Part Two: "I don't love him"

“I think I’m making the biggest mistake of my life.”

She said this as most of her belongings were already en route to her new residence: her fiance’s house. 

She had spent the last three months trying to convince me that she was ready to move in with him. As it turns out, she may have been trying to convince herself.

I’ll admit she had me fooled at times. She picked out the paint and scheduled the painters. She got estimates on new carpet and had it installed. She talked in “we” sentences.

“When we settle into the house, we’ll have you over for dinner.”

“When we get new furniture…”

“When we get a Christmas tree…”

Although she changed her relationship status to “engaged” on Facebook (doing this makes everything official, right? *snicker*), I didn’t announce it to family members. I didn’t even tell her sister.

I had always imagined that the announcement of my daughter’s engagement would be festive, like in the movies, where the announcement itself kicks off a series of celebrations, dinners and impromptu wine drinking.

At the very least, I thought it would result in a series of phone calls, text messages and, yes, Facebook updates. 

The first phone call would go to my mom: “He proposed! He went to Jared!”

None of this happened.

Three months later, the words, “I think I’m making the biggest mistake of my life,” are hanging in the air and my heart immediately sinks to my stomach. Panic is setting in, but I can’t freak out on her now and it's not the time for "I told you so." 

She found the courage to tell me. Now she needs help. She needs her mom. 

I take a deep breath and calmly say,  “Then don’t go. Don’t do it.”

“Mom, it’s too late,” she says, tears are swelling in her eyes.

“No, mija, it’s never too late. Never.”

 “I’ve gone too far to back out now,” she says. “Everything is done. My stuff is probably already there. He’s waiting for me. He’s expecting me.”

Then she said what I had already suspected: “I don’t love him.”

I knew we’d reached a pivotal moment in the conversation. It was now up to me to find the right words.

“Listen to your heart, to your gut, to your intuition. All of these things are telling you not to go. Trust what you’re feeling and listen to what you’re telling me. You just looked me in the eyes and admitted that you don’t love him and that you’re making the biggest mistake of your life. You don’t have to do this. It’s not too late. It’s never too late.”

As I pleaded my case, tears were streaming down her face as she sat there, silently listening.

“Mom, it’s too late,” she said again.

She then gathered the last of her laundry, put the dog in the backseat and left.

To be continued…

Part One: Moving Day

The truck had just backed out of the driveway. It was pulling a trailer which was filled with most of my daughter’s belongings.

It was Monday morning and she was moving out of my house, my nest, to live with her fiancé.

I was holding up OK. I had not allowed even one tear to drop, knowing damn well I was destined to spend the rest of the day sitting in her room crying my mommy heart out.

While she continued packing a few remaining things in her car, I sat in my home office, staring at my Outlook calendar, wondering when I’d see her again.

“Thanksgiving,” I said to myself. “Wait… Is she even coming over or will they spend it with his family. But I don’t even know his family. Does she know his family?”

This line of questioning swirled around and around in my head until she walked in, I assumed to say good-bye.

She had hit me with the news of her engagement just three months prior. She also hit me with this…

“He’s asked me to move in with him.”

Different questions swirled inside my head back then. The most important question being: Was she really ready for this?  

For the past three months, she’s been telling me that, yes, she is ready. She’s ready to make this commitment to him and to this relationship.

So you can imagine my surprise when she sat down in my office and said, “I think I’m making the biggest mistake of my life.”

To be continued…

“Do you like Oprah?”

Hi guys, it’s me. Been a while, I know, but keeping this short…

So I’m sitting in my big chair trying to watch TV, but my daughter’s boyfriend/fiancé/whatever is here waiting for her. It will be a couple of hours before she gets home and we have absolutely nothing to say to each other. Nada. Zip. Zilch.

It’s freakin awkward! If it wasn’t for the dog snoring, you could hear a pin drop.

So I’m watching Oprah's LifeClass, but not comprehending what Oprah is trying to teach me about life because I feel this pressure to break this silence in the room and strike up a conversation with my future son-in-law (OMG, son-in-law! Did I just say that!).  

Me: "Do you like Oprah?"

Him:  "Well, I don't hate her."

That's it. I've run out of things to talk about.

The dog's awake now. I think he senses the tension. He’s sitting in between us as if he’s about to referee an MMA fight.  

An encounter with friends from my past… at Walmart… with no makeup

So there I was in Walmart, looking like shit, feeling like shit. I’d been sick for the last six days. Plus I had a huge rash on the left side of my nose because I ran out of Kleenex and started using toilet paper. Not good, my friends, not good.

But I had to pick up a few things so my little one could have something to put in her lunchbox the next day. I was whipping through the aisles trying to finish my shopping when I saw them.

Friends from my old life… my married life… married friends who were still together, family unit intact.  

Did I mention I looked like shit? Well, let me paint you a picture. I don’t have any makeup on and I’m wearing my hear “au natural,” which means after a blow dry, I did not style it in any way, shape or form. My daughter would later ask, “Man, what happened to your hair?”  

Not even this good...

But I digress…

This couple had started dating shortly after my ex and I met, and we eventually attended each other’s weddings. Later, we’d go out as couples – movies, dancing, meet at other people’s weddings. Our oldest kids’ went to school together. Our youngest kids’ had been in Girl Scouts together.

I hadn’t seen them or talked to them since before the separation. To be honest, I avoided these kinds of friends (couples) like the plague after the separation. I just couldn’t bear it. To see them hand in hand with kids in tow would’ve sent me over the edge. And I wasn’t ready to field the inevitable questions.

“What happened?”

“Are you OK?”

“Who gets the house?”

To help me avoid them, I stopped going to church (there were other reasons), stopped attending Girl Scout meetings and ignored Facebook friend requests from several of the moms.  

As we spotted each other, me at one end of the paper goods aisle (where they keep the Kleenex) and them at the other end, I could see the look in the wife’s eyes. That look said, “Oh, poor thing, there she is, grocery shopping all by her lonesome, now divorced and a single mom.”

OK, so maybe I was reading way too much into it, but there was definitely some pity in her eyes. And it pissed me off!

“You know, right? That’s why you’re looking at me like that. I can see the way you’re looking at me. Why are you looking at me like that?” I say to the wife (with every ounce of paranoia that you are sensing while reading this.)  

She then pulled me into her arms and gave me a huge hug. (OK, I’m not that pissed or paranoid anymore, just somewhat annoyed.  But the hug sure feels nice!)

“We know what? What is it that we know? What is she talking about?” says the husband. He was clueless. We filled him in. He was shocked at two things:

1.       That we had divorced.

2.       That his wife never told him.

She then explained to her husband:

1.       “Of course they’re divorced. She’s too good for him. Everybody knew that.” (They did?)

2.       “I don’t tell you everything."

She explained that she had wanted to call several times, but she just didn’t know what to say. She said she was glad we ran into each other and that she could tell I was in a good place (despite me coughing up a lung on aisle 9).

She also said something very interesting. She said she knew I had tried. She said she saw it in my eyes every time she saw us together and the many times she saw me alone, but she never saw it from him.  

As she’s talking, I start to wonder…   

1.      Why did it take ME so long to figure out what everyone else already knew?

2.      How could she keep a juicy piece of news like this from her husband for over a year? (Damn, girl!)  

We went on with some chit chat, updating each other about our kids, work and what not. As she hugged me good-bye, she promised to keep in touch.

I hope she does…   

Note to self: No more "dirty dancing"… and find a new grocery store

It’s Friday night and I’m alone in the house. I’m sitting in my big chair with the TV off wondering what I’m going to do with myself until my little one comes back on Sunday from visiting her dad. My adult child is out doing whatever young adults do on Friday nights.

I get a text message from a friend who reminds me that she’s invited me to join her and others for drinks. I’d totally forgotten, but I honestly had no intention of joining them. Going “out” is still new to me. Plus you have to shower, do your hair, makeup… Exhausting!

But I’m sitting in the living room talking to myself. Somewhere in that conversation, I convince myself to go. So I join my friends.

Drinks at a restaurant quickly turn into, “Hey, let’s check out that bar across the street where all the young people are hanging out!” It’s a college bar, but the music’s good and the drinks are cheap. I’m old enough to be the mother of most of the kids in this joint, but the more I drink the less I care and now I feel like dancing!

A very cute (and very young) gentleman approaches me, compliments me and asks me to dance. I accept.

First, let me say… My, things sure have changed on the dance floor!

So this is it, folks. This is where I have the first “dirty dance” of my new single life. Of my entire life – period! It was as if he got to second base. I look around the dance floor and realize this is how it is nowadays. (“All the cool kids are doing it!”)  

No, not this kind of "dirty dancing." 

When I return to my friends, the jokes come fast and furious.

Friend #1:“I think you’re engaged.”

Friend #2: “Or pregnant!” 

Friend #3: “At the very least he knows your cup size.”

Fast forward two days…

It’s Sunday night and I’m grocery shopping with the kids. As I reach for a shopping cart, a very cute (and very young) guy pulls out a cart for me and says, “Well, hello…”

It’s him!

The guy from the college bar! The guy I “dirty danced” with last Friday night!

And now I’m with MY kids! At MY grocery store! 

He works at MY grocery store! He collects the shopping carts! 

OH MY FREAKIN GAWD!

“You have got to be kidding me,” I say to myself.

Great, I’m talking to myself again.

“You’re never going out again,” I reply. “And it’s time to find a new grocery store.”

Feeling blessed, grateful and thankful

I’m on an emotional roller coaster. I’ve cried tears of joy. I’ve cried tears of pain. And at times, well, I’ve just cried.

My attorney called today. The judge came back with a decision after a week of deliberating in regards to the custody of my youngest daughter. He ruled in my favor. The judge also ordered to dissolve the marriage, which means I’m officially divorced.

I wasn’t expecting the latter piece of news. I was expecting another court date, another court hearing in which my ex and I would face each other one last time. But there are no assets to split. Aside from the few pieces of furniture I kept, I lost everything, including two homes, in the bankruptcy.

The words “you are officially divorced” took me by surprise. It’s what I’ve been working towards for over a year, but I wasn’t expecting today to be the day.

I envisioned circling the date on a calendar, preparing myself for another court appearance and preparing myself for the day that I would sign some sort of divorce decree. I wasn’t prepared to hear that it had already been done, my presence not needed.

I’m not complaining. I’m just processing. I’m also accepting -- accepting that this chapter of my life is now closed.

As one dear friend put it, today was “bittersweet.” And she’s right. I fought for my daughter and for her best interests, and I won. Still, it’s sad.

I made time in the afternoon to talk with my girls, separately, about the news.

My oldest didn’t have much time, she was in a rush to get to school, but I quickly filled her in. Later that afternoon, and for the first time since Christmas, she sent me a text message that simply said “I love you.”

When it came to telling my youngest, I got nervous. I wasn’t sure how she would react, but I had mentally prepared myself for the worst.

“Your dad and I are no longer married… We are now divorced,” I explained.

She looked up, as if she were in deep thought, digging for the right words to say. 

“I’m OK with it.”

I was stunned. I was amazed. I was relieved!

She went on to tell me that she wants to join the Choir group at school and that I needed to fill out the permission slip. Someone get me a pen!

We then went on with the rest of our evening.

For dinner, I made shredded beef tacos.  My oldest daughter and her best friend (aka my “adopted son”) devoured them.  

We ended the night explaining to the little one that Journey came before Glee and not the other way around which led to a jam session on Rock Band.

They’re still upstairs, singing (if you can call it that) and jamming out to “Don’t Stop Believin’.” 

In the meantime, I’m downstairs, sitting in my big chair, feeling blessed... feeling grateful... and feeling thankful.

Will my nest be half empty soon?

The contractions started just after midnight. I was already three weeks late so I’d been eager to just “have this baby already!” But the pain was unlike anything I’d ever felt. Then a wave of panic hit me like a brick. Suddenly, it became harder and harder to breathe. I guess this is what they teach you in Lamaze. Too bad I blew off the class…

Last week, my baby, now in her early 20s, made it hard for me to breathe yet again. There were no contractions, just an aching mommy heart.

She says she’s in love and is somewhat engaged. I say "somewhat in engaged” because she and her boyfriend do not believe in marriage (don’t blame them) and neither want kids (whew!), but he gave her a ring. She said something about the ring representing his commitment, but I have to admit I got a little light-headed at this point. But nothing could have prepared me for what she said next…

"He’s asked me to move in with him."

I can’t breathe! The room is spinning, my heart is pounding and I can’t breathe!

I can’t let her know that I’m freaking out inside. I can’t ask her to bring me a paper bag while I hyperventilate. I can’t crawl under my desk, cover my ears, chant, "La la la la la la," and pretend like this conversation never happened.

I played it cool. Thanks to my boy Deepak and the meditation I've been doing over the last several months, I was able to get my breathing in check and remain calm. Fast forward 24 hours and I'm freaking the hell out. I can't focus. I can’t breathe. My heart is pounding. 

I want to call my mom, aunts, cousins, sisters-in-law, friends, mailman -- anyone who will listen, really -- and freak out all over them with this news. But I don't. I don't because this is a sacred conversation that took place between a mother and her daughter. And daughter hasn't made a decision. And mother is still freaking out.

*Disclaimer: Daughter has since talked to my mom about this which lessens the sacredness and allows me the clear conscience to write about this now.

I wanted to scream, "Don't do it! Don't go! Don't leave me!" but that would only send her packing. Instead, I listened. I asked questions. I presented her with various "living together" scenarios. I gave her a lot to think about.  

Is she ready to handle a household? Can she cook? Can she clean? Rephrasing… Is she willing to clean? Rephrasing again… Is she willing to clean up after him? 

Is she ready and willing to answer to another person? Can she compromise?

Those of us who have been around the block know that moving in together ain’t all fun and games. Eventually, the romance and newness wear off just like a new toy.

A funny moment (hilarious, actually) in all of this came when she asked if I would continue to pay her car note and insurance if she moved in with him. Excuse me while I compose myself…  Bahahahahaha!

I explained that moving in with him means "her bills” become “his bills” or "their bills.”

Speaking of bills, I asked if he was willing to pay her bills until she finished school. And who would pay what once she got a job?

Who pays the rent? Who pays the electricity? Who pays for groceries? Who GOES to the store to GET the groceries?

Of my two kids, she’s witnessed and endured the most during the tumultuous years of my marriage. If you ask me (and her), she’s still messed up over it. Do I want to keep her from true love? Absolutely not! But she still has a lot of healing to do…

We’ve been in our new life for just over a year, and I feel like I just got her back. My baby, my first born… ready or not, she may be leaving my nest soon.

I can’t breathe… 

My baby...