First, let me start by saying that if you’re not adults, stop reading. This letter is for future-you, because now-you should be outside playing or drawing a picture or something innocent and child-like and awesome.
Over 16? Good. You can keep reading.
This past year has been the craziest one of our lives. I thought that title belonged to the first year I became a mother. But instead it belongs to this, the year that the word mother, for me, was joined by a qualifier – Single.
I’ve watched enough TV to know what single mothers are supposed to be about.
Single moms are supposed to be plucky and struggle financially and tend toward the trashy and never let a man in, and say dammit a lot.
Kids, the problem is, all of that described me a year ago. Before I broke up with your dad.
This year has been brutally hard. There were moments I was pretty sure would end me. When we were all still living in the same house, even after the declaration had been made, and I would look at you, and I would look at your dad, and the tears would stream down my face as I would ask him “How can we really be doing this?”
When you came to me, son, in the early days, seeing your parents’ tear-streaked faces, and your dad waking up on the couch, and you said “Tell me what’s going on here, and don’t lie.” And I told you. And you told me you didn’t want to live with either one of us and that were both jerks. (Which made me kind of happy because I thought that was just about the healthiest damn thing you could have possibly said, and maybe, maybe, you’d make it out of this OK.)
When you, my baby girl, cried silently, waving at your dad as he left to go back to his house, and your little voice whispered “I just miss him so much.” And when you told me, without a hint of manipulation, that you just love him more, right now, that you still love me, you just love him more, and I had to smile and say that was alright, and that you can love who you want, as much as you want, and my stomach threatened to heave with the disappointment of it all.
When I fooled myself into thinking that this divorce was about your dad & I, that we were covering all the bases, and you, Boy Child, were hesitant to invite friends over to your mom’s new place, because, in your words, “My friends don’t all know that I’m divorced.”
When I wasn’t even-tempered, and I wasn’t mad at you, and you got yelled at, and didn’t get the attention you deserved, and needed even more. And you just took it, and didn’t fight back or tell me I wasn’t being fair. Which made me feel unbelievably worse.
Yeah. There were some pretty ugly moments this year.
Oh babies, there was some awesomeness.
Raising you, enjoying you, being with you, without the spectre of a really bad relationship hovering over the whole thing, poisoning it all.
Watching a community not just talk the talk, but truly walk the walk, as nearly everyone we knew stepped up, and buttressed us, and made this year possible. You have some beyond amazing people in your life, kids. Neighbors, a school, a community, friends, that shone all over us when things were wicked dark.
And your dad & I. Hitting our own personal rock-bottoms. And now, almost exactly a year later, being able to surface, look around, and realize we’re both on the way to Happy. And being the parents we wanted to be for you.
I adore you. Thank you just for being.
Oy Ginny. Good stuff though.
it gets better. they’re gonna be fine. and damn, they are awesome… as are you for seeing that awesomeness and knowing what it was.
Oh man, you just made me cry. You have wonderful children and that alone tells me you will be ok because it takes a great person to raise great kids.
What a wonderful mother’s day letter for your adult children to appreciate in a decade and for us to appreciate today.
This hurt, maybe as the former kid of a divorce it just hit to close to home, that first part was like a punch to the solar plexus, pretty much knocked the wind out of me, and that boy of yours is a gem, an absolute fucking gem and in the end he’ll be alright, the girl too, mainly because they have parents who understand and care and love them, believe me it helps… and damn this post makes me think about things, to many things to put down here… a brilliant post though.
Well, I’m a bit teary. I hate the thought of your heart breaking so many times in just a year.
perfect. Just perfect.
wow, ginny. those are lucky kids.
Oof. So glad you’re not doing this alone, and that they’re not either.
Sorry you and your family have been going through this Ginny. Hugs to you and the kids.
Not sure what to say but want to say something. We don’t know each other, but I care.
Dayam. You’re amazing.
That’s all I got, really. I’m speechless.
Sorry I haven’t been around in forever. I’ve been busy, busy, busy. Working on making time for my own blog right now.
We can’t fix the past, but we can work on the future, and that starts with today. I say start working on this crappy societal cycle. No lies, no BS. No baby dolls or knights in shining armor. Teach them about planning and what’s important. Let them know that all stories don’t have happy endings, but than every day is a new beginning and another chance. Get them thinking outside the box, the box that raised kids like us. That box, the TV, is full of lies, BS and poison. Teach them about clean water, fresh air and healthy food. Teach them to care and to do the right thing. Teach them to think for themselves. Critical thinking should start in the cradle, not college. Yeah, I was one of those kids too. If I could go back, knowing what I know now, I’d go back to the age of three and live my life completely different. To hell with that “I wouldn’t change a thing” BS. I’d change it all.
On a lighter note, if you have time, perhaps you could stop by for a quick 10 question survey that only takes a few minutes, is fun/painless, the deadline is 06/04/2011 and will help me with a future post I’m working on; please and thank you. 😉
Take care, Ginny.
Oh lovely lady. I’m late on catching up on your posts and … well like dirdlin said “Not sure what to say but want to say something. We don’t know each other, but I care.” Your readers know you as much as one possibly can through text, and we all care. Had I any toasting drink of merit I would raise it and say, “Here is to hope that these difficulties will bring about an overall greater happiness.” It’s true not every story has a happy ending, but sometimes such endings only lead to new, and better, beginnings.
What a heartrendingly lovely post.
May we all be on the way to Happy.
Wow. I stumbled upon your blog by googling Foo Fighters lyrics, then just kept reading. So glad I did. What an awesome post!
Hi..just joining the party now after a recommendation from “People I want to punch in the throat”….and WOW! Great post…I still have the tears in my eyes from this post. You are awesome and I will be following you from now on!!