Regrets

I regret a lot of things that I have done in my life. I've lied, cheated, been rude, and so much more.

Honestly, I feel like if I told anybody close to me that I feel like I'm a bad person, they would tell me I was a amazing person and not to feel bad. People may think this, but I know deep down inside that I am truly a bad person. I don't try to be such a bad person. It just kind of happens. And, honestly? It hurts deep down inside, so far down that sometimes I feel like I have a boulder pushing down on me. I feel like there is a lump of coal in my stomach that makes me so nausea.

You are probably wondering right now, "Why is this girl getting so down on herself?" Well, like I said, I've done some terrible things in the past, but nothing can match up to what I have done to persist me to write this. So, here it is…

I stole money. Not just from anyone, but from my own family. I stole a great deal of money over the past few months from my mom and step-dad. It all started around the third trimester of my school year. I was really down, because I didn't have much money, which meant I couldn't hang out with my friends much. So, one night, when I was down stairs alone, I got to thinking about how much I wanted to hang out with my friends. I got this idea, that I could steal money from both my mom and step-dad. I stole $20 each from them. I thought this would last for a while and that I would never do it again. But, then I didn't get caught and I got stuck in the same situation. So, I did it again. The same amount and the same way. I didn't get caught. I continued doing this, because I figured no one knew, and how much could it really hurt? A lot. It hurt a lot.

So, then summer rolled around. I was really excited and was going shopping like almost every week. My mom kept asking me, "Where's all this money coming from Grace?” Conveniently, my aunt, uncle and cousins (on my dad's side) were visiting from over seas. My aunt has always spoiled me in the past. So, I used that as an excuse. I would just tell her, "Oh! My aunt gave it to me." I lost track of how much I spent.

So, the other day my dad dropped me off after having dinner with him. When he came to the door, my mom asked me if she could have a few minutes to talk with him… alone. I didn't think anything of it. Then she came into the living room and asked me if she could speak to me. They, my mom and step-dad, had known the whole time of my horrible acts.

Do I regret? Hell yea. I would do anything in the world to take it back. I wish I could take back every moment of it. But, like when you squeeze too much toothpaste out of the container, you can't put it back. I've gotten myself into some serious shit. I don't even know why I thought it was a good idea. I don't even know why I kept doing it. God, I feel so stupid. I feel horrible. I have a continuous sick feeling in my stomach… and I don't like it.

Mom and Step-Dad, if you're reading this, I'm so sorry. I wouldn't be surprised if you never wanted to talk to me again. I wouldn't be surprised if you never wanted to even look to me again. I wouldn't even be surprised if you never wanted to hear from me again. Honestly, I wouldn't be surprised if you hated me forever. I don't blame you. I would probably do the same thing. I would defiantly feel the same way. You guys have always helped me succeed, encourage me, teach me, and showed me nothing but love. What did I give you? Distrust. Lies. I hurt you. I am sorry.

Meddling, being honest, and how to keep friendships

Grace was at music camp last week. Choir concert, Grace looked and sounded great, I loved seeing her enjoy herself. Last night she told me that there was some drama during her week away. You know, the kind where the girls all talk late at night in their cabin and one girl confesses her undying love for a boy? And then some of the girls decide to intervene, you know, to help the fledgling lovers out? 'Cause their communication is breaking down? Except that by intervening, the girls make things worse. By the end of the trip, the one girl who was in love asked Grace what she thought of her. Grace was more than blunt. She told her she was being bitchy.

Did I mention that Grace didn't know the girl a week earlier? That she's an incoming freshman?

I told Grace she might not want to be so brutally honest with the girl. And that she shouldn't meddle. I don't know whether Grace is going to take my advice.

The whole story threw me back to my own middle school and high school experiences. (I confess, getting an invite to my 20th high school reunion this week helped the speed of my total recall significantly.) Remember when it was so exciting to be "in the know"? To be the one who was the facilitator? The helper? The one who was just trying to make everyone happy? I do. I seem to also recall stirring up quite a bit on controversy. Which was also exciting.

The point is, being the girl who was meddling oftentimes meant I was the one who caused unpleasant situations to come about. In the midst of my conversation with Grace about the situation, I told her that there are precious few times in which it's worth telling someone what you really think of their romantic inclinations towards another person. As soon as the words came out of my mouth, I started challenging my own advice.

Is that true? As an adult, there are so many of my girlfriends who have gone through dating and marriage and divorce and cohabiting and reuniting...and on and on and on and on it goes. Most recently, one of my longest-term friends asked me to meet her boyfriend. Her idea was that I am one of her dearest friends, one of her closest and most intimate friends, and someone whose judgment she trusts. She wanted my opinion on the boyfriend. It's not the first time she's asked. Anyways, the end of the story is that I told her I thought he was great. Was that the truth? I ask you a more relevant question: Does it matter what my opinion of her boyfriend is?

Being honest with a close friend, especially about someone they are involved romantically with, is dangerous stuff. When you're in love, when you're physically close with someone, you really don't want to hear an objective opinion on what someone outside of the relationship thinks of your lover. Sure, you want to hear that your lover is great, fantastic, friendly, kind, smart, clever, funny, generous, thoughtful, or talented. That's the feedback you're looking for -- a confirmation that, in spite of your giggling and silliness and inability to see things objectively, you are being wise and smart and making good choices. But when you're in love, when your heart is spilling over with admiration and adoration of another human being, you don't wanna hear anything negative about him.

So here's my dilemma. When is it safe to be honest with a friend regarding a lover? There are clear times, like if he's abusive or extortive. But what if he's just a jerk? What if you question his ethics? What if he just rubs you the wrong way, over and over and over again? What if you just don't click with him? I find myself weighing the value of what I think is best for a friend versus what is really best for that friend. So what if I don't agree with someone's politics or ethics? Or if I find them a jerk? Does that outweigh a friend's potential for unlimited happiness? Isn't it a bit arrogant of myself to believe that my long lasting friendship with someone is more valuable than someone else's relationship with her?

Of course, there is the other side to this dilemma. Live and let live, que sera, sera, and such. It's so easy to stay out of someone's business. So much easier than speaking your mind and risking the backlash. Then the question of what is more important is between my comfort and a friend's well-being.

Where does the line lay? Is there any way to formulate a rule that works in every situation?

I would love to hear the stories out there. One friend has already given me her sad experience, the moral of the story being, NEVER tell someone what you think of their lover. EVER. And the story really was very, very sad. Another friend, one who was separated from her husband when he was exploring the kinky side of middle age, she just reunited with him after six full years of feuding. They are happy as ever. Unfortunately, I was brutally honest with her and way over-involved in their complications. Now I'm wondering if we'll ever get the intimacy of our friendship back.

I'm just trying to figure out what I should tell Grace, you know? 'Cause like every good parent, this really has nothing to do with me (wink, wink, nudge, nudge, say-no-more, say-no-more).

What would you do if you were Kate?

I just saw this clip online.



Did anyone else see this coming a mile away? Sorry to be so jaded, but the relationship between Jon and Kate Gosselin as shown on their show seemed way too off to be ok.

Poor parenting choices

Every so often I have a realization and something that's been eating at me for a long while makes sense. I have an insight about myself that makes it possible for me to stop visiting some vexing episode from my past. When it happens, I try to share it here. Let's hope that by doing so it not only helps me square things away, but maybe others can comment on the situation too and I'll learn more. And someone else might learn something too.

For this a-ha moment, I will revisit my relationship (or lack thereof) with Grace's father and stepmother. Though I have written about the topic here before, I'll recap the essential points. They met and began a relationship while Grace's father was still living with Grace and me, while he was pretending all was well with our home life. When I found out about that affair from him and he didn't show signs of remorse or intention to end the relationship, we separated right away. He moved in with Grace's eventual stepmother immediately and they've been together even since. About a year later, once our divorce was settled and everyone seemed to have the feeling that all was forgiven, the eventual stepmother introduced herself to me in a typed letter. In the letter she suggested that it was the time for us to meet, given that this would be the best thing for Grace. She also included some complaints she had about my parenting. It wasn't the first time I had heard from Grace's father or his girlfriend that they believed my parenting skills were lacking. I was, to say the least, insulted.

That was many years ago. Half of Grace's lifetime ago. The once-upon-a-time girl-on-the-side/mistress/girlfriend stuck through all the ups and downs, married Grace's father, and they have been together for the last seven years. I must say, I'm surprised; they definitely have defied all statistics I have heard regarding what factors can make or break a relationship. I assume they are a match made in heaven. They have two children together now, both toddlers. And so it is that Grace's stepmother has now achieved a new status -- mother. If there was any question about whether her parenting skills were adequate when she entered Grace's life, those questions are now answered by her birthing her own two children. I hear some anecdote about these munchkins almost daily. Grace loves to talk about her stepmother and those babies. The stories usually don't involve her father at all, just her stepmother and the babies.

How do I respond to these stories? It varies. Sometimes I react neutrally. I let Grace talk and then I just say something dismissive like, 'that sounds interesting' and try to change the topic as quickly as possible. Sometimes I intentionally lend a deaf ear. I don't respond in any way negatively. The next comment out of my mouth is something completely unrelated. Or if the story seems to be going on and on with no end in sight, I either ask an unrelated question or I say I need to excuse myself from the room. And then there's the worst response: when I actually listen to the content of what's going on with the woman and her children. Most of the time I have very little good to say about it. And during the whole interaction, I'm thinking in my mind of how much I wish this person and her children had never had the good fortune of having the small minute details of their lives take up my precious time.

Why? Why do I dislike hearing about Grace's stepmother and her children?

It would be easy to think that I was mad at her because, well, she ruined my marriage and stole my husband. Sometimes when I write about these situations here or talk about them in person, people say this must be the reason I'm so mad at her and not Grace's father. If it were otherwise, I would rant on and on about him, not her; the fact that I don't go off about him must mean that I'm still liking him. However, such a conclusion would be erroneous. Though the explanation seems to be logical, it leaves out an important detail. She was not, by far, the first affair my ex-husband had while he was involved with me (thus my surprise at the fact that the relationship actually lasted). No, the affair my ex-husband had with her just happened to coincide with him telling me many other details of his sordid dealings during our marriage and my choice to end it then and there. Many times in my retrospection I've realized that I could have saved our marriage, if by "saved" we mean something like, "keep it legally binding while extending sexual relationships far beyond the confines of monogamy." Instead I soundly chose to end the marriage. I told him I wanted him to move out, I told him I wanted physical custody of Grace, and I told him I wanted a divorce. And he never protested any of these points.

Still, the question remains, why do I so strongly dislike any mention of Grace's stepmother and her children? I believe this is the reason: it's because she, along with her now-husband, created a situation that was difficult for my child. I think it's fair to say that up until the point in her life when her parents separated, Grace hadn't faced anything quite as difficult as that. During that time, her father and eventual stepmother didn't exactly give her room to breathe. From the first visit Grace had with her father after the separation, his girlfriend was there. Grace and her father never spent a moment together without his girlfriend being physically present. And it wasn't just that she was physically present and with Grace; it was that she was physically involved with Grace's father openly in front of Grace. Essentially, I got the impression that Grace's visitation times with her father boiled down to her being included in her father's dates. I wasn't the only person who suggested to Grace's father that this might not be the best thing for Grace at that time given the goal of building a relationship with him now that she was seeing him a small fraction of the amount of time she used to. Teachers, counselors, Grace's godparents all questioned the wisdom of this choice. Yet he and his girlfriend stood fast -- they were there for Grace and there was no need for anyone to be concerned about their choices or their parenting styles.

As you may well imagine, I considered their choices at that point to be poor. They should have realized that this all was going a little too quickly for Grace. I addressed this a couple times to the court through legal process and through mediation and was basically told that I had no legal or moral grounds to make the argument. Grace's father was her father, and his choice to include his girlfriend in everything was not abusive or negligent, therefore there was nothing more to be said. So I swallowed that bitter pill. But as if that wasn't enough, Grace's father and his girlfriend went one step further and actively questioned my choices in parenting. They said I was too strict with Grace and didn't let her be enough of a free spirit. They said I punished her too much, scolded her too much. (Mind you, my use of "they" here really refers to Grace's father's criticisms given in the form of "Amy and I feel that you...") I suppose what "they" meant in their criticisms of my parenting was that I should parent a little more like they did. Like maybe I should take Grace out with my friends to bars and let her sing karaoke while I got a bit soused. That's what her father did, anyways. In the back of my mind I thought of Grace's father, 'you leave your kid so you can be free and wild, you don't give so much as a protest with respect to custody, and for you the most logical next step in addressing our responsibilities as parents of this kid is to question my parenting?' And where did the girlfriend fit into that whole picture, exactly? She hooks up with a married guy who's still living with his wife and kid, has him move in with her once his wife asks him to leave, and then suddenly she's an expert on parenting?

Within a few short months of our separation, Grace's father told me that his girlfriend loved Grace as much as he or I did. I almost choked on my words trying to protest that. A woman who doesn't see value in a man spending even one moment alone with his daughter immediately after the dismantling of her nuclear family, even when many other adults in the child's life are strongly suggesting that, and this is a demonstration of love as strong as the child's own mother and father? That in only a few short months of her seeing Grace once a week for a few hours while she was making out with her boyfriend, she had reached a level of intimacy and affection for this child as strong as the feelings the child's mother and father, the ones who had sacrificed day after day and year after year for her well-being? This woman loved this child as much as her mother, who twice put her education and career on hold for years because her child needed to come first? This woman, who had never so much as seen the child's school, loved Grace as much as the two parents who had spent night after precious night, year after year, watching their child struggle through classwork and homework and a possible diagnosis of ADD?

The response I did give to his suggestion that his girlfriend's love for Grace was equal to ours as her parents was to ask him whether he agreed also that his girlfriend's love for Grace exceeded that of her grandparents and godparents. The logic behind this argument was that, though we knew these other people loved Grace a great deal, certainly we both agreed that our love for Grace was greater than these other people in her life. He didn't respond.

The details I've given above all took place in the year immediately following my separation from Grace's father. If I continued through the next 6-7 years, citing other instances that were poor choices in parenting on this couple's part, perhaps even negligent, we'd all just be bored very quickly. Though the couple seems to have settled down a bit in recent years with the addition of more children to their life, those critical months of Grace's life were not treated with care.

But here's the point: this is why the constant cutesy stories about this couple and their new children ire me so much. I don't want to hear about this man (Grace's father, my ex-husband) and this woman (Grace's stepmother) and their children. They questioned my parenting, and worse, they questioned it at a time when they themselves were guilty of putting their own needs before my child's. Their parenting was lacking. And now I am faced with hearing Grace talk about them in a glowing way as parents to their two new children. My very child, the one who I fought hard for the well-being of, she is glorifying the role as parents of these two people who I believe didn't practice what they preached at a critical time in Grace's life.

Practically speaking, I've told Grace all this. In calm tones, in implicit messages, in yelling, in anger, in tears. I've explained it all to her many times. When all that didn't seem to make a dent in her enthusiasm for relating every single event in her father's family life, my husband, Grace's stepfather, took a stab at it. He tried to explain my feelings to her from the perspective of being the child of divorced parents. Yet still, she didn't stop. Sometimes when she brings up these stories, I just turn to my husband and start a different conversation, hoping that Grace will remember that the topic of conversation is one we don't want to have in our home. But she doesn't understand that. She just keeps talking, even telling us to pay attention to her because she was telling her story first. It's as if she can't accept that this is painful to me. It's as if she needs me to forgive her father and stepmother and be excited to hear about their kids. Why? Why can't she accept that they hurt me once and that hearing about their life day after day after day, when I've asked not to be told about it, is like reopening a wound and pouring salt into it, a wound that I would just as soon would never be reopened?

There is a bit of this that I understand from Grace's perspective. Grace really likes these two kids. I imagine that in her mind she believes that I will like them someday as much as she does. They are, after all, her siblings. But it's a little wacky for me in my mind. I can't seem to find a way of explaining to Grace that, though she thinks these kids are terrific and that they are really cool to her because they are babies and her siblings and lots of fun, I do not desire to know these kids or to be affectionate with them. Sure, I've been around them. Grace and her father and her stepmother seem to have no qualms about me interacting with these kids. I'm not cruel. I don't give them dirty looks or spit hateful words or all the rest. I think the last time I even saw or spoke to Grace's stepmother was shortly after the second one was born; we had come by to pick Grace up and they were eager to invite us in so we could see the new baby. I really would have rather not come in, but what are you going to do, refuse and say you're going to wait outside in the cold because you don't want to be in their home or see their infants? And there this mother was, beaming, showing me her new baby. I smiled and asked her how she was recovering. Whatever. Thank you southern upbringing that allows me to feign congeniality in the midst of my discomfort.

I guess it still comes down to me feeling like my perspective is missed. More than missed, it's entirely ignored. These tiny children are being used as objects of affection in the hopes that I will get over my feelings of the past and believe that these two were always good parents. I don't want to see the kids. I don't want to find out how they do as parents to their own biological children. I just want my daughter to be ok and I want to move on. I don't want to constantly be reminded of people from my past and their attempts to reconcile their past wrongs towards me. Wrongs that they don't even accept ever existed.

Now I ask, is there any chance that Grace will be able to understand my perspective? Ever? Or will she continue striving to find some way to get her two families to actually reconcile and enjoy one another? Doesn't everyone have a situation in their family, intact or not, where they figure out that two people don't get along? And you learn to work around it and not mention them to each other? Is this situation so very different than that?

Children and divorce, a.k.a., "a post I have been avoiding"

I conducted a poll here months ago and the results have just been hanging over there on the lefthand sidebar ever since. The brief question: "Do you think that the negative effects divorce has on children should cause a parent to decide against divorce?" I've been avoiding discussing the results in a post because it's a dicey issue, one that touches upon a topic near to my heart -- that is, the balance every parent faces of what is best for them and what is best for their children. We know the two are not always the same thing, especially in the case of separation and divorce.

When I was newly divorced and a friend would come to me saying their spouse was cheating on them or being rude to them or just plain being a jerk, without thinking twice I would say, "Get out, it's not worth it. Get out now while you can." Very quickly, though, I came to realize that separation and divorce, and the lack thereof, is never the same story twice.

Friends, family, neighbors, passersby, when you're getting divorced everyone has an opinion. When I was getting divorced, the comments I got can largely be summarized in one of two statements: (1) "What a jerk, leave him now" and (2) "Wow, this is unlike anything I've ever seen or heard of." The first is because despite my ex-husband giving the appearance of the doting father and loving husband, he was, in fact, living a double life. He played like he was in love with me...and then went out to the strip clubs and picked up women for one night stands. That wasn't all. Apparently he had also had about 10+ relationships during our short 8 year marriage. In order to explain frequent absences, he would use the excuse that he was needed in an emergency on-call situation, since he is a social worker with mental health patients. So when people found out about the massive extent of his lying, they were shocked, and very supportive of my wanting him to move out. The second comment came largely out of the speed with which the whole thing came down. On Friday night, I thought everything was normal and my then-husband left to go out with friends for the night. By Monday morning at 2a I told him I wanted him never to sleep at the house again and that I wanted a divorce. Really. That fast. It was shocking to me, and to everyone else too. But the choice seemed straight-forward to me, and I never considered doing otherwise once enough of the facts were in.

But...there's more. See, it wasn't like the marriage was just two people. There was a little girl involved, one who had just turned 8. And one who, like her mother, had no clue that anything was amiss in her family. Her family did things together and sometimes daddy had to be away for work. And daddy had lots of friends, men and women, close friends who were very familiar, who she knew and met. Nothing seemed strange, and it definitely didn't seem to her like everything she knew about her family was about to get blown up into pieces.

Within a couple weeks of us telling her we were separating and divorcing, she saw a family counselor with me. When asked who was in her family, she drew a picture of herself, me and the cat. She came home and drew the same picture for me with markers and colored pencils on handmade paper, which she wanted displayed in the living room. Within a few more weeks, she was acting out in anger. Then I said I wanted for her to see her own counselor to work through the situation. And that she did, every Saturday for a year, at $150 a pop.

My ex-husband's parents, at the time of the brief separation before I filed for divorce, had one conversation with me over the phone. They said they knew everything that was going on and were praying for a miracle. A few months later, my ex-father-in-law told me over the phone, with the disclaimer that it would probably be difficult for me to hear at that point, that Grace would grow through the experience of having her parents divorce and would be a better person as a result. After the divorce was final, I heard secondhand that the in-laws had said I was unforgiving, that I had kicked my ex-husband out despite his enormous devotion to our daughter and his willingness to want to work things out, and that he (not I) was having to work overtime to make sure our daughter was doing well. (There was no mention that he might have done anything wrong.)

I didn't pause then. I was still angry as hell and thinking, how could anyone not see that I am right in this situation and did nothing wrong? How dare anyone suggest that I messed up things for my daughter and that I am the one to blame for her difficulties emotionally!

It was only years later that it occurred to me, I never considered Grace's feelings in a deep way. My thoughts at the time were, take care of me, pull her under me, and deal with her emotional reaction to the situation afterward.

Hindsight is 20/20, so they say. I can look back now and breathe a sigh of relief that I ended the relationship and got divorced and got on with my life as soon as I did. Despite this, I wish that I had been superwoman. I wish I could have given Grace exactly what she needed at that time and not for a moment let my own hurt in the situation interfere with what I told her. I didn't bash her father, or speak rudely of him, or tell her any of the wrong things that he was doing. I didn't yell at him or talk about him on the phone or in the house when she was within earshot. Still. I didn't defend her father. I didn't say anything when she said she missed him. And I definitely didn't want to hear word one about his girlfriend. I just thought, if I leave well enough alone and just let events unfold, she'll come to realize I was right and he was wrong and she'll want to be with me and love me and enjoy all her time with me and she'll realize that he's not worthy and that I am the one who really takes care of her.

Um, right. She was 8 at the time. The truth of the matter is that almost seven years later, she desperately wants intimacy with her father and has a real fear that if she doesn't call him to ask when she'll see him next, she may never see him again. She has no sense that anyone was wrong or right, she just wants everyone to get along and put the past behind them.

So that being said, let's examine the poll. 18 people surveyed, top four answers are on the board. Here comes the question: Do you think that the negative effects divorce has on children should cause a parent to decide against divorce?

Number 1 answer:
"No, because children are worse off living in a household with two adults who are unhappy than they would be having parents who are not together."

50 points to the team that guessed that.

Number 2 answer
"Yes, but not if the children are in danger. If one adult is abusive, the other parent should {move out, separate, divorce} and bring the children with them at all costs."

I see the number 2 answer as the same as number 1, just a difference of degree. If the parent is unhappy, the kids' come first, but if the unhappiness extends to physical danger to the children, then the unhappy parent gets to get out. See how it's a matter of degree? I'm not downplaying abuse or physical danger here -- of course I think a parent should leave with the kids if there's an abusive situation. I'm just saying, if the marital relationship is falling apart and the kids are subjected to that, half of you think that's "danger" enough to justify ending the marriage without any further discussion of what's good for the kids.

Only two other answers, one vote each. Polar opposites of one another:

"No, because I think divorce is wrong."

and

"No, because adults have a right to make whatever decision is best for them."

The first, I can only guess one must hold some other value that goes along with this. Like, only marry after a 10-year courtship and you know the person inside and out. Or, never have children. Or, never get married. Or, you're a member of a religious sect, your spouse is too, and your whole life revolved around this religion since the moment you met, and there is no situation the god of this religion can't handle and you will be damned for eternity if you even consider divorcing. If you voted this way, lemme know what's on your mind.

The second? I can explain perfectly. That was my vote. And I think it's what I did. I have spent the last 5+ years of my life building a relationship with my husband that I hope never puts me in the situation of having to make a decision on this question again. I do want to defend the answer a bit, though. There's nothing about doing what you think is right for you as a parent that means you don't care about your children or that you're not looking out for their good. I interpret it to be something like, I have to take care of me and make myself healthy, and only then am I able to take of those under my watch. If I am sacrificing my own good too much, I am doing no one any good.

The next time I put a poll on this site, I'm going to think twice before putting up such a weighty topic.

Going away for the weekend

Grace is away for the weekend. She is visiting her stepmother's family in the northern part of the lower penisula of Michigan. It is her stepmother's younger sister's 16th birthday.

She hasn't visited what she calls her "step-family" in quite a while. It was at least last spring if not earlier the last time she was there. Because it was Grace's stepmother's sister's birthday though, it was very important to Grace's dad that Grace get to be with him this weekend and that the trip be made. I asked him a week ago, you're going to go no matter what the weather forecast? He said yes. The region was under a winter storm warning starting at noon yesterday. When I checked with Grace's dad at lunch time, the trip was still a go. He arrived at 7:30p to pick her up and they headed northward in the storm.

When my ex-husband brought up the trip to me last week, I could feel myself get irritated. I thought to myself, why is it important for Grace to make this trip? I was very reticent to just be calm about the whole thing. After he and I had talked, Grace and I discussed the trip. There was a party at her swim team coach's house on Friday night with her whole team; she would miss it in order to go on the trip. I asked her, is it really that important to go up to your stepmother's family's house for less than two days? She insisted it was very important to go. And then I said this to her: "You can go if you want; it's your decision. I guess it's just difficult for me to wrap my head around because the circumstances under which you visited this family the first time and met them were so bad."

It really wasn't until the words came out of my mouth that remembered this circumstance and how it took place so many years ago. Almost half of Grace's life ago.

Let's go back. May 2002, coming up on Memorial Day weekend. The falling out between Grace's father and I and the subsequent separation occurred only a month earlier. I didn't know where he was living or with who. As with most couples in the first few weeks of separation, he had slung quite a few zingers at me. Like throwing the car keys at me in the middle of the elementary school parking lot, yelling "I never want to have anything to do with you again. Take the car, it's yours." Like yelling at me in the house in front of Grace "you were the biggest mistake of my entire life. I wish I never met you." In this duration, we agreed that he should see her once a week and spend time with her. Other than this, he dropped out of her life. No phone calls, no visits to the school, no attending events. And then came a phone call out of the blue. He wanted to take Grace out of town, just the two of them, to the north of Michigan. He knew a couple there with a big ranch/farm/plat of land. They had a daughter just a year older than Grace. He knew them, they were good people. The man of the household was a police officer. This family had invited him to their homestead to stay for the weekend just so he could have an out of the way place to spend time with his daughter alone and not have to worry about hotel costs or camp ground fees or any other incurred costs.

It sounded fishy to me. I wanted to know who this family was, and he was beating around when the bush with details. I also was very suspicious about letting this guy take our daughter 300 miles away to a family's home that I had never met. Should I trust him? At that point? Hell, no. I told him I wasn't comfortable with the situation without knowing the details. If there was nothing to hide, why wouldn't he tell me who these people were, how he knew them, and where they lived.

Well, he finally told me. It was his girlfriend's parents. The girl Grace's age was the girlfriend's sister. Actually, I'm forgetting that at the time Grace's dad got really mad at me whenever I referred to this woman as his girlfriend. Weird, huh? He was living with her, sleeping with her, spending all his time with his daughter with her...if not a girlfriend, who was she? I digress...

I told him no way, no day. It was entirely inappropriate at this point to introduce Grace to the family of her father's girlfriend. She hadn't even seen her grandparents, godparents, aunts, uncles, no extended family since we had separated -- why on earth would we decide that the best thing for Grace at that point would be for her to begin new relationships with other extended family? As you can imagine, he was furious. He cursed me. He accused me. He told me I was trying to control him. When I related the episode to a friend, she told me in frank honesty, 'you need to file for divorce immediately and get an order of sole physical custody.' So I did. In reflection, I don't regret the decision at all. The legitimate fear was that he seemed likely to not comply with my wishes, and perhaps he would just decide to leave town with her without my permission. And maybe not come back. And since I had no idea where he was living and he wouldn't tell me...you get the idea.

Fast-forward to a couple months later. We are in family court to have a judge hear the case for custody. Grace's dad is fine with my having sole physical custody. There's just one catch: he wants overnights. Well, that would be fine, except I'm still a bit skeptical about what's going on in the house. And since the only way to get permission to see someone's home is to sue them, that's what we were in court for. After some discussion, I reluctantly agreed to a trial period of overnights. Saturday nights, 24 hours, every other weekend, in town at the address he had provided to me and to the court. And only after he had provided a time for me to visit there. For two months we were supposed to have this trial. 4 overnight visits. If all went well, they would go to weekends. Fine, seemed reasonable.

For the third weekend, Grace's dad came and picked her up from the house Saturday afternoon. She returned Sunday afternoon. When she returned, she went to her friend's house across the street. Within 30 minutes, my neighbor called me and asked, "did you know that Grace went out of town with her dad this weekend to his girlfriend's family's home?"

And that's how it happened. After all that, after hearing all my concerns, after me saying that I really thought the most important thing for Grace at that time was to get as much time with the people who loved her and she knew and she was familiar with and were looking out for her best interests and were concerned about her well-being during her parents' divorce, Grace's dad decided none of that mattered. After a judge decided that Grace should stay in town during visitation with her dad, her dad decided the most important thing was to get Grace to his girlfriend's family's house, 300 miles away, and have her start building a relationship with them. Including a younger sister who was now a fast friend. And he decided to do all this behind my back. Never even mentioned it. If my daughter were not talkative, I never would have known.

Is it any wonder that I dislike it when Grace goes to visit these people? Is it any mystery as to why I dislike them, despite never having met them? I've often wanted to ask Grace's "step-grandparents" (her stepmother's parents), how would you feel if it was your daughter, your 9-year-old who is so important to integrate into my Grace's life, how would you feel if someone was flagrantly doing things that you as a parent knew were bad for her and that a court agreed were bad for her?

Fast-forward again to this past Sunday night when I told Grace, "You can go if you want; it's your decision. I guess it's just difficult for me to wrap my head around because the circumstances under which you visited this family the first time and met them were so bad." I explained to her that I won't be able to just forget this episode. I can't get to the point where I feel like the time she spends with this family is good quality time, needed in her life, and a valuable contribution to her development as a person. It comes down to the first decision all of these parties made -- that despite what had been deemed the best thing for Grace at that time, what they wanted was more important.

I find myself asking a deeper question, though. Grace's dad's philosophy of life is sort of a forgive and forget kind of thing. Mercy. Grace. And no, it's not coincidence that our daughter has the name. So he, along with all his kinfolk, have a deep value in moving past things. Don't hold grudges. Don't keep track of wrongs. Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us. But when it comes to my child, the one I am supposed to nurture and protect, I find it counter-intuitive to just "get over it." I'm sure part of this is because this example I've just detailed is not the only event in which I feel like Grace's good was sacrificed for what others wanted. And also because I feel like putting her interests behind the interests of others still happens. And lastly, of course, because I was wronged in the midst of these actions as well. All this put together leads to a deep reticence I have to forgive and forget. I kind of feel like when I finally do meet these people someday, if I ever do, I want to say, "why couldn't you have just been patient? Why was it so important to gratify your own emotional needs and put your wants in front of what was best for a child?"

And so I sit, hoping the trip was not too difficult or dangerous given the weather, thinking about how much Grace really needs to get some missed homework assignments done instead of spending time chatting with a "step-family," wondering whether the 8 hours she'll be in a car will cause her any motion sickness and trigger a vomiting episode, and wishing I didn't have to have any of these concerns.

An infuriating moment in my personal history

As look back on the chapters in my life, there, of course, is a chapter that corresponds to ending my first marriage and sorting out all the resulting loose ends. It lasted about 12 to 18 months, depending on where the start and finish are notated in my mind. One particular event stands out in my mind as when I knew it was coming to an end: meeting Grace's future stepmother.

Now, for those of you may not have been reading my blog for awhile, there are some important details you need to know before hearing this story. Grace's stepmother, Amy, was involved with Grace's father long before I knew that my marriage was in danger. She had come by my house. She had met my daughter. She had played with our family dog. And as we all know, things like that usually don't stop there. She had frequented casinos with Grace's father, laid my hard-earned cash on the table with him, smoked quite a few packs with him, and shared quite a few beds with him. When I did find out, I told my husband that I no longer wanted to live under the same roof with him. Since he seemed to have more options for other beds than Grace and I, we agreed fairly quickly that he should move out. That day. Our divorce was finalized 7 months later. Amy officially became Grace's stepmother two years into her relationship with Grace's father.

When I found out from my ex-husband, then my husband, that he was seeing someone else, I decided I would rather not meet her. In facing the biggest problem of the whole mess, how my daughter would work through the divorce of her mom and dad, it seemed to me that a low priority player in the whole situation would be the woman that Grace's dad had been seeing for a few weeks. Instead, I focused my energy on communicating with Grace's father, her godparents, her grandparents, her aunts and uncles, her teachers, her psychiatrist, her babysitters, our neighbors. All of these people seemed far more important in the process than her father's current flame. Her father disagreed. He wanted to have his girlfriend involved in our divorce proceedings. He told me he felt that Amy loved Grace as much as he and I did. He thought perhaps we should all meet together to demonstrate to Grace that we all were happy with one another.

I found it strange. I should tell my daughter that it's perfectly normal for people in committed relationships to just betray that commitment, and that there's no hard feelings afterward? And that the effects on children of those people is really no big deal? And I should be friends with a woman who had started a romantic relationship with my husband? Um, no.

The divorce was finalized. After about 6 months, Grace's father delivered a typed letter to me in an envelope. It was from Amy. He told me Amy had asked him to deliver it.

The letter was one page long. Amy wrote that it was in Grace's best interest for she and I to meet and work together in parenting. She also addressed Grace's communication and language. Amy said that Grace had been using foul language when speaking to Amy and Amy's mother. Amy wrote that she didn't use this language, and felt Grace must be learning it at home. Because she felt this was not a good thing in Grace's life, she returned to the main topic which was that she needed to meet me in order for us to agree on some baseline parenting rules for Grace.

Wow.

I took about 30 minutes to think about how to respond. When I composed my reply, I simply wrote that I was confused by her communique. Grace's father and I, assisted by two teams of attorneys, a professional mediator, a judge in a court of law, and two professionals dealing exclusively with child support matters, had already dealt with the issues she was concerned about. It was emphatically stated that Grace's parents were primarily, and to some extent exclusively, responsible for what the agreed upon rules for parenting Grace would be. Given that, I wrote to Amy that I found it inappropriate for her to sidestep Grace's father, who had joint legal custody of Grace, and contact me directly about such matters. As for meeting one another, I said that my first concern was for my daughter. Given that Grace knew both of us, it seemed that Grace would be the most logical party to decide when we should be introduced.

I signed off, "Best of luck to you in the future, Heather."

I gave my one page long, typed letter to Grace's father the next time I saw him and asked him please to deliver it to Amy. After I had taken some time to get over my anger and outrage from the letter, I tore hers up and threw it away, and deleted the file of my letter from my computer. I decided there was no reason to ever revisit the experience again.

What ensued was a conversation between Grace and I. She was nine years old at the time, and still quite torn by her parents' divorce. I asked her whether she had any feelings about my knowing or not knowing Amy. Grace explained that she would like to introduce us. I told her that would be fine and that I would talk to her father about when a good time would be for Grace to be able to do that.

The next time Grace's father came to pick her up for a visit, Amy came along. They parked right outside, just as she had done many times before without my knowledge or consent. Grace and I walked down our walk to greet Amy and her boyfriend. Her boyfriend (Grace's father) got out of the car. Amy took her time. She walked around the front of the car. I extended my hand and said, "Hello, I'm Grace's mother, Heather." Without taking off her sunglasses, she replied, "I'm Amy."

And that was that. I didn't see her again for over a year.

The years since have included many ups and downs for Amy. Less than a month after Grace's father had proposed marriage to her and she had accepted, Amy tried to commit suicide and was admitted to the psychiatric ward at the hospital for almost a month. They were married 6 months after that. Shortly there afterward, she became pregnant, and while still in postpartum recovery, she got pregnant a second time. Amy's recovery from the second pregnancy, a c-section delivery, had severe complications requiring a return hospitalization. Finances have been tough, and as a result their family has needed to move a couple times. The children have also had some difficult times medically, and one had to be hospitalized for over a week while still only a few months old.

Given all this, how do I frame the events that happened so long ago? My thought at the time was that she was naive and pretentious, patronizing and foolish. I also thought life would be hard for her in ways she couldn't even begin to conceptualize at that time. I'm sure the experiences she's endured since our first meeting have had some impact on her conceptualization of the world around her. I'm not sure how, since I don't know her at all. I don't even know the basic details of her life, like if she went to college or how old she is, so I cannot even begin to presuppose what her life view and values are, much less how her life experiences may have shaped them. But nonetheless, I'm sure that she has changed in the last few years.

The other day I was thinking, when was the last time I saw Amy? It's been quite awhile, maybe even over a year. Suddenly I realized, it's hard to imagine that I was so angered by this woman. Despite my decision not to meet her or know her, still, I detested her and I wanted nothing but ill will to come her way. Ill will has come her way, but I don't even notice it anymore. It's as if she doesn't exist in my world.

I guess I've learned from the whole circumstance that I should try and look at the life with a wide lens. The people who are so infuriating today may literally be forgotten after a few years pass. And then what was all that emotion expended for? If there ever was a circumstance in which it felt justified to feel furious over someone's actions, my situation with Amy must be one. Yet still, after less than ten years, she has become someone who doesn't matter at all in my life. If this situation turned out like this, I want to try and take less serious situations with a grain of salt. Every moment that I spend raging over someone without them even knowing it or being present is a moment that I have robbed from myself. Unless the rage is helping move me towards positive action, it is wasted, lost forever.

Sweet Little Sixteen

A topic that has been coming up in recent months in the life of my daughter is that rite of passage in the mind of every little American girl's mind called Sweet Sixteen. I believe that this rite of passage is probably more myth than reality, created to make good sitcom episodes in the 80s and movie pitches. Or created by hallmark for profit increases. Or maybe it's a monster as big as the wedding industry conspiracy. Nonetheless, there it is.

I'm warning you, this is petty, but I think it characterizes how much little things are difficult for me. Grace, in I think a typical way, imagines that she will have a big sixteenth birthday bash, and that her parents will throw this gala for her. All her friends will be there, there will be dancing, food, laughing, and fun. And the icing on the cake will be that her parents, along with all their various familial appendages, will be there watching and admiring, and enjoying the common joy they have of this 16-year-old. Her dad has already started talking to her about this and planning a big shabang. (I will remind you reader, that Grace is not yet 15, so this planning has begun 18 months out. Another similarity to the wedding world.) They want to rent out a big place and have a dance party, DJ and everything, and there is some theme I can't remember now. Importantly though, there's an assumption on their part that of course he and his wife and his kids will be there, and of course I and my husband will come, and of course Grace's grandparents and aunts and uncles, and Grace's stepmother's family will be invited...and on and on and on.

With these assumptions, Grace eagerly came to me and told me what they were planning. I was flip. In retrospect, I was also rude and insensitive. I said, 'why are you telling me all this? If your dad and you are planning a party, then that's fine. But please don't tell me all about it since I won't be coming.' She was surprised, and confused, and then mildly crushed. She explained that it wouldn't be a big deal, that it wouldn't be like I'd have to talk to my outlaws. But when you turn 16, you have a big party and your family comes. Everyone. It's just the way it works, right? When a teenager has her sweet sixteen birthday, her family come and just enjoy the party and it's no big deal. No stress.

I have been wrangling with why I am so adverse to this kind of situation. Why can't I just rise above it? We just went through 8th grade graduation and I thought, I just don't want to know who is or who isn't here to watch Grace graduate. I really just wanted to not know about my ex-husband or any of his family who might be there. Why. Why is this. I think this saying of mine crystallizes the point: when people say, 'you just have to stop disliking this family so much' I reply, 'I don't dislike them. I just don't want to know them. I don't want to know anything about them. I want them to be gone out of my life.' That's moving on for me. It's having no presence of my ex-husband or his family in my life, not pretending that I have forgiven and forgotten. But why? Why can't I forgive and forget? Is it just me being stubborn and holding a grudge?

Here's the answer. From my perspective, no one ever acknowledged that my ex-husband's infidelity was the reason our marriage failed and failed quickly. He certainly never acknowledged that it was wrong or apologized, and within weeks of this coming to light he asked me if we could just be friends despite the current separation and impending divorce. I recoiled. With friends like that, who needs enemies? But there's a worse side to this story. You'd expect someone, at least one person, to stand up and say to him, you are wrong. These are ardent christians, afterall. Lordy, these are pastors and missionaries! Did no one have the balls to say this was wrong and he should at least acknowledge that and apologize? But there was never a point at which someone in my ex-husband's 'camp' acknowledged that what he was doing was wrong. In fact, as word has gotten back to me, there was a concerted effort to paint him as repentant and desperately trying to work out things with and to paint me as the rude heartless wife who refused to discuss anything and icily kicked him out of the house, greedily collecting my child support checks and cruelly controlling visitation. The reality was that after being part of this man's family for more than 8 years, he called his parents and told them we were separated, and they cut off contact with me until after the divorce was final. They didn't call to find out if we had enough money, to determine whether what their son was telling them was true, or just to check up and see how their granddaughter was handling the upset. Nothing. Just an expectation that Grace's one-month trip to see them in Texas during the summer was still on, preceded by a phone call in order to discuss the details of that trip. Then three months after the divorce was final, they showed up at my house unannounced and acted like nothing had happened. Just smiles and how-are-you-doings and small talk like it was the goddamn visitation team from the church down the street. And they've been trying to smooth things over as if nothing happened ever since.

I'm writing all this because I'm trying to work it out in my own head. I know I did things that ruined the marriage. I know it was rotten from the beginning. In fact, I'm grateful that the guy confessed to his cheating and wouldn't stop because it provided a simple and easy reason to end the marriage. So I am not a martyr. However, I was devastated by the reality of divorce because it meant my daughter would lose an intimacy with her father. After he left, he never called. He never saw her alone, choosing instead to irreparably integrate the relationship with his new girlfriend/lover into the relationship with his daughter. After a year, I realized that the father I had hoped my daughter would have didn't exist. My daughter gradually began working for the attention for her dad, begging him to buy paraphernalia bearing the words "Daddy's Little Girl." I decided to step out of it, and told Grace's dad that he and Grace should develop their relationship; I wouldn't aid or hinder it in any way. Over time they developed a goofy sense of relating, based on jokes and teasing and dad-daughter flirting. True intimacy was gone. And the rest is history.

Back to the party and being civil and getting over it. I just can't do it. I can't attend events and smile and small talk with people who were so badly behaved, and that don't have the guts to face me in a genuine way. I want to look at them and say, 'why do you want me to be nice and civil and social with you if you never cared about me?' It's like going to church. I can't go to church and sing hymns. I can't in good conscience just sing a psalm to God that contains feelings and expressions that aren't there. I just can't fake it.

So the way I see it, I have two choices. Put myself in these settings (like a 16th birthday party) and be my honest self which won't include smiles and small talk, or I can just skip these events. Given the two options, I think it's just better for me not to attend. I realize that some of these events are unavoidable. When Grace gets married someday I will have to sit next her father and his wife/girlfriend/lover/whatever after he gets the honor of walking the bride down the aisle like he has some say so in giving her permission to be married. But that's one very important event in life; the 16th birthday party bash can be skipped. And I gotta admit, I'm praying Grace decides not to do the big wedding hoopla and realizes by that point in her life how awkward these events are for me.

Divorce and events that shaped my world views

The school I attended from 3rd grade until high school graduation forbade divorce. The employees, teachers, administrators, staff, and rest of the work force there, signed a contract which included a 'do not divorce' clause. My understanding is that the contract for hire included a clause stating that if the employee was married, and then subsequently divorced for any reason, the contract was null and void. The contracts also included other no-nos, like drinking, smoking, dancing, having sex with anyone outside the confines of a legal and religious marriage, and anything else that might be considered sinful in some sect of christianity somewhere in the world.

One teacher taught at the school for many years, maybe 10 or 12. His children were all enrolled as students. His daughter, in fact, was a classmate of mine. He was a great teacher. He was a generally well-liked person, and kind to many. He taught Bible courses that were part of the required high school curriculum. He served as a sort of a moral compass of the school. His wife cheated on him. When the infidelity came to light, their marriage could not be saved. She got custody of the kids. He lost his job. His kids left the school and I never heard about them again.

What I learned from this at the time was that divorce was wrong. No matter what happened, you couldn't get divorced. Divorce is a sin.

Several years later, when I was a Teen-Age Republican Student, I found myself at a club-sponsored trip to a leadership conference held at Rollins College in Winter Park, Florida. We stayed overnight at a mid-priced hotel. I stayed in a room with the other female students and the club's sponsor, a pious woman with a Nancy Reaganesque wardrobe. My two other roommates that weekend were my best friend Dawn and a girl named Vicky.

I didn't know Vicky that well, but she had been attending school with me since 3rd grade. She was awkward and nerdy. The type of person who is an easy target. I had no interest in being friends with Vicky, or even being mistaken to be associated with her in any way. I thought myself smarter than her, prettier than her, more talented than her, and more likely to succeed than her. Clearly I didn't need to worry about being intimidated by her. Yet the irony of the situation is, I was intimidated. I felt I was too close to being lumped up with her 'kind.' Nerdy, awkward, and not worth anyone's time. So it was important for me to make clear to everyone, myself most importantly, that I was not like her and that I definitely didn't like her.

During the evening, just before we were turning in for the night, the topic of conversation turned to divorce. I don't know how it got there, it just did. I don't remember anything of the conversation except for the climax when I stated that there is no reason why any marriage should ever end. Divorce is never acceptable to God. Vicky challenged me and told me I was wrong. And I told her, no, you are wrong.

Vicky abruptly left the bed and went to the restroom, I presumed to finish getting ready to sleep. Moments later the club sponsor quietly told me that Vicky's parents were divorced. I felt embarrassed that I hadn't considered this before saying so much. But then I comforted myself by thinking, 'what is right is right, whether I have the guts to say it or not. If I had known that Vicky's parents were divorced, I might have not said those things. But by not knowing this, I was able to be bold and say what God's true teachings are without fear of judgment or hatred.'

Oh God. I was a martyr, no? I was just the servant of God, obediently speaking truth for the world to hear. That truth is hard to hear sometimes, but it is the truth nonetheless.

Why on earth would a school put a 'no divorce' clause in their employment contracts? If it was not to teach students that divorce is wrong and that you should condemn it, then what was it there for?

What's worse about this story is that my mind is now flooded with the laundry list of 'sins' that I learned were abominable in the sight of God - drinking, dancing, smoking, sex outside of wedlock, gay sex, knowing about sex before you were married, teaching someone about sex who wasn't married, cussing, being friends with someone who wasn't a christian, being involved in a romantic relationship with someone who wasn't a christian, abortion, rebelling against the protective 'covering' of your husband, not punishing your children by spanking, putting children in childcare, being a single parent, having children out of wedlock, IVF through sperm-donor if you aren't married, considering yourself as a woman equal to men....

Is this christianity? Because the people who came up with the practices associated with this theology, the people I learned this from, are some of the most highly respected leaders in the Christian church today and of the 20th century.

Is divorce wrong?

Corrections and Regrets

In the entry titled "Not Again," published August 8, 2008, several errors were included. The executive editorial board of Comparative Childhood regrets the error. They include the following:

• John Edwards is from North Carolina, not South. Apologies to the good people of South Carolina, including Stephen Colbert.
• The timing of Mr. Edwards' affair occurred while Elizabeth Edwards was in remission from breast cancer. The timing of the affair also did not coincide with John Edwards' campaign for the democratic nomination from U.S. President.

The executive editorial board of Comparative Childhood would also like to come clean and make a confession of her own -- her ex-husband was a compulsive serial cheater who, when confronted with his all-night absences and more-than-apparent hangover, confessed to being involved with 10 different people while married to her. Her ex-husband's father, her ex-father-in-law and a stalwart minister of the gospel, confessed to the same shortcoming after being confronted and threatened by the most recent mistress that she would expose him. Actually, it was the mother of the mistress, the ex-father-in-law's personal secretary, who confronted and threatened exposure. Both the ex-husband and the ex-father-in-law were good ole boys who spoke with an earnest drawl and impeccable oration skill, perfected through years of training. So the editor may well be having a knee-jerk reaction to John Edwards and making heavy use of the classical Freudian defense mechanism of projection.

But, since the post of two days ago, the exclusive interview with John Edwards has aired. In it, he stated (earnestly), "I am imperfect. And anybody watching this broadcast or who hears about this who wants to beat me up about this, they should have at it. The truth is, you can't possibly beat me up more than I've already beaten myself up." So I'm having at it. Maybe by doing so, I can work through some of my own shit. And maybe John will read this too, and it'll be like one big pow wow of restoration, or a lovefest of redemption. Or something. Here goes.

At the start of the interview, Edwards is asked point blank, "Did you have an affair?" After some nicities and thanks, Edwards replies: "In 2006, two years ago, I made a very serious mistake. A mistake that I am responsible for and no one else. In 2006, told Elizabeth told about the mistake. Asked her for her forgiveness, asked God for his forgiveness, and we have kept this within our family since that time." Gotta love an attorney. He actually never said 'yes,' nor did he say anything that entailed that he had had an affair. But Bob Woodruff (the interviewer) didn't let that sneak by. His next question was, "Is the affair over?" to which Edwards replies, "oh , yes," so he admits having an affair by not arguing the entailment. But, why word it this way? Why not just say, "I told Elizabeth I had had an affair." Calling it a mistake makes it sound like you put a red shirt in with the whites, or that you forgot you were supposed to be home at 6 to let the dog out and that's why it ate the trash and peed on the kitchen floor.

Woodruff mentioned Elizabeth Edwards' struggle with cancer, and her undying support for her husband's professional goals and then asked the open-ended question, "How could you have done this?" John Edwards explained that he had lost touch with the grounded nature of his early years due to many successive years of superb professional achievement, "...all of which fed a self-focus, an egotism, a narcissism that leads you to believe that you can do whatever you want, you're invincible, and there will be no consequences. And nothing could be further from the truth." Woodruff then asked him, "So your assumption is that you would never be caught?" Edwards' replies, "first of all, it was short. It was a huge mistake in judgment. But, yeah, I didn't think anyone would ever know about it. I didn't. But the important thing is, how could I ever get to that place, to that place, and allow myself to let that happen? And I believe the reason it happened..."

I'm trying to work myself through what I don't like about this answer. To use one of Edwards' favorite phrases: First of all, why does it matter that the affair was short? Moving on, there's a strangeness with the way he says that this state of megalomania caused him to think that he could do whatever he wanted, that he was invincible, and that there would be no consequences. And then there's a subtle wording, which only an attorney could craft and a linguist could analyze, in which he never actually says he did anything. He wonders how he could let "that" happen. It's as if he's talking about a big storm coming and he didn't put the outdoor grill and it got ruined in the rain. If we take to the analogy, his actions were more like seeing the storm coming and taking the action of pushing the grill out into the rain. Again, can you just come out and say it? What is the point of being cagey? This isn't a courtroom, and you didn't commit a crime. Just say it without making it sound like something just "happened."

And then there's something I gotta pick on because I think Edwards is being terrifically judgmental of many women out there without even knowing it. When he's asked whether he loved the woman he had the affair with, he replies "I'm in love with one woman, I have been in love with one woman for 31 years. She is the finest human being I have ever known. And the fact that she is with me after this having happened is a testament to the kind of woman and kind of human being she is. There is a deep and abiding love that exists between Elizabeth and myself." I don't like that he characterizes his wife as being a good person somehow because she forgave him, chose to stay with him in their marriage, and worked through the problems of their relationship with him. Would she have been wrong to tell him to hit the road? If so, why would that have been the wrong thing to do?

This last point really irks me. I think there is this underlying belief that a woman who stays with her husband when he cheats and works it out is somehow more noble than one who says 'hit the road, Jack.' From my own life, I can say that my ex-mother-in-law (who forgave and worked it out with her husband) communicated oh-so-subtly to me that I was doing the wrong thing by telling my ex-husband to pack it up and move it on out. Why is this? Is it misogyny? I mean, really, why should a woman be any more revered for forgiving her husband than for telling him to get out?

OK, now that I've gotten my venom out, I'll move to my praises of John Edwards, conveniently omitted from my last post. As a frame of reference for readers, I believe that public figures should not be hounded like dogs and their personal lives exposed, politicians or otherwise. It is not in the interest of the general public for individuals to lose their right to privacy. Worse, it leads to things like politicians lying. Why did Edwards deny for months that he had this affair? Because he correctly surmised that it would destroy his political career, even though the information would have nothing to do with his qualifications as a leader. This around-the-clock surveillance of public figures and candidates for public office is completely unnecessary and doesn't benefit anyone but the people making money off of it. In entertainment, it's a nuisance; in politics, it negatively interferes (in a massive way) with governance. Done, off my soap box, I'll leave it to someone who has a politically-oriented blog to argue this point further.

More. Good for you, John Edwards, in telling the media that the details of the affair were open to your family and those that needed to know, and not to the general public. And kudos to you for asking your wife not to accompany you to the interview, and not using her as a shield against attacks or a prop to demonstrate your sincerity. Very good, indeed.

OK, I think that clears up things for me, at least.

Not again.

I just feel as if the world's media sources must be tuning in here to Comparative Childhood for inspiration. After I wrote just a few short days ago here about high power professional married men seeking the companionship of no-strings-attached intelligent women, it turns out that South Carolina's favorite son, John Edwards, announced today that he began and continued an affair while seeking the democratic nomination for president, which coincidentally was the same period of time that his wife began treatment for resurgence of breast cancer. What I love best about the story is that Edwards was clear to give all the important details -- he did not love the woman, and he didn't father her child. Apparently someone else in his campaign did. Father the child, that is. It's not reported whether that man loved the mother either.

John, did you think that Elizabeth would think this was a good idea? Do you think she would have smiled if you had told her what your plans were? In choosing this path of actions, did you believe that this would benefit anyone but yourself?

Did y'all know that Elizabeth Edwards is a successful attorney who used her maiden name professionally until 1996 when her husband sought political office? She's a great woman. She's endured a lot throughout her life, and yet continues in each and every interview to shine with optimism and conquer with sane reason. Given who she is and the skills she brings to the table as a woman, mother, and professional, I think y'all can tell what my advice to Elizabeth would be.

John, if you're lucky, she'll let you stay the night before telling you to move out for good.

"Life is short. Have an affair."

So says AshleyMadison.com. Have you ever heard of it? Apparently I'm late to the party on this one. It was reported today by ABC news that ESPN (both owned by the parent company Disney) is pulling ads placed by this married dating service website.

Yesterday I was talking to one of my best friends. She's a businesswoman. At a recent conference, she went out for a beer with a potential business cohort she had met. He seemed likable, a good business person with positive ideas. They shared about family. He's married with two kids. She's in a committed relationship. She excused herself to the ladies' room. When she returned, he moved in to kiss her. She backed away and he apologized. The next day he explained that she seemed like many women he had met through Ashley Madison and thought it would be ok if he hit on her.

OK, let me think this through. He's married, she's in a committed relationship, they've communicated this, they've even shown each other pics of the loved ones...and the logical conclusion is that they should hook up for no-strings-attached sex. Did I miss something?

If you're in a relationship in which you and your partner have an understanding of monogamy and you find yourself pursuing sex outside of the closed relationship, tell the partner. If you don't tell them because you are afraid the relationship won't survive it, the relationship won't survive it. If you tell them and the relationship doesn't survive, c'est la vie. But there is no point in not telling them other than you are a coward. Give your partner the respect they deserve, tell them what your feelings and ideas are, and let them decide the next move with no strings attached.

Oh, and one more thing. I hate this idea that marriage is a different kind of relationship than one that does not have a legal piece of paper attached. Sorry, no. If you are married to someone, you presumably have an agreement with them of some kind. If you change the terms of that agreement in your mind, you need to tell your partner. The paper doesn't mean anything. Again, the marriage may not survive, but that's just life. If you believe that marriage is a lifelong commitment (an open question) and you're pursuing sex with someone else and your spouse doesn't consider that activity to fall within the range of your marriage agreement, you're no longer in a lifelong commitment.

I could go on. I won't. Honest communication always. Open communication. Without it, life dissolves into a masquerade in which it is impossible to tell truth from fiction.

Being a parent makes you see things differently

I just finished previewing Election. I had forgotten so much about that movie. Still love the movie, but no way am I letting Grace watch this while she's a teenager. I think you have to be past the teen years to get the irony and not feel like any of the characters should be emulated.

This movie came out when I was 27 and I had a daughter in kindergarten. Of course I didn't watch it in front of her. I enjoyed the irony and sarcasm. I realize now that I was able to do this and because I was beyond the years of my life in which the character's actions and choices would (a) shock me, or (b) appeal to me.

Angela, from angelawd reminded me in one of her comments a few days ago that there are words worse than the f-bomb. I learned them only when I found my ex-husband's porn. I'm not making this up -- I didn't even know words like c*** and p***y existed nor what they referred to until I saw them appearing in this context. After Angela pointed this out, I suddenly felt better that I never see this stuff show up in my daughter's stuff (email, facebook, myspace, friend's comments). But this stuff shows up in Election.

So does lots of gratuitous teen sex, a blatant disregard for open communication and trust in a marriage, sex between a teacher and a teen student, rationalization of all sorts of unethical behavior (the end justifying the means), and a good dose of encouraging disrespect for others on the part of everyone.

As I was watching the movie and asking myself why I wouldn't let Grace watch it at her age, I found myself less offended by the behavior and much more concerned about the underlying message the behavior conveyed. Sex is presented as something you do for yourself, and objectify the other person. Education is presented as something only losers enjoy and pursue. Marriage is presented as just another thing you do in life, like buying a house or finishing a degree, without any real reason to do it otherwise. The notion that clear communication is something to be pursued is completely absent. Lots of revenge. Lots of manipulation.

I wasn't looking for the movie to teach something. It's a comedy. I wasn't looking for it to edify our lives. We watch plenty of dumb movies (like Blades of Glory). But Election goes one step further in a direction that I, as a parent, can't endorse to my teen daughter. If I endorse it, it communicates to her that I condone these things and that they don't conflict with my basic values in life.

This Easter I get to be a normal mother again

Today's Easter. I've known for weeks that it was coming and as usual I've gotten some feelings of dread. It's just that this time of year brings back memories.

I had so much fun with Easter when Grace was very young. I went out every year and bought her a beautiful basket, decorated it, and filled it with treasures to be discovered on Easter morning. She and I decorated the house. I had an Easter tree and decorated it with tiny ornaments. We put up clings on the windows. We dyed eggs in the coolest ways possible, and I always cooked up some great treats for the special day.

But then, the holiday got spoiled somehow. Six years ago Grace and I dyed eggs alone and we weren't sure where her father was and how long he would be out. He came home much later that evening. He said he had been working. The next morning on Easter, I got up by myself and hid the eggs throughout our house and a few outside in our tiny backyard. When I awakened Grace, she gleefully found her basket and loved the ensuing hunt. But her dad was barely awake. I chalked it up to his working fulltime while also working on a graduate degree. It turns out that there was much more to the story. Grace's dad was starting a new relationship and spending quality time with a new partner. I say "new" and I'm sure that sounds like "new" as opposed to me, the wife. But actually, "new" could also be interpreted as opposed to the last affair of at least 10 he had had without my knowledge. Within a few weeks after Easter, I found out about the current affair (and the many before) and we separated immediately. We were divorced before the calendar year ended. The partner in the "new" relationship became a girlfriend who he moved in with. And until this weekend, that was the last time I got to spend Easter with Grace.

As part of custody and visitation agreement, Grace spends every spring break with her dad. Of course, that always coincides with Easter. The first year that she spent Easter away, I thought I would keep up our traditions and just move the date of celebration by a few days. She went away for spring break, and while she was gone I went about my usual tradition of gathering together everything to make an Easter basket for her. I would give it to her when she arrived back home. Grace spent Easter weekend with the dad's girlfriend's family out of town, and had a big family Easter with them. And the girlfriend made a big huge special Easter basket. Grace came home bubbling with stories and enthusiasm. I smiled through my hurt and told her I had a surprise for her. I showed her the basket, and she said "Amy already gave me a basket" and then left the room and left the basket I had made for her on the table. As if I didn't have enough reason to dislike this woman, now I was really hurt. I had a tradition of celebrating Easter with my daughter and making her a beautiful basket. And this woman took that tradition away. That was the last time I went through any effort to make Grace an Easter basket, and Grace never even noticed that I stopped it. Amy adopted the holiday of Easter, and I no longer had that holiday.

Amy and Grace's dad are married now have two children of their own. I asked Grace's dad if Grace could please spend Easter with me this year. He said yes; I suppose that now he and his new wife have two children of their own, they don't need my teenager during the holiday to make Easter seem special anymore.

I went through so much planning for today, just for the three of us in our little family. Me, my husband and Grace. I made three special baskets, and hunted for the perfect candies. A day ahead, I prepared ambrosia salad and lemon bundt cake and a special loaf of bread made by hand for Easter dinner. I ordered a big tin of popcorn that had bunnies hopping all over the outside. For the first time in years, I actually put out the decorations -- garlands with bunnies and porcelain baskets with chocolate eggs inside and an Easter wreath on the door announcing the arrival of spring. We dyed eggs with much enthusiasm and creativity. We took pictures when everyone woke, at breakfast, at dinner. We smiled, we had fun, we cracked jokes.

I suppose all is better, right?

I'm sad, though, because I realize that I never get those past Easters back. Five years in Grace's childhood, and they are gone now. She had those memories with someone else. And now that someone else has her own two children and will get to build the memories again. But I won't. I won't get to have those lost years back. I just have to accept that my traditions, my hopes, my expectations, were lost. And it's really just me who lost them. Grace had a grand time, and doubled her family and gifts. Her stepmother got a husband and a stepdaughter, and two children of her own. Her dad got to have all the fun times with Grace, going on vacation and to amusement parks, watching tv, eating junk food, and not worrying about the real hard parts of parenting. And I am left with working on homework, teaching Grace how to do the dishes and use her cell phone responsibly, and going to parent-teacher conferences, and volunteering for girl scout events, and worrying about the bad'uns in the neighborhood, and driving Grace back and forth to events, and getting phone calls and emails when she gets in trouble, and looking after her when she gets sick, and figuring out how I will pay for summer camp and viola lessons and college tuition. I figured when you get to be a mom you get to have the good and the bad. But it feels like full physical custody is more like "get child support payments and take care of the bad times." The good times are reserved for the non-custodial parent.

And I lose many of my daughter's childhood Easters. Some other woman got that. It's just not what I got into being a mom for. No matter how long this goes on for, there's just no fairness to the whole thing.