to it.

On our way to the airport I asked the girls what their favorite  part of the trip was.  That got the memories flowing and everyone said something different.  At the end of the conversation Martin said, “Thanks for arranging such a nice week for us.”  And I looked at him across the borrowed Suburban that I am now adapted at driving, furrowed my eyebrows and said, “I would do anything for you.” As I said the words I looked up into the rear view mirror and saw one of his girls looking back at me.  She had heard what I said and I’m sure also noticed the tears that quickly started flowing out of my eyes.  I quietly wiped them away and took a few deep breaths so as not to descend into a blubbering mess.

But after I hopped back into the truck and drove away from them at LAX I was literally sobbing.

100 more kisses would have been good.  I’m never full up.  1000 more hand squeezes and 1 million more hugs might have tied me over until August or September.  It’s going to be a very long summer.

My daughter has never been as affectionate as me.  We would hug and I’d keep hugging and she’d start pushing me away.  She would settle down better at night if I just laid her down and walked away than if I cuddled her.  When she was about 3 I would give her kiss after kiss at bedtime and one night she put her hands on my shoulders pushed me away and said, “Mommy, I’m full up of kisses for today.  No more.  Try again tomorrow.”  It killed me that she wouldn’t let me smother her with kisses.  I was left wanting then.

And I am left wanting more now.  More.  More.  More of everything.  More time mostly.  Time to be still with each other. Luckily we match each other on this level.  We both need more and yet we are committed to seeing this through.  It amazes me.  But one thing I know.  When we begin to take each other for granted in the years to come, we will have this time to remember us back into appreciation for the little things.  Like warmth, breath, wiping crumbs off chins, smells, and having a finger to hook your finger onto.  We will be able to look at each other and mean it when we say, “At least we are together.”  It will mean a world of difference and hopefully the wait won’t be too much longer.

Full House, Full Heart

So far so good.  We’ve done the OC and Vegas.  Done the pool, and laying out.  Barbecues and restaurants.  Badminton and card games.  Other than the occasional emotional flare up from my daughter who is trying to adapt to Martin’s daughters getting lots of my attention.  It’s been near perfect.  Whew.

Martin is Martin. 

Last night we brought the dining room table outside and lit 10 lanterns all around the pool.  We  grilled asparagus, mashed potatoes, and grilled corn with rib eye steaks.  We sat around the fire pit and listened to my son play guitar while we roasted giant marshmallows for smores.  We took midnight dips into the pool to cool off from the hot tub listening to music.  It was pretty great.

I’m realizing a family of 6 is expensive to feed but cheaper if you go to the grocery store and cook.  My quiet days and nights alone are filled up this week with family.  And I am full up.  I love a full house.  I love things happening in rooms where I don’t know what is going on.  Just hearing chatter and laughing or some music.  I don’t mind the mess.  I love the activity.  I was laying down a couple of nights ago thinking, this is special.  We are all here.  And all happy. I’ve never loved Martin more and I’ve never believed we CAN DO THIS more than I do this week.  It feels much more real.

What I would give to have more of it.  Longer.  They go home on Thursday.  I will miss him even more.  But for now I will get off my computer and say good morning and soak up the time I’ve been given and be thankful.  Thankful to overflowing.

Ready or NOT!

No!  I’m not ready!  Let’s face it there are some things we just can’t be ready for.  Yes we can plan and prepare but since we really don’t know what we are getting ourselves into…(think parenting) we can’t really say we are ready now can we?  No.   All we can say is that we are ready as we will ever be, so bring it on.

I have been preparing for this visit with Martin and his girls for about three weeks now.  It started with buying IKEA furniture and fixing up the guest bedroom.  Calling a plumber to make sure the bath turns into a shower in the downstairs bathroom.  Fixes I’ve been putting off for years for lack of a motivating reason.

I then moved onto washing the windows inside and out, getting rid of cobwebs in corners, cleaning out from under sinks and closets, sprucing up with some new knickknacks.  But the more I do, the more I see I need to do and thus the more there is to be done!  When will it be good enough?  When will I give my kids a break from chores?  Haha.  I know the answer to this.  When they walk through the door.

In the meantime I will continue to write and rewrite lists, do loads of laundry, make my house smell good, get my oil changed in my car, throw away stuff I don’t need, get the grocery shopping done, keep washing my face with anti-acne stuff hoping those last two zits disappear, keep running 3 miles a day (for some reason I’m compelled), keep nagging my son to get his room clean-ER.  Why? Because I don’t feel ready.

I AM NOT READY  to face these girls who have been told God knows what and thinking and feeling who knows what.  I’m literally filtering everything from their perspective (which I have no clue of) as if I could know it.  Asking myself what would they think of this or that, or how would this make them feel.  Will this make it seem like I’m trying too hard?  Will they think I’m lame for this?

Will they like that I’m silly and bubbly most of the time or will it annoy them?  Will they look at each other as if to say, “Please shut her up!” or will they find it refreshing?

Was getting one giant hotel room with everything including the kitchen sink a good idea for when we visit Las Vegas for my nephew’s graduation party?  Or a really, really bad one?  Four women and one bathroom?  What was I thinking?

Oh Lord have mercy on me.  Everybody knows I’m nervous as heck because they keep calling me and saying, “So how are you doing???”  I’m just this bundle of nervous energy right now.  Thankfully I just started my period so I’m done with PMS because that in the mix would be catastrophic.

I know logically all of this fretting is absurd.  But I play out scenarios in my head constantly.  Them walking in the door, and everyone either being relaxed and themselves or everyone sitting down stoically staring at each other.

Will they feel uncomfortable or jealous at how familiar we are with their dad?  Or will they be happy he’s found something to cure his loneliness they know he’s lived in forever?

I know I can’t possibly answer these questions.  I know that like most things this will just happen if I’m ready or not.

I know that all my preparations are not really  for them.  They will enter my home for the first time and take it all for granted because how do they know anything is different? I’m doing it for me and for Martin.  I want him to know how important this is to me.  I want to honor him by giving his girls as comfortable and enjoyable time as possible.

The rest is surely up to God.  And as I rationalize that in my brain I know that as soon as I’m done writing this post I will go to Home Depot to get a halogen light bulb, a couple of plants and then I will hang the lanterns I bought last week on the porch and clean the window above the front door so that it’s not too smudgy (we did a horrible job on that one the first time around.)  I might replace my roll out roller thing that holds my trash can in my kitchen cause it’s broken and then tonight after its dark and I realize I’ve run out of time to do anything else.  Then and only then will let the cards fall where they may.

They will either hate me or like me.  I’d prefer one of the two over complete indifference.  And I will either like or dislike them.

My guess is even though we are all very different, we do have one thing in common.  We all  love Martin more than anything.  And I think because of that, everything will be just fine.

Part of my preparation is some heavy-duty Bible study to get my head in the right place.  I’m focusing on Romans 12:9-21.    Tonight is verse 12 which is why I chose this passage in the first place.  It says it all for me.

“Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer.”

So far it is really helping me get to sleep at night.

But tomorrow I will wake up, do some work, have my cup of coffee.  Start the Carnitas, make the black bean salad and salsa.  Trade cars with my friend who owns a Suburban (a godsend).  And I will get into that truck in the afternoon and make my trek to LAX.  This time to pick up three tired Brownes from a long plane ride from England instead of only one.

Ready or not, here they come!

Fixing a Hole

I never did drugs.  Not once in my life.  People say this song is about drugs but it speaks to me today.  I was talking to Martin before he went off to bed and I said “to keep my mind from wandering” and as if on cue he began singing it.

My mind has been all over the place today.  I’m supposed to be working to make up for vacation days I’m taking next week.  But my mind is wandering.

Not sure where this came from.  Maybe the insecure feeling I have anticipating the trip next week for Martin and his girls.  I looked on Facebook and looked through an album from 2009 of him with his girls and wife at Christmas.  I tried to put myself there.  A hurting, broken family, trying to make the best of things on Christmas.  I’ve been there.  That was only a month after I met him. I looked at the picture of his wife and tried to put myself in her place.  It’s not too far of a stretch.  She must have been hurting.

I read a few old posts on my blog  about nasty arguments I had with my ex-husband.  I looked back one year.  Our divorce was not yet final at that point.  It would be two months later.  Then I realized I have been single for almost a full year and yet I’ve never felt less alone since knowing Martin.

I’ve been celebrating the fact that so much time has gone by with Martin.  We marvel at how we know each other better and how we are much closer because of all the trials we have been through.

So far so good with my mind wanderings…But then all of a sudden like a bee that appears out of nowhere and goes straight for your ear there was this sudden distraction in my head.  Or to borrow from Lennon and McCartney a hole where the rain gets in.  This flood of feelings washed into my brain and all I could think about was my ex and this woman he is with and how they have been together now since September 2007 that I know of.  Probably longer.  That is almost four years.  And it hit me.  That sick feeling in my gut reminding me how it felt to be betrayed.  That is a hole that could do some fixing.

Where did that come from? I  know I should expect these revisiting feelings by now.  Martin says we are human and have memories and from time to time tragedies in our lives come up to bite us again and we can’t help feeling the feelings but we shouldn’t let them seethe in us and turn into bitterness.  We can’t help that they come.  He is very right.

I read more posts from last year and I do see lots of growth in me and my kids.  We are happier.  They are dealing with their dad better.  Less angry.

Speaking of angry – Martin got an angry text from his wife the other day.  It said one word and it wasn’t a kind one.  It took me aback.  I have been known to lash out.   For example, I’ve played out the scenario in my head of seeing my ex with the woman who I emailed begging her to stay away from my husband.  Spoke to on the phone, her telling me she would leave him alone.  Then realizing as the months ticked by they had no intention of breaking it off.  Seeing her  in person for the first time which I’ve miraculously avoided up to this point would be a character challenging moment for me.  I get where anger comes from.

I did not break up Martin’s marriage.  But I am this “other woman” all the same.  And sometimes that anger just hits you.  For all the years gone.  I get it.

We can’t help it when our mind wanders this way sometimes.  But how we react to it is telling about our character I guess.

My day of reckoning will come some day.  I will see them together and I will need to refer to the Holy Spirit to guide me supernaturally cause I have a feeling that is the only way I’m going to get through it with my head held high.  I hope it is a long way off.

I know without a shadow of doubt that I am exactly where God wants me.  Even alone most days.

I asked Martin, “How lucky are we that we got it all?  You are the one person I have the most fun with being silly and dorky yet you are also the one who I can be the most serious with.  We love each other and the Lord and we have a very strong physical attraction?  Who gets that all in one person?  How were we so lucky?”  And without missing a beat he said, “Perhaps the trade-off is I’m 6000 miles away.”  There is that.  Haha.  But we can laugh about it.

My entire life I have felt alone.  This song I’m fixated on today talks about people not understanding and being outside a door.  I’ve always felt that as close as I have been to some people there was ALWAYS this one thing that kept us from truly understanding one another.  Sometimes more than one thing.  But I mean everyone I have ever known.  Family, friends, ex-husbands alike.  Where the arrows simply were pointed in too different a direction to ever touch.  But with Martin, they all point at each other.  We are not identical but we get each other.  We understand and we are in each other’s doors standing in the same room and now instead of alone we are together.

How lucky is that?

And as my mind continues to wander the anger I felt a minute ago  is replaced with gratitude, contentment, and peace.  Not because this has been easy, nothing valuable ever comes easy.  But because it is a good place to be.

The Richest Homeless Man I Have Ever Known

You know how they say truth is stranger than fiction?  I’ve been running a lot lately.  19 miles this week.  And during my runs I listen to Pandora which I recommend and love.  But I also think.  I see scenes play out in my head of what Martin and my movie would look like.  Especially the night we met and how many things could have happened to get in the way of our meeting.  It is crazy enough to tell people that you met in a little ‘ol boxty house restaurant in Dublin coming in from the rain and were seated at the same table.  That alone gets people’s interest.  But the purest of love affairs that  resulted from that meeting has been truly remarkable to me. On top of that,  the transformation in Martin’s spirit toward the Lord, His Word, and His church since then…it all just boggles the mind.   Well mine anyway.

In 4 days he will be here with both his daughters who are 20 and 19 years old.  They are up for a good time.  I aim to show them one.  Plus love and warmth and a welcome hopefully the likes they’ve never seen before.  Do I have something to prove?  Yeah well.  No.  I just want to make a good impression is all.

But this story as fanciful as it is; as flawed as it was with Martin asking me to marry him before he was divorced.  Today he held in his hand the letter from the solicitor which agreed to all the terms.  He signed on the dotted line and sent it on in the post the same day. In 6 weeks from the filing date he will be single.  And free to marry.  If he chooses to.  My bets are on him not being single for long.

It costs a lot of money to do what we have done.  To see each other as often as we have over the past year and 7 months.  I have pleaded with him to get a place of his own but he has been adamant that staying at his brother’s and sisters place was good enough and would save him money.  Despite having to speak to me from garage floors holding radiators for warmth.

When it all went down in April about the lies -  he fessed up to his siblings, 17 and 10 years his senior, and he retreated.  Yet he had nowhere to go.  He felt bad, and guilty and like he needed punishment and wanted to be alone.  So he started sleeping in the backseat of his car.  Yes he is nuts.  But it was a genuine response to his wrong doing.

As much as I protested, he implored that he would save money over renting a place, money over a hotel, and that he was “only little” and fit quite nicely in the back seat.  He also said, “I’m a camper at heart; this is fine.”

The first few nights he unwittingly set off his own car alarm  But once he figured that out there was no stopping him.

I was dating the richest homeless man I have ever known.

He has saved a ton of money since and between me and his nephew we have now convinced him to go back to his brothers home where he is tonight and will remain. His penance is thankfully over.

My kids and I have decided that telling my sisters and mom about his living in his car would be counterproductive for obvious reasons.  But he did use the time well.  He read his Bible at night.  He had a great view of sheep and cows and beautiful hills.  He had solace.  He was able to sort out his conflicting and guilty feelings.  I saw a transformation in him.  And despite worrying about him there on a country lane sleeping in his car and washing at his golf club, I was secretly really, really proud of him.

No stuff, no status, no comfort.  He paid for his girls and him to come out on Wednesday because that was the most important thing without dipping into his savings.

Seriously.  And again.  I say to you all.  I’m glad I stuck around.  He is rich in more ways than one.  Hopefully the richest in love.

You can’t make this stuff up.  I get it and my  kids get it.  I’m not sure everybody would.  But it did him good.  I see a new chapter beginning.  Thankfully I will see him again soon.  I love him….so much.

A Hard Days Night

Image by nikoretro via Flickr

A Hard Days Night

350 mile drive
Sales calls
TIRED
Detour to Liverpool to take in the sights.  Why not?
Book Hard Days Night hotel – reportedly good wi-fi
Sing Hard Days Night in head over and over
Skype Livvy – sketchy wi-fi
Smile, smile, smile
Go to dinner – stay out cause Livvy is busy with a big project for work – get dessert
Livvy’s big project get’s postponed she misses you – emails you 5 times
iPhone battery dies you don’t get any of the emails
Skype Livvy “HI!” pick up  emails she sent while at dinner
OOPS
Dropped call
Try Again…dropped call
Try again…dropped call
Skype Livvy “Can you hear…” dropped call
Repeat above pattern 30 thousand times - FRUSTRATED & TIRED
Run down one flight of stairs – call again – no good
Run down one more flight of stairs – call again – no good
Repeat above 2 more times until Lobby is reached
Ask manager of posh hotel what is the deal?  He says some things are blocked. 
GRRR
Walk outside with computer  – still no signal
Now 9:30 PM but determined – still singing Hard Days Night to yourself
Bellman says there is a McDonald’s 5 minutes away and points in a direction
Take laptop with no cord or earphones on a 15 minute walk

Image by drinksmachine via Flickr

TIRED AND TICKED
Miss 3 more emails from Livvy who thinks you’ve gone to bed and is bummed
“Are you not answering emails now either?” She says.
Write Livvy, “I’m heading to McDonalds!!!” Geesh….
Skype Livvy  – “What did you think I would give up?!!”
Livvy says, “You mad at me?” with a big smile on her face
“YES!” but smile wearily
Now 10:00 -  talk to Livvy FINALLY until battery goes
Smile, smile, smile
Email Livvy, “I love you, Night night xxx”
REALLY TIRED NOW
Walk back to hotel in the rain.  Yes for real, no jacket
Still singing A Hard Days Night
“I should be sleeping like a log…but when I get home to you I find the things that you do will make me feel alright…”

New Countdown

Nine more days until Martin arrives here with his 20 and 19-year-old daughters.  I’ve fixed up the guest room, washed the windows, arranged for a car trade so I have enough space to drive them around all in one car, fixed my pool, arranged for a trip to Las Vegas to meet my entire family and even though I’ve done all these things I’m still thinking about it constantly.

Martin and I are in as good a place as we have ever been.  He’s done nothing like he was doing before.  No more disappearing.  No more saying he was too tired to talk or too busy or sick.  No more weirdness.  None.  Could it be that he’s learned his lesson?  Oh Lord?  Could it be?

He’s sleeping well, he’s relaxed and at peace.  He’s telling me stuff about his girls and interacting with them more instead of pushing them away.  He’s kept me in the loop to the point of reading the solicitors letters to me and we are discussing that issue openly.  He is also reading his Bible more than ever and enjoying going to church again.  He’s also golfing and doing things for him which is great.  We are at this point where we can say…”I gotta do this thing…” and the other person doesn’t get wiggy.  We are secure.  There is no reason to wonder why, or read anything into it.  It just is what it is.  And I’m optimistic now that while there will be other hurdles in our relationship that we have finally gotten past the “getting to know you” ones.

I’m not feeling so lonely anymore either.  When he would disappear for days at a time or say we would talk and then tell me at the last-minute that he didn’t feel well…I would get this knot in my stomach.  Now he is keeping his word.  So I’m happy when I’m alone and eating or watching TV knowing he’ll be around eventually.  I’m having fun doing projects around the house and running (4 miles tonight!)  I’m feeling…dare I say….healthy?  On the inside and out.

I’m even starting to get a normal sleep pattern again after years of anxiety at bedtime. And  that is with absolutely zero sleep aids except for the occasional cup of tea.

It will be surreal to have his girls here with us in the house.  I’m so excited because it is the beginning of our shared life together.  It is a chance for us to bond a bit.  At least they will be able to see how Martin and I are together.  They will get to see that I’m not some kook from America that has indoctrinated their dad into a cult.  Martin just tells me to be myself.  So that is what I’m concentrating on.  But honestly I’m super emotional about it.

He continues to bond with my children.  My daughter came home from buying some clothes and gave him a fashion show.  My son emailed him to ask him about some music he heard.  When I have to get up to do something they take my seat in front of the webcam and talk his ear off.  He loves it.

We have the videos that he took on a website so we can watch them and there is this hysterical one of me trying to teach him how to blow a bubble.  I’m sorry but he’s a little on the lame side when it comes to blowing bubbles.  He spit the gum across the room several times.  He and I laughed as my son filmed.  And I sit there now with  tears that just kept coming.  Not cause I’m sad that we aren’t together but because I’m happy that we can be that natural and relaxed together when we are close physically and when he’s a half a world away.

I’m feeling grateful again.  Just wanted to share.  I’m glad I stuck around.

We have our vacations planned out for the rest of the year (assuming he’s not going to get a job in the US which he is still trying to get and actively working toward) but we are more mellow about that too.  He’ll come in June.  Me to England in August.  Him for my birthday in September.  Me to him for our anniversary (2 years) in November and maybe a quick trip over to Dublin so we can eat in that same restaurant where we met.  And then me and the kids with him the day after Christmas and over New Years so we can show my two kids England.

Lots of traveling.  Lots of money.  But so worth it.  Like he said yesterday, “We just fit.”  Perhaps I’ve finally found the perfect shoe for me

 

Roll with the Punches

For some reason being a mom is especially challenging this week.  Or should I say apparently being a teenager in my home is especially challenging.  Who knows why?  But both kids are spontaneously combusting and splattering their angst all over the house.

“You’re being rude.” “No I’m not.”

“You didn’t clean the bathroom.”  “Yes I did.”

“It’s time for bed.” “In a minute.”

“Don’t forget to take the trash out.” “Give me a chance before you criticize me!”

“I said it’s time for bed.” (Silence)

And so it goes.

But when its time for me to jump to the store to get treats for an end of the year party, buy a must-have summer dress, or drop off a work permit across town…its “Mom…let’s go.”  And I jump.

Something is askew.

They have both had their fair share of heartache the last week.  Grades weren’t high enough, friends weren’t nice enough,  girlfriends not accessible enough.   I can tell when they walk in the door if we are going to have a moody or a mellow night.

I told my son that sometimes he just needs to roll with the punches.  In frustration he replied, “Why can’t I just punch back?”  It was an honest question, he really wanted to know.  That statement alone showed me how much he still needs me.  And I said, “What happens when you punch something? Someone ends up getting hurt.”  And looked at him knowingly.  He shook his head as if he understood.  Then I said, “God doesn’t want us to hurt people in our trials because we are hurting.  We have to be better than that.”  He got it.

It is a tough lesson because his gutt instinct is to fight back, fight for, fight against.  Fight, fight, fight.  My pastor often says, “Meek isn’t weak.  It’s the ability to show strength through restraint.”

It was him yesterday, my daughter today.  I keep having to be ready to dodge the right hooks slung at me from flared tempers without getting riled up myself.  I admit I’m about 50% effective. They do know how to push my buttons.

Martin tells me I give them the upper hand when I lose my temper and yell because that opens the door for them to yell back.  He says, I need to calmly take away computer privileges, phones, or tell them they need to ride their bikes to run their errand instead of me getting angry and then everyone saying sorry and it being over with no consequence.  Martin knows it is easier to say than do especially for a highly emotional person such as myself but the man gives good advice.  He’s been a great support to me. He always tells me, “They are great kids and  you are a great mom.  They are teenagers and it will get better.”

I must rise to the occasion with my children as I am having to with my home.  The repairs are getting tackled but it is overwhelming at times.  The pool heater, and filter tank this month.  Expensive.  Plumbing issues next month. Slowly but surely.  I will roll with the punches as I’ve advised my son.  Like him I have to fight against the feeling to punch back.  And boy, how I would love to throw a good one into my ex’s unsuspecting stomach muscles.

It keeps getting back to the fact that I didn’t choose to do this alone.  But never-the-less I am.  And sometimes that really gets to me.  I’m stuck holding the bag so to speak.  Picking up the messy bits he walked away from.

BUT and this is a big but.  I am managing.  And I’m doing it my way.  It is working.

Think about it.  When a boxer “rolls with the punches” he is shifting his weight, stepping to the left, then the right to minimize the impact of the attacks.  He uses his cunning, and his muscles.  The more he does it the stronger he gets, the smarter he gets.  There is benefit.

When my husband first left I was getting knocked down.  PUNCH and I was flat on the floor.  I was grabbing a hold of the ropes trying to drag myself to my feet only to get punched again.  Now I am stronger.  “I float like a butterfly and sting like a bee.”  I CAN roll with the punches because I’ve practiced it.

My kids will get there.  They just need to be cheered on by their trainer like Mickey for Rocky.  I need to tell them like it is…when it’s bad it’s bad and they need to make it better and here’s how.  And when they succeed I will be the first one to jump over the ropes and lift their arm in triumph. I can be that person.

We have small triumphs all the time.  They are the same kids that woke up at 5:30 AM this past weekend to man a garage sale and let their mama sleep.  My son rode his bike to the donut shop to treat us, my daughter put up the signs she painted that said, “QUALITY GARAGE SALE”.  They dealt with every customer exchanging as much money as they could bargain.  Even when I was awake they were in charge.  I was proud of them.  They are good kids.

They just need to learn by practice to roll with the punches in the face of being wronged by others and disappointments.  I’ll show them how.