Tag Archives: divorce

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 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 12, 2011 · 1:56 pm

The oh-oh moment

So, you’re contemplating leaving your spouse. The idea started a long time ago as a teeny little seed in the back of your mind that you didn’t even realize was there. But then, maybe a few months or a year later, some thin roots took hold, and you had this oh-oh moment: “Oh-oh, he’s done it again.” (I’m using the masculine here because that was my experience, but feel free to replace “he” with “she”, except of course when referring to leaving the toilet seat up.)

I had an oh-oh moment with every boyfriend:
-Oh oh, he smokes.
-Oh oh, he thinks Argentina is the capital of New Mexico.
-Oh oh, his tongue is so far down my throat I think it has actually reached the bottom of my esophagus.
-Oh oh, he’s a boob guy.

Usually I would discover the oh-oh moment within the first few weeks. Either I would drop the guy immediately, or I would ignore the obvious because, hey, he was sexy/funny/smart and that trumped the negative—for a while. Typically by month eight, I would be fed up and driving him crazy. Bye-bye love.

With my future husband, Mr. X, I did not run into that oh-oh moment until after we were married. Subsequently I ignored it—I was married, for better or worse. But it kept rearing its ugly head at inopportune moments and the little seed that was probably there when we took our vows grew longer and stronger roots with each passing year. Certainly Mr. X was growing his own oh-oh weed garden about yours truly.

Let me clarify something: leaving the cap off the toothpaste does not an oh-oh moment make. An oh-oh moment signifies a serious issue, not a silly one. It’s often just his or her personality trait and could be very charming to someone better suited. Unless emotional or physical abuse is involved, usually no one is at fault.

Maybe your oh-oh is not so hard to live with. If you can ignore it, by all means do. If you can discuss it and create a ha-ha moment, then go for it. But if it’s eating away at you, even after much discussion or therapy, then you need to confront the oh-oh and very possibly dig it up and toss it out of your life. Its roots could take over your brain—and eventually your heart.

Now go out and do something nice for yourself. A day off the work treadmill to take in the sun sounds very fine.

-The Fine Divorcée

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May 11, 2011 · 6:45 pm

This is not another cranky divorce blog

This blog is for anyone who is divorced, who is contemplating divorce or separation, or who was screwed up by their own parents’ divorce—or lack of one.

I am divorced. Seven years now. No, wait… I separated from my husband in early 2003, right after I turned 40. Then we got divorced a few years later. So let’s see…

Crap. When hitting one’s 40s, one also loses up to 40% of one’s brain cells. Obviously the year of my divorce was not stored in the other 60% of my brain.

No big deal, as you get the general idea: my divorce was a fine one. Not that there weren’t difficulties and tears—there were, many. But overall it was a success that has amazed a large number within my circle of friends. I have been asked so many times for advice on my experience that last fall I decided to write a memoir about it—which I am struggling to finish in between running my design business, keeping up with my kids’ lives, and nourishing my present relationship.

So why add a blog to my already crazy-full life? First, I figure it’s the perfect complement to my “upcoming” memoir (I have put “upcoming” in quotes because I have no publisher and therefore no deadline.) Second, it will push me to write.

But the main reason for this blog is that maybe something here will help one of you out there to make a decision that’s right for you, for your children and for your partner.

Now go and treat yourself to something nice. A glass of Chardonnay sounds very fine to me.

-The Fine Divorcée

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