Category Archives: Uncategorized

July 13, 2011 · 10:42 am

Are We There Yet?

It’s that time again—summer vacation. But this year you’re a single parent and those days of family road trips to the beach or the mountains seem to be just ancient memories. The thought of packing up the car (or dealing with the horrors of air travel), keeping the kids from killing each other, negotiating the long route—then unpacking, preparing every meal or restaurant outing, not to mention the entire return trip back home—is not your idea of a vacation. It can be hard to admit, but it was a lot easier when you had your husband or wife there to help out.

So how to manage the great American single-parent vacation?

First, don’t set yourself up for misery. The first trip I took as a single parent involved an 8-hour drive, followed by a 2-hour rough ferry crossing where my daughters (ages 4 and 6) and I spent the entire boat trip stumbling to the restroom with our hands clasped over our mouths. Afterwards on the beach, I proceeded to chew on hundreds of pieces of licorice nibs to relieve the stress of watching my girls plunge head-first into humungous waves specifically made to drown small children. Did I mention misery?

Second, budget wisely. Being divorced usually means having only half the funds for summer fun. Did I really need to travel to an expensive area with high-end restaurants? Usually there’s no reason to max out the credit card—young children don’t know the difference between a simple cabin on a lake and a five-star hotel on the ocean. They’re going to have a blast no matter what.

Third, take advantage of your family and friends. You can’t possibly enjoy yourself if you’re the one doing all the grunt work. Fortunately I learned from my mistake year one and visited family the following summer. What a difference—8 hours of sleep every night, one dinner out of 7 to prepare and I even squeezed in a daily run. My girls spent 12 blissful hours each day with their cousins. Nothing beats that.

Once older, the kids should be required to help you out. Cooking, doing dishes, reading directions… and, if you’re exceptionally lucky, not fighting. Another advantage of  older offspring is being able to experience a cool trip together. When my daughters turned 10 and 12 I told them they had a choice between 2 places for our dream vacation (for which I had been saving up for 5 years): Disney World or backpacking through Costa Rica. I was thrilled—thrilled!—when they immediately responded, “Mom, duh…Costa Rica.” Yes! Nothing I hate more than waiting in line in the hot sun for the Pirates of the Caribbean ride when I could be waiting in line in the hot sun for a local bus that winds up steep mountains into an authentic rain forest. ¡Pura Vida!

So, here’s to a fine summer vacation that will provide you and your children with many wonderful new memories. Bon voyage and many happy returns.

—The Fine Divorcée

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July 5, 2011 · 11:09 am

Home Improvement

Children get the short end of the stick in a divorce or separation. Not only do they have to live through the stress of the break-up, they then have to suffer the consequences by traipsing from one parent’s house to the other, lugging their small suitcase behind them, a favorite stuffed animal under an arm. How sad is that?

Why, exactly, are the children dragging their stuff across town? Shouldn’t it be the other way around? Who caused this mess anyway?

Ahem…people…may I have your attention? Here’s a rather avant-garde idea. Why not keep the kids in one house (preferably the same one they’ve been living in) and we parents do the traditional lugging of the suitcases? OK, OK, I hear a small uproar. How can a divorcing couple pay for three houses? No, people, not three (unless you’re part of that lucky, richest 1% of the population)—two houses: one for the kids, one for the adults.

OK, yes, I hear more grumbling from the peanut gallery. But my privacy! My life!  I realize this is an impossible situation for some of you. If you’re unable to stay out each other’s private lives, it could prove to be a real problem for jealous types. Otherwise, you’re already going to have to rent or buy another place anyway, so why not at least consider the possibility?

Here’s the thing: Mr. X and I went this route and never regretted it for an instant. We bought an inexpensive condo nearby, furnishing it in the Ikea-esque style. We considered it a wise investment for our bank accounts and more importantly for our children. A two-bedroom is probably the best-case scenario, but we could only afford a one-bedroom—so we set some strict rules:

  1.  When “checking out”, always leave the condo clean. No dirty dishes or old, fuzzy food in the fridge. No crumbs on the counter. No hairs in the bathroom (or anywhere for that matter). No dust mice hanging out in the corners. And no dirty laundry.
  2. The bed is to be remade with clean sheets and pillowcases. This is especially important if guests have stayed over. In fact, it should be perfectly clear that no one has stayed over, even if someone has.
  3. Whoever uses the last staple (pasta, milk, coffee, detergent) has to replace it before checking out.
  4. Above rules also apply to the house.

We weren’t sure how long this living arrangement would last, but at least  we knew it would give the girls a nice interim in order to get used to our separation. In the end, we lived 3 1/2 years this way. Yes, sometimes it could be a hassle (ugh, I forgot my cell phone charger again?!) But mostly it was a pretty perfect situation, even if we both had our mea culpa moments (generally dust mice on his part and sour milk left in the fridge on mine).

By the time Mr. X decided he had had enough of the back-and-forth (I myself could have continued for another 3 years), our anger toward each other had dissipated, we had resolved any legalities and were properly divorced. We sold the condo for a small profit, he purchased a large, sunny condo near the girls’ school and I bought his half of the house. Fait accompli.

Our daughters, at this point now 9 and 6 1/2, did have their say: “Wow, cool! We get to live in an apartment and in our house!” The fact that they were able to pick out a kitten for the apartment to match the house cat wasn’t a bad move either—live felines are not so accommodating to weekly changes of venue.

Where is my fine cat anyway?

—The Fine Divorcée

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June 29, 2011 · 11:19 am

The Parent Trap

Some people tell their parents they’re getting a divorce or a separation and are greeted with sympathy and support. Oh honey, are you OK? Tell us what you need. Others are not so lucky. What?! How can you destroy your family like that? Marriage is forever! I was part of the latter group.

As I state in my post, Thou Shalt Not Divorce, I come from a very religious family. Divorce was just not accepted. You stuck it out, for better or worse. The tiny percentage who did divorce was not disowned (that would be un-Christian-like), but every time their name came up, the D word somehow entered the equation: “Aunt Middie is going to be joining us for dinner. You know, she’s Divorced.” Needless to say, my own separation announcement didn’t exactly make for a Kodak moment. To put it mildly, my parents were extremely disappointed in me. I now list it as one of the 10 most stressful experiences of my life—right up there with renovating the master bathroom (neither of which I plan to attempt again).

Afterwards I tried to ignore their negativity and went about the business of being a good mom and a good ex-wife. But every phone call, every conversation was heavy with parental disappointment. I felt trapped. If I didn’t grab control of the situation, their attitude would bog down my life, and I figured I did not deserve that—not after all the effort Mr. X and I had put into trying to save our marriage and into making our separation as painless as possible. I made a rash middle-of-the-night decision, called my therapist, Dr. P, and set up a couple of sessions with my parents during their annual summer visit. I told my parents what I had scheduled and that I hoped they would concur. They were obviously taken aback, but after some hesitation, they both agreed to the sessions. It was a very loving gesture on their part.

The therapy sessions were excruciating—and that’s putting it mildly. Making your mom cry eight times in three hours is not on the top of anyone’s list (unless you’re a teenager.) Dr. P was direct and sympathetic. She helped them realize that I was not doing a bad thing, that I was not throwing away a good marriage, that Mr. X and I had achieved a practically perfect arrangement. I was able to bring up subjects that had been itching at my soul for decades. We worked through the barriers and came out—well, not exactly all hugs and kisses—but in a better place, with a better understanding of each other.

It’s now seven years later and I’m no longer the black sheep. My parents see that their granddaughters are happy and thriving. They know I do not wish to marry again and are wise enough not to bring it up. They accept and even like my atheist partner, Monsieur Z—practically a miracle, considering that in the 80s my mom made it clear that my living in New York City did not give me much chance to meet, much less marry, a good German Lutheran. Life can provide some difficult twists sometimes. I’ve learned that the important thing is to reach up as high as possible and plant a bright red cherry on top of that twist. Yum.

A raspberry sorbet sundae with a dark chocolate coulis sounds very fine right about now.

—The Fine Divorcée

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June 20, 2011 · 4:43 pm

50/50

When creating a baby, it takes one sperm to one egg, full equality between the partners. Granted, the mother has to carry the baby for nine months, but the father has to deal with her crazy hormones and provide her with ice cream and Snickers bars at odd hours of the night. A pretty even call, I’d say. So why do so many custody arrangements in the U.S. give the father so little time with his children? Why isn’t the norm 50/50?

This is a perplexing question. I’ve heard stories of mothers demanding no less than 80% custody, which I assume is because they’re unable to relinquish control over their kids. Three years of legal battles and six-figure lawyers’ fees later, the father typically gets one night per week and every other weekend with the children he loves. Sorry, but I think that sucks. Kids need their dads equally as much as their moms. And fathers need to experience the ins and outs and joys of child-raising. Moms, if you love your children so much, let them go to Dad’s.

I live in Quebec, a rather feminist society. When my children were in daycare, I never failed to notice that more dads than moms were dropping off and picking up. I know of no custody arrangement in Quebec that isn’t 50/50. Fathers fully share in their offspring’s development, school decisions, homework and doctor’s appointments. Mr. X and I never even considered the alternative. And you know what? If we had stayed together I guarantee my girls would have grown up seeing their father a lot less. He would have succumbed to the rat race, staying late at the office and missing out on their lives. But because of our divorce, his children are number one and my girls are happier because of it.

Another positive aspect of this arrangement is that I get to be 100% Mom when my girls are with me, and 100% Free Woman when they’re not. I adore being a mom. I enjoy my quality time with them fully. When they leave (which is always happily as teens generally cannot stand one parent or the other after 48 hours), I can work late, go to the spa, shop, hang out with my girlfriends, go on dates with Monsieur Z, travel. My life is the perfect combination of fun and family. Happy parent = happy children.

Here’s a small suggestion for those of you in the process of making this decision. If your children are young, a week can seem an eternity. Mom, take them Mondays and Tuesdays; Dad, you get Wednesdays and Thursdays, and both of you alternate weekends. Once they’ve reached the age of seven or eight, make the move to one week on/one week off. I find this arrangement benefits school-age kids, because it’s harder to follow through on homework and projects when they’re changing houses every couple of days.

I believe the younger generations of American fathers are much more involved than the over-40 crowd has been, so I think custody arrangements will change for the better. Until that time, we moms need to let Dad take the kids to the dentist. Believe me, he’ll soon be giving us pointers on how to get the kids to floss!

Now I believe is a fine time to plan a weekend getaway, sans enfants.

—The Fine Divorcée

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June 13, 2011 · 5:06 pm

Don’t sweat the small stuff

There are certain aspects of life we have no control over: the weather, air travel…and the ex. This is why we’re divorced—no partner to control us, and likewise no partner to control. And that’s fine if you have no offspring to raise. But for those of us who do have kids, once they head out the door to the ex’s, we relinquish all control. God only knows what may lie ahead.

I’m in such a predicament at the moment. Two weeks ago Mr. X and I had a thoughtful, respectful, yet strict conversation with our own offspring. The subject? No sitting in front of computers or TVs this summer or on school weekends. Outside activity is on the agenda and it’s non-negotiable. After some grumbling from the kids, we did actually negotiate a plan with them involving various sports, parks and healthy eating. Woohoo! Mission accomplished! Except…

We started out well. That’s because we started chez moi, where my health-nut lifestyle makes it easier for the children to stick to the rules. Last Thursday I sent Mr. X a reminder email about food and outdoor fun before the girls headed to his place. And guess what? Today I find out there was no outdoor fun of any kind all weekend, and questionable, frozen food dishes seemed to be on the menu. Arrrrrrghhh! All my hard work and careful meal planning out the window.

OK, deep breath. This is a perfect example of what entails Small Stuff. It’s not so important in the long run because the kids will be doing the right thing when they’re with me, which is 50% of the time. Big Stuff? Skipping class or hanging with drug addicts comes to mind. Of course their dad would never allow that. So am I going to give him a piece of my mind anyway? I’m very tempted, but will withhold my anger and just remind their absent-minded father about the agreement we made with the girls.

Your ex is probably weaker in some areas and more capable than you are in others. The solution is to fill in each others’ blanks. Mr. X is a math whiz, so thankfully it’s not up to me to decipher my 8th grader’s funky algebra equations before trying to explain it to her—wrongly. That’s what co-parenting is all about—sharing the joy and the pain. So don’t sweat the small stuff, because with kids there’s always plenty of Big Stuff to go around.

Now get outside and play. A fine dinner will be served at seven.

—The Fine Divorcée

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June 7, 2011 · 10:35 am

For the sake of the kids

I don’t agree with those who say that divorce is horrible for children and to avoid it at all costs. Those couples who stay together and hate each other—”for the sake of the kids”? No way that can be beneficial for the offspring. Children are much more aware and resilient than we give them credit for. The under-18 population has been overcoming horrendous odds long before we ever entered this earth: death, war, plagues, famine. Divorce is almost a walk through the park compared to these.

I say “almost” because we divorced or divorcing parents are often not keeping them from very negative repercussions. Telling the kids that Mom is insane is not helping them. Screaming at your ex over the phone because he’s late picking them up for the weekend is not beneficial. The children absorb these rants as partly or entirely their own fault. And asking them to take sides is, in my opinion, the lowest of the low. What is the point, really, except to make the kids feel even worse than they already do?

Mr. X and I discussed staying together for our girls’ sake, but came to the realization that since they were both so young (2 1/2 and 5 years at the time), they would never know the difference. An unhappy parent an unhappy child makes. Our girls are now 12 and 14 and are extremely content, well-adjusted teenagers (an oxymoron, I know). We always make sure they know how much we love them; we never speak poorly of the other parent in front of them. It helps tremendously that they were so young when we separated, but even if your kids are older, if you pay attention and support and love them as co-parents, they’ll be fine.

I’ll end this entry with a quote from my girls: “We love living with you one week and Daddy one week. The thought of being with one of you guys all the time? No way! It would drive us crazy!” I take that as a compliment.

Now is a fine time to pull out a photo of your little munchkins, smile at the thought of their messy bedrooms and send lots of love their way.

—The Fine Divorcée

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May 31, 2011 · 3:55 pm

Thou shalt not divorce

They say to never discuss religion or politics at a dinner party. I agree, so thank God, Allah, Yahweh and Buddha for blogs.

If you’re feeling extreme religious guilt over the moral connotations of divorce, then this entry is for you. (If you’re agnostic or atheist and ending your marriage, feel free to replace the word “God” with “morality”.)

Let me say first that I come from a very religious family background—about as religious as one can get. Fortunately, guilt wasn’t a big part of my own denomination, but it was still able to sneak in through the back door via my parents. Parental and religious guilt combined is a double whammy. So being a bit on the receiving end of both, I wrote a close relative, who happens to be a renown professor emeritus of religious history at a prestigious university. I asked him about marriage and religion. His response: “Marriage is a civil state, recognized by government and the law. The clergy only gives its blessing.”

Hmmm. Somehow I doubt the government cares about guilt. Or maybe in a way it does, with all those tax breaks for the married. But my feeling is that God does not want us to suffer and that He or She would most certainly not want us to stay in an abusive marriage. I’m pretty sure God is OK with divorce, as long as we’re not hurting others intentionally. Methuselah and his 969 years aside, it’s only been in the last 70 or so years that we’ve been expected to live long enough to have time to even think about leaving our husband or wife.

We all make mistakes and sometimes the mistake we made was just marrying the wrong person. The point is not to guilt ourselves into depression, but to take the initiative to do your divorce right. Don’t be petty or cruel or insensitive. Be empathetic, be flexible, be understanding. And, as always, keep the children out of the turmoil. If you do this, then there’s no reason to feel guilty. After seven years, I’m perfectly content to let my parents do that for me.

Now, why not take a deep breath, let it out slowly and do a little meditation on forgiving yourself? It’s a fine way to live.

—The Fine Divorcée

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May 27, 2011 · 11:53 am

Oh solo mio!

So many of us are afraid to leave a bad relationship for one main reason: we’re unaccustomed to being alone. Who will go out to eat with us? Who will watch the new season of Mad Men with us? Who will listen to us when we’re feeling low? It’s a bit scary, this being alone. But “alone” does not need to mean “lonely”. It just takes some practice getting used to hanging with our new BFFs: Me, Myself and I.

To set the record straight, Facebook is not to be included as a new BFF. Sitting in a room, staring at a screen as an excuse for intimacy is depressing. Those 452 “friends” you have listed? When was the last time you sat face to face in non-virtual reality and had an actual spoken conversation with one of them? If it’s been over two weeks, time to head out that front door and experience how wonderfully unexpected life can be on the outside.

Now that I’ve gotten the FB thing out of my system, on to more cheerful suggestions.  Outside of your friends and family, you really can learn to enjoy your own company. Here are some Fine Divorcée easy suggestions, based on much experience:

1. Take yourself out to eat at a congenial restaurant, preferably one that you know well. Bring along a book, magazine or i-version of either and seat yourself at the bar. Why the bar? You don’t have to look out over the crowd of couples and you always have the bartender to converse with. Plus, the bar is generally populated with others also eating alone. I adore this experience. If I’m in a social mood I’ll inevitably end up in a conversation with someone interesting. If I’m feeling solitary, then my reading material keeps me perfectly occupied.

2. Travel alone. Honestly, there’s nothing better for the soul, nothing more fulfilling. You can make your plans and no one will sabotage them. No need to even arrange your excursions in advance, as waking up in a new place with so many possibilities is one sensational energizer. Just wander and see what unfolds. I’ve met some fascinating people during my solo travels and learned much about others in the process. Don’t forget to use suggestion number 1 for refueling purposes.

3. Discover those interests near home that you’ve never had time for in the past. Being alone means having lots more time to treat yourself to the little joys in life. Now you can take that cooking class and finally learn how to sauté (hmm, definitely something I could use). Or how about that little farmers’ market you keep meaning to check out, but blow off for the convenience of the local supermarket? Or maybe it’s time to learn how to roller-blade like a pro? And my own personal favorite: a day at the spa. Just booked one for Sunday, actually.

4. The cinema. Yes, you heard me right—not Netflix, not Hulu—the movie theater. No better place on earth to hang out with yourself. It’s dark, there’s popcorn to not share with anyone, and a story in which to lose yourself. Of course, some places are weird about unescorted movie-going. I lived in Los Angeles for a bit in my late twenties and once was asked in a cinema line-up how many friends would be joining me. I said I was seeing the movie alone. “All by yourself?!” was the shocked response. L.A.—where insecurity rules.

There are some occasions where being alone can suck. I avoid going to parties solo where I’m not already part of the inner circle. These things are meant for socializing and no matter how many times I’ve forced myself into the situation, I’m always a little freaked out by it. If you still feel this way after trying my four suggestions a number of times, then no need to push the envelope. Call a friend instead. But I’m pretty sure you’ll be able to excel at at least two types of outings on your own. That reminds me of suggestion number 5: a nice glass of Pinot Noir can do wonders for your socializing capabilities.

Now, what is the name of that fine cooking class that I saw advertised on Facebook the other day?

—The Fine Divorcée

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May 25, 2011 · 11:14 am

The empty bed

There it is, waiting for you with open arms and pillows—your empty bed. You may be the type who stares at it in disgust—only because it reminds you too much of your failed relationship. But try to look at this as the start of a new relationship, one which will bring you much-needed respite. I’m talking about a beautiful bond with your bed.

You now have all that space to yourself. Think about it—you can finally stretch out full length in total bliss. No one will wake you up four times a night with their snoring/tossing/blanket-stealing. No one will “accidentally” whack you across the head while in R.E.M. mode. No one else’s alarm but your own will rouse you in the morning. And who really enjoys peeling open one’s eyes to the sight of a nose-hair-covered nasal passage? Or to the lovely odor of drooling halitosis?

Let’s face it: a good night’s sleep does not come easily to those of us over 35. Granted, some of us need a warm body alongside our own in order to avoid counting sheep, and that’s wonderful. But if you’re in a bad relationship, I doubt sharing 300 to 400 square feet with your nemesis is going to help you catch any serious z’s. If you’re alone and you need to sleep with someone, I suggest getting a cat. “Cat” is basically the definition of “sleep” as they do it oh so well. There’s nothing better than snoozing under the warm and fuzzy weight of a feline. Dogs can be substituted for those who hate cats, although in my experience they tend to snore… and fart.

I personally love sleeping alone (or with my cat). It’s also one of the reasons that my partner of five years, Monsieur Z, and I choose to live separately. Don’t get me wrong—I enjoy sleeping with him (and his cat), just not every night. He occasionally snores and enjoys inching bit by bit into my zone. I’m a tosser and robber of blankets. Besides, I need my beauty sleep, which sometimes entails applying rather frightening products to my face for the night. I’d rather he not be witness to such a sight. My cat could not care less.

So get rid of that old duvet cover and dress it in a style that’s 100% you. Flip that mattress or even buy a new one. Then climb in and embark on a fabulous new relationship with your bed. We spend one third of our life in it—why not make the most of it?

Actually, now is the perfect occasion to shop for some fine 500-count sheets.

—The Fine Divorcée

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May 23, 2011 · 3:22 pm

Nobody knows anything

And now a small word about Maria and Arnold (yes, yes, I know—I’ve fallen for the quintessential subject du jour).

We can never really know what goes on in a marriage or a relationship. What may appear to be the perfect union could be a couple in denial. And the couple who’s always fighting? Well, they could very well happily argue til death do them part.

Maria and Arnie’s thousand-watt smiles seemed to promote a happy couple. She supported his political life (even if it was for the opposing party) and he… well, he was always singing her praises, albeit while galavanting with other women on the side. I, for one, was not surprised by the announcement that they had separated. Nor was I the least bit shocked by the subsequent announcement that he had fathered a child that was not Maria’s. Every single relationship has its problems.

It’s impossible to know what goes on behind closed doors. And thank God—it’s hard enough to juggle what’s going on behind our own. Personally, I don’t approve when couples compare their relationship to others’:
“Why can’t we be touchy-feely like them?”
“Why can’t you be romantic like him?”
“Why can’t you appreciate me like she appreciates him?”
Yuck. Do we need to add insult to injury by judging our coupledom against those we really know nothing about? In the end, as they say in Hollywood, nobody knows anything.

When Mr. X and I told friends about our separation (I’ll delve into informing families another day, as it’s an entire subject of its own), the various reactions were telling. Some friends who had been part of our entourage for ages were very surprised. New acquaintances and other close friends, not so much. But everyone had an idea of what was going on behind our closed doors. What’s interesting is how these friends then went about choosing sides and making judgment calls. In a divorce, not only do you lose your partner, you are bound to lose certain friendships.

The best thing to do is to not get bogged down by who doesn’t choose you, nor by those who do and then feel obligated to offer their profound wisdom. “I always thought he was an asshole” is a comment to ignore (even if you heartily agree). “Are you OK? Let me know how I can help” is a friend you can count on. Don’t deny your ex those friends who choose him or her over you—your ex will appreciate it, as will the friends. Taking the high road is always preferable to whining and stamping your foot in protest.

Just remember: at least the state of your relationship is not being tweeted and scrutinized the world over. Poor Maria. Poor Arnie (yes, he’s suffering too). If only your friends and family—and possibly the nosy neighbor down the street—are discussing your coupledom or lack thereof, then consider yourself one lucky human being.

Time to drop all comparisons and treat yourself to a little outing—that new Hollywood blockbuster at the local cinema, if a bit mindless, sounds very fine.

—The Fine Divorcée

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