Pancakes Taste Like Poverty: And Other Post-Divorce Revelations (6 page)

On one hand, I crave human interaction. I miss
having people over for dinner. I miss hugs. I miss flirtatious
glances. I miss sexual tension. I miss wearing heels and thinking I’m
attractive.

On the other hand, there is a constant panic
alarm going off.

Men are dangerous! You are all your kids have!
Stay away from men! Men will hurt you! Men will try to take you away
from your children! You don’t need the distractions! Men will
suck the life out of you!

Again, intellectually I know this is not true.

One
man sucked the life out of me. And I
wasn't very “awake” yet so I let it happen.

But I feel like I don’t have the time to
take a chance on anyone else. My walls are up. Way way up. My fat is
a wall. The chunkier I am, the less attractive I am. The less
attractive I am, the less likely I am to attract an emotionally
manipulative person. Or murderous sociopath person. Or child molester
person. Or any person.

I never considered myself an extremist
before
but I am noticing a pattern. I want all the attention, all the men,
all the time. Or I want none.

Don’t. Even. Look. At. Me.

But I’m a little lonely and isolated. And I
need support – really, really bad.

I’m not sure where to go with this or how
long it will last. But identifying the problem is the first step,
right?

Thankfully, I am going to Mobile soon and my
friend, Chris, has become my therapist since I am sure no one on
Earth knows me as well as he does. I mean that. Maybe he can help me
sort this out.

And Now This
Shit
My
nine
year
old had a panic attack.
We were at a birthday party at Chuck
E Cheese. She's always been painfully, painfully shy and extremely
attached to me. At her first day of daycare, when I was pregnant with
her baby sister, she stood at the door for the entire day waiting for
me to come back. She didn't eat. She didn't go to the bathroom.
At
her brother's fifth birthday party, she locked herself in a tiny
closet and refused to come out. My best friend, Chris, sat outside
the closet and talked to her through the door.

In school she always gets marks for being “good”
but even she confessed to me that “teachers only say that
because I don't speak.”
She's been in and out of the
emergency room with asthma for as long as she's been alive despite my
extended breastfeeding and her completely organic toddlerdom. She wet
the bed until we moved into the apartment. I always knew she was a
tense kid. But for a child to have a panic attack at
nine..
.
We
were enjoying one of her cousins' birthdays and when I looked over at
her her eyes were huge and glassy. She couldn't breathe and couldn't
speak. She eventually squeezed out that she didn't like Chuck E
Cheese and we left early.
What is happening?
I can't wait
for this trip home. I know the kids will enjoy being near my family
and I need a break.
I will find us some counseling when we get
back. No
nine
year old should feel
stressed out enough to have a panic attack.

Playing House
My
mom was worried I was going to crack.
“I can hear it in
your voice!” she'd say.
I
was
going to crack. I was
fantasizing jumping off the balcony of my apartment. But then I
remembered that it wasn't high enough to kill me, and I'd probably
just break my ankle and I don't have health insurance.
So she
offered to pay for my gas so I could drive up to Mobile. I
coordinated it with Chris's visit to Mobile so we could spend time
together. Mom took the kids full time. I left them with her and moved
into Chris's house for the week.
It was idyllic.
He was
working from home during the day and I slept in.
By
eleven
or so he'd bring me coffee. I'd curl up on the couch and he in a
chair and we'd talk about what we wanted to do that day.
One day
we rented the Final Destination movies and watched all of them in
order while eating junk food. We then ended up at a dive bar and
chatted with the bartender and a random patron about horror films
into the wee hours.
Another day we attempted to make homemade
pumpkin gnocchi with sage brown butter. They were hard and chewy but
we ate them appreciatively. We had toasted pound cake and raspberries
for dessert.
Another day we lounged in and around the pool for
nearly twelve hours. We napped on floaties. We chatted for hours and
some hours we didn't talk at all.
Chris and I met on the
playground when I was in 4
^th
grade and he in 3
^rd
.
We had no real reason to hit it off, but we did. Our friendship was
socially precarious for us from the beginning. The politics of the
strange bubble that surrounded our predominately white and wealthy
private school were complex. Many kids were raised by black maids who
were “like family” but the first likely suspect if little
Mary Katherine's pearl necklace went missing. He, with his wealthy
family and his membership to the Country Club and his blond hair and
blue eyes just wasn't supposed to be friends with me. But he was an
outsider, too – a closeted gay kid in the upper class in the
Bible belt. We wore our masks during the day and clung to each other
at night.
We've been friends through some “serious nasty”
and our friendship has barely waned. And here we are now. Two grown
ass adults still finding solace in each other. My days with him were
refreshing. I felt completely relaxed for the first time in months or
maybe even a year. And the kids and my mom enjoyed each other.
I
also reconnected with a friend from my childhood named Trey. Our moms
were both single mom nurses who traveled for work on the weekends.
They threw the two of us together in one of our houses, I guess
thinking a 9 year old plus a 9 year old equals an 18 year old.
I'm
kidding. They didn't leave us alone for whole weekends at
that
age. But we were often left under the care of another single mom
nurse's son who was in his late teens until he was old enough to be
bothered by us. I thought I was going to marry him when I grew up. He
got in with the wrong crowd and was killed before I could...
But
Trey and I bonded easily and quickly, watching
Bill and Ted's
Excellent Adventure
on a loop and spending hours on the phone.
But we lost touch with each other over the years.
Sidebar: You
know how when you are living your life, you subconsciously assume
everyone else exists in some suspended reality? In your mind, they
look the way they looked the last time you saw them and their lives
are as carefree as they were when you were all seventeen.

I went home to Mobile and sought him out hoping
that a few days of lighthearted drinking and shit-talking would salve
my wounded, post-divorce soul and puny self-esteem.

I was a little bit wrong. We are adults now. And
we have big, adult problems. Our parents are aging. We have horrible
exes and horrible custody issues and baby mama drama. Our kids are
being attacked and bullied at school. We can't pay our bills. Nothing
is lighthearted.
Apparently, while I was away ruining my life
and having kids, Trey was doing the same. He was now divorced with
three sons and had a highly toxic dynamic with his ex. She called and
texted several times during our short date. What started as a
victorious night of freedom and bonding turned into the two of us,
heads hanging, huddled in the corner of a bar catching each other up
on our terrible marriages, fighting tears and holding each other
tight.

My own issues have left me so full of holes it's
a wonder I can stand, let alone allow three little souls to lean upon
me. And as it turns out, people I love are as shaky as I am.

And ironically, therein lies the peace.

When
everyone
is hurting, everyone is
open, everyone has room for a little more. ..because we have all been
much worse and can keep our perspectives. There is no need for
falsehoods or phoniness. We can look each other in the eye and say,
"Things suck and I don't know how I get through each day,"
and we know we are safe to do so. Our vulnerability bonds us.

That's quite priceless.

I'm not looking forward to going back to Tampa

An Unnamed Rage
Post
So
anyways, it was my passionate goal to home educate 2/3 of my children
this year. At the beginning of the summer, it seemed completely
feasible. It is something I have always wanted to do but, being a
single parent I doubted that it was possible. However, after talking
it over with the ex, it seemed like it was something we could do if
we joined forces.

My
ex actually planted the seed since he had met a crunchy, granola
woman who homeschooled. Her child is self-assured, sociable and
well-adjusted. He seemed eager to support my endeavors.

Being a single mom, on only my income (because it
takes
ages
for Child Support Enforcement to actually
"enforce") his occasional contributions, I needed steady
childcare commitment from him so I could still get to work so I could
do crazy things like, y'know, keep the lights on. He agreed to show
up for me and the kids but this proved to be too complicated and I
was forced to re-evaluate my plans for my children.

We decided on only homeschooling the oldest for
now, to see how it goes and decided to send my two little kids to the
closest public school - a school they had been in before. But alas,
since moving into my own apartment - a mile away from where I was
previously living - I somehow plopped myself in a new school district
and our new public school assignment was for a school a good 30
minutes away. I could spend an hour driving them to school every
morning, or put them on a bus and hope my 6 year old could protect my
5 year old from 11 year olds.

Fat chance.

*don't bother giving me your story about how
“rode the bus and turned out fine." Kids are different.
Schools are different and childless people are oblivious to this fact
for the most part - save it.

Add to that the fact that I had just spent $250
on clothes only to find out that our new assigned school is a
uniforms-only school. This is terrible.

So, I went with my tail between my legs to the
charter school we just left and begged for our spot back.

OK, it wasn't really that dramatic but I had
friendshipped up with one of these loudmouth, whistle-blowing, drama
loving, soccer mom types last year and I fear her reputation for
disruption made me guilty by association. I think the principal
thought me to be a troublemaker. But really, I only picked the
school because I already had a bunch of uniforms kickin' around the
house.

So anyway, all of this driving and school finding
and school shopping happened in the first 48 hours after arriving
home from Mobile. In and out of a minivan, me and three kids,
constantly. And just as I'd settled the school drama with the two
babies, and had bought a really awesome curriculum for the oldest,
the ex comes to me and says he is unable to watch the kids ...at all.
He then suggests I send the oldest back to school also.

I say, "Okay, but all my money is gone, can
you pay for more uniforms?"

"No."

Let me point out, this is the day before he is
going on his 5th or 6th week-long yoga retreat.

Yeah my blood pressure spiked, too.

Let me also point out that he has given me a
whopping $40 of child support this month for our three children.

Let that sink in.

So basically, in May I was set to home educate
two of my kids - something I am scary she-wolf passionate about. I
began freelancing articles about homeschooling. I become the "Tampa
Homeschooling Expert" on local news websites. By August, all of
my plans are shattered because one person just...won't step up.

And when I pointed this out he snarled at me
"Well YOU'RE the one who wants all this
money
, I have to
go
work
!"

Right, because I am buying mink coats with his
whopping $40 worth of child support...

Gobsmacked.

I never, EVER thought he'd be this kind of
ex-husband.

I am so hurt, angry, irritated, defeated, bitter,
ashamed...

The next day I talked to Jaya about our plans.
She said she was cool with going back to school.

Then later that day she said "actually....I
am really pissed. I really wanted to home school I am trying to be
nice about it but, seriously, I am pissed."

"Fair enough, Jaya. I am pissed, too,"
I said. "Let's just do it anyway. Let's just figure it out and
make it work and just do it."

I took her to work that afternoon. My boss is
super flexible. She asked what my schedule was and with "I can't
watch the kids" as my last interaction with my ex-husband and I
told her I had no idea. She said, "well just bring Jaya to work
with you, she's sweet and very quiet."

AHA!

I mentally flip my horrible marriage the bird!

You. Cannot. Control. My. Life. Any. More.

I. Will. Do. What. The. Hell. I. Want. To. Do.

Period.

Jaya and I officially started today. We did math,
reading, creative writing and history. While discussing cave
drawings, Jaya became nervous and agitated.

"I'm not grading you right now, Jaya. Just
tell me what you
think
about these cave drawings..."

"WOW!” she said, “I keep
thinking I'm in school and feeling, like, judged. Why do they do
that? Why do they praise one kid right in front of you, making you
feel so...wrong?"

"Teaching is a hard job. It's complicated.
Teachers can't be all things perfectly for all students. But anyways,
that's not what we're doing here yet. We are just discussing and
learning and guessing and proving and all that kinda stuff for now."