February 19th is my father's birthday. It is on this day, and the anniversary of his passing in the month of August that I reflect on the dynamics of our father-daughter relationship.
I have spent my life searching for the loving, supportive, and stable man that my father never was. And in my quest for fulfilling love, I've found men that were like my father in so many ways since I've started dating (textbook psychology I'm sure). I found that I was always sacrificing and placing my needs last to secure my partner's approval, to win unconditional love. And then I would quickly move from one failed relationship to another, believing that the "honeymoon" stage with a new boyfriend meant sure success.
My college roommate was working towards her masters in social work. I remember her telling me from time to time that I needed to sort through the pain and anger of a horrible relationship with my father. "This will blow up in your face one day," she warned, "if you don't try counseling to understand your issues."
Interestingly enough, with the father of my children, I did just that. But we were too busy sorting through our mess as a couple, and I never sat down one-on-one with an expert to face the music as a individual that still needed to heal from the disappointment she experienced with the single most important male role model of her life.
I choose to be alone now. It would have been too easy to run into someone else's arms or bed while going through this divorce. I look in the mirror each morning and ask for the strength to learn how to be good to myself and focus on healing the little girl who had an angry alcoholic for a father.
It is terrifying as hell to make this decision. But it is also empowering. I've promised myself to pick up the phone this week and finally schedule some time with a therapist. One day there will be hope for a healthy relationship. In the meantime, I know I have a lot of work ahead of me.
Right before my father passed seven years ago, he wrote a letter to me and my younger sister. We talk about it often. In this letter, he tells us that he is sorry for all that he has done. He promises that when he leaves this world, he will always be watching over us, protecting us, loving us.
I have been searching for someone to fill those shoes. And for the first time in my life, I realize that person needs to be me.
I have a Merit cigarette and a Budweiser every year on February 19th as a tribute to him. Two of his favorite things in the world.
Happy birthday Daddy. I miss you.
Monday, February 18, 2008
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
Cougar or Puma?
I have been approached by men younger than 30 in the past few months. I have had no desire to date. I have not been advertising my single status. I do not walk around with a "MILF" t-shirt on. I am tired all the time. And I'm definitely looking my age with help from this exhausting divorce (regardless of what my mother keeps saying, "you young and purty...Elizabeth Taylor marry lotta men in her life...last husband was younger guy too - you keep trying). I'm not interested in younger men, and I don't hang around venues that cater to this male demographic - I'm running around the park and the grocery store!
I did accompany a friend to a small artshow downtown on a free Saturday night (while the children were with their father ) where my typical plans would have included Ben & Jerry's and American Idol on Tivo.
I met M. by accident. Literally bumped into him walking out of the restroom and making sure my skirt wasn't tucked into the back of my pantyhose. He immediately asked if I was one of the exhibitors. "No, " I replied, "I'm a guest." He asked if I was here with anyone and I pointed to my friend (he's an actor/personal trainer, and NO, I have not gone there). You could tell M. was intimidated by my friend's looks.
He seemed mature. Until I learned that he was a 31 year old investment banker that owned the loft next door. Five years younger. Not too bad. And he was actually very good looking. I gave him my number.
I almost backed out of this "first date" at the last minute. I fielded a call that afternoon from a client/friend right before my call to M. to cancel and blurted out my dilemma to her. "You need to break the seal." she insisted. "Just go."
He picked a Korean barbeque restaurant. Over dinner, he told me he was into Asian women. Business takes him to the Far East often. "You're totally my type" he shared. " I think it's almost an obsession how much I like Asian girls." I thought it would be good to change the subject and talk about his other interests. "I really like to go to the gym." he offered. Oh god. Check please.
I did accompany a friend to a small artshow downtown on a free Saturday night (while the children were with their father ) where my typical plans would have included Ben & Jerry's and American Idol on Tivo.
I met M. by accident. Literally bumped into him walking out of the restroom and making sure my skirt wasn't tucked into the back of my pantyhose. He immediately asked if I was one of the exhibitors. "No, " I replied, "I'm a guest." He asked if I was here with anyone and I pointed to my friend (he's an actor/personal trainer, and NO, I have not gone there). You could tell M. was intimidated by my friend's looks.
He seemed mature. Until I learned that he was a 31 year old investment banker that owned the loft next door. Five years younger. Not too bad. And he was actually very good looking. I gave him my number.
I almost backed out of this "first date" at the last minute. I fielded a call that afternoon from a client/friend right before my call to M. to cancel and blurted out my dilemma to her. "You need to break the seal." she insisted. "Just go."
He picked a Korean barbeque restaurant. Over dinner, he told me he was into Asian women. Business takes him to the Far East often. "You're totally my type" he shared. " I think it's almost an obsession how much I like Asian girls." I thought it would be good to change the subject and talk about his other interests. "I really like to go to the gym." he offered. Oh god. Check please.
I recounted this experience to another mom friend of mine. "You shouldn't write him off so quickly. It would be fun to have just kept this boy around as a sex buddy, but I think that would make you a puma." she laughed.
What the hell is that?
Apparently, it's the definition of a woman under 40 that goes out with younger men. Over 40 and you're a cougar. And I'm still not sure if that's the accurate consensus on the correct meaning.
Give me a break.
For reasons that have nothing to do with my feline status, I am not interested in getting involved with anyone right now, especially a younger man. I already have two small children and I'm in the process of trying to get rid of a big child that throws expensive temper tantrums at me through his lawyers. But these are my personal choices.
I am actually offended that women are even labeled this way. How about pointing to a woman walking around with a younger man and saying, "Good for her. And good for them." Who cares why they are together? There's a very good chance that they might have found the fulfilling companionship that has eluded many of us.
At the very least, she may be getting a hell of a lot more booty than I am. Meow.
Tuesday, February 5, 2008
Children - Love Medicine
My son makes me laugh when I serve them tilapia (a mild white fish) for dinner this week. Drowned in lemon and butter, they are happily digging in, and I high five myself that I am getting some Omega 3 into their bodies in between the nightly Kraft Macaroni and Cheese and hot dog dinners. "I love labia" says my four year old, "it tastes good." I wonder if he's taking English lessons from my Chinese mother when she comes to visit.
My daughter is developing into quite the character herself. Her favorite food is a raspberry/strawberry fruit bar treat, recently discovered from a local organic grocery store. She actually consumed two of these before check out during a recent shopping trip. This morning, she pushed her scrambled eggs and toast with cream cheese away (usual breakfast favorites). "I want a fruit bar mommy." I slide her plate back in front of her. "Fruit bars are for snack honey," I explain," let's eat our breakfast." She's contemplating a temper tantrum. And in the next moment, she cocks her head to the side and raises her eyebrows up and down several times, Groucho Marx style. This is a new trick that made me laugh the night before. "Please mommy? See my eyes?" She wins. I hand her a fruit bar.
I am madly in love with these two children. In those precious moments of connection, I am touched beyond emotional explanation. There's no time to feel sorry for yourself when you are in the middle of wiping noses and tushes. You do not have the luxury of worrying about the lawyer's phone call five minutes ago when your little one climbs into your lap with a book.
In some ways, I think my divorce has helped me to become a better mother. I am learning to slow down and savor the time I have with my babies. I was always racing against the clock as a full time working mom, on and off airplanes, in and out of meetings, and realized that in the midst of a failing relationship, my children had a sleep-deprived, stressed out, unfulfilled person who tended to look at parenting responsibilities as tasks instead of opportunities. I'm not saying I didn't enjoy my time with my children, but now I am learning to really live in the present.
In the morning, on our way to preschool, we now take a different approach. Instead of quickly throwing on jackets and shoes to get out the door, we have extra kisses and hugs as each arm slips into a sleeve or a foot into a shoe. I take a moment to sniff the warmth of the back of their necks or the tops of their heads. Instead of muttering to the children that we are running late, this has become an opportunity for extra physical contact. We may be a few minutes late for yard time or snack time, but who cares? They won't remember what it meant to be prompt at this age, but they will remember how much mommy wants to love them with kisses and hugs before we climb into the car for school.
When they are with their father, I miss them. Terribly. The melancholy of those evenings alone in my home without them still puts me in a lonely place. I think about how they each climb into to bed with me when they are here, and I miss the comfort of holding them. Hearing them breathe peacefully and softly. Two little angels that are safe in my mama bear care.
But when we are apart, I know I can focus on healing and changing. I can pick up a book again. I can take a hike or walk on the beach. Sip a coffee and sit for a while. I can write.
A wise woman recently shared something with me that gives me great comfort (thank you). She said that "...the only thing you can control is your own actions. And I think this is important in relation to our children because often times this is the only life-lesson we have left to teach them: life isn't about what happens to you; it is about how you deal with what happens to you. And that lesson will trump all the other worries and anxieties you have about the effects of divorce and custody battles on their young lives."
There are always challenges in life. How we address them makes all the difference. For my broken spirit, my children are the strongest medicine in the world. They change your whole perspective and outlook on life and how to live it. But most importantly, if you can keep this top of mind, you have a chance to look at the world again through their eyes. It can become a special, magical place - one that is full of new experiences, new lessons, new discoveries, and promise. For your children, and for you.
We used to rush through bed time routines (brush teeth, two books, lights out) so that I could clean the kitchen, pick up the toys, and work late crunching out sales proposals and spreadsheets. Last night, at 36 and in the middle of a divorce, I got down on knee level next to my children in the backyard and we looked up at the moon together in the night sky. They are both in footed pajamas, and I have a blanket wrapped around them. I agreed with them, it was indeed, a beautiful sight. And then we came inside and climbed into mommy's bed, and I told them about the Chinese fable of the beautiful Moon Lady.
My daughter is developing into quite the character herself. Her favorite food is a raspberry/strawberry fruit bar treat, recently discovered from a local organic grocery store. She actually consumed two of these before check out during a recent shopping trip. This morning, she pushed her scrambled eggs and toast with cream cheese away (usual breakfast favorites). "I want a fruit bar mommy." I slide her plate back in front of her. "Fruit bars are for snack honey," I explain," let's eat our breakfast." She's contemplating a temper tantrum. And in the next moment, she cocks her head to the side and raises her eyebrows up and down several times, Groucho Marx style. This is a new trick that made me laugh the night before. "Please mommy? See my eyes?" She wins. I hand her a fruit bar.
I am madly in love with these two children. In those precious moments of connection, I am touched beyond emotional explanation. There's no time to feel sorry for yourself when you are in the middle of wiping noses and tushes. You do not have the luxury of worrying about the lawyer's phone call five minutes ago when your little one climbs into your lap with a book.
In some ways, I think my divorce has helped me to become a better mother. I am learning to slow down and savor the time I have with my babies. I was always racing against the clock as a full time working mom, on and off airplanes, in and out of meetings, and realized that in the midst of a failing relationship, my children had a sleep-deprived, stressed out, unfulfilled person who tended to look at parenting responsibilities as tasks instead of opportunities. I'm not saying I didn't enjoy my time with my children, but now I am learning to really live in the present.
In the morning, on our way to preschool, we now take a different approach. Instead of quickly throwing on jackets and shoes to get out the door, we have extra kisses and hugs as each arm slips into a sleeve or a foot into a shoe. I take a moment to sniff the warmth of the back of their necks or the tops of their heads. Instead of muttering to the children that we are running late, this has become an opportunity for extra physical contact. We may be a few minutes late for yard time or snack time, but who cares? They won't remember what it meant to be prompt at this age, but they will remember how much mommy wants to love them with kisses and hugs before we climb into the car for school.
When they are with their father, I miss them. Terribly. The melancholy of those evenings alone in my home without them still puts me in a lonely place. I think about how they each climb into to bed with me when they are here, and I miss the comfort of holding them. Hearing them breathe peacefully and softly. Two little angels that are safe in my mama bear care.
But when we are apart, I know I can focus on healing and changing. I can pick up a book again. I can take a hike or walk on the beach. Sip a coffee and sit for a while. I can write.
A wise woman recently shared something with me that gives me great comfort (thank you). She said that "...the only thing you can control is your own actions. And I think this is important in relation to our children because often times this is the only life-lesson we have left to teach them: life isn't about what happens to you; it is about how you deal with what happens to you. And that lesson will trump all the other worries and anxieties you have about the effects of divorce and custody battles on their young lives."
There are always challenges in life. How we address them makes all the difference. For my broken spirit, my children are the strongest medicine in the world. They change your whole perspective and outlook on life and how to live it. But most importantly, if you can keep this top of mind, you have a chance to look at the world again through their eyes. It can become a special, magical place - one that is full of new experiences, new lessons, new discoveries, and promise. For your children, and for you.
We used to rush through bed time routines (brush teeth, two books, lights out) so that I could clean the kitchen, pick up the toys, and work late crunching out sales proposals and spreadsheets. Last night, at 36 and in the middle of a divorce, I got down on knee level next to my children in the backyard and we looked up at the moon together in the night sky. They are both in footed pajamas, and I have a blanket wrapped around them. I agreed with them, it was indeed, a beautiful sight. And then we came inside and climbed into mommy's bed, and I told them about the Chinese fable of the beautiful Moon Lady.
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