15 year old Rocky woke me up this morning to remind me that she was going to the midnight premiere of a movie tonight.  Midnight premiere, as in 12 o’clock midnight, as in 3 hours after her school night curfew? 

I don’t think so!

“But mom, you said I could and I’ve already made plans!” she protested.

First of all, I would never agree to her going to a midnight screening of a movie on a school night so I’m thinking she left that little detail out when she asked me… and secondly, quite honestly, I don’t remember hearing any definite plans on the subject.  I know she wanted to go with her boyfriend but I don’t recall her ever giving me a date.  And I know I would never have agreed to letting her go on a school night.

It’s the old play on memory routine, one I used on my own parents many times in the past.

“Don’t you remember?  I asked you a long time ago and you said it was okay!”  says the child with an innocent and sincere looking face.  Of course, guilt stricken, the parent racks it’s brain and shuffles through scattered memories to replay the conversation but to no avail.  However, in order to save face, the parent feigns recollection and even parts with a couple of extra dollars of apologetic ‘hush money’, and the child skips away happily.

Except, I know for a fact I never would have agreed to a midnight movie on a school night.  Daughter argues, I argue louder. Daughter bursts into tears.  I burst into tears.  I give in and tell her to go.  She sniffs and says she doesn’t want to go any more.  We apologize and hug, wiping tears and snot on each other before she departs for school.

I’m not sure who came out the winner in this one, but I’m thinking that my youngest daughter will probably be at the midnight premiere of a movie when I get home from work tonight… and if I fuss about it, she will say “Don’t you remember?  You said I could go this morning!”

I hope she grows up to have lots of children… just like herself!

It has been almost 2 months since my future ex informed me that his ‘happily ever after’ did not include me.  During that time I’ve experienced a wide variety of emotions, many that I have never felt before.  Helplessness, hopelessness, uncertainty, hurt, confusion, jealousy, resignation, anger and finally most recently, confidence.

Rocky, my youngest, asked what ’she’  was like, and how old her children were.  She was hoping that she would get a younger step-sister and no longer be the baby in the family.

Step-sister… step-mother… wow.  I had never even thought about that.

Not only had this woman taken my place in my husband’s life, she would also be squeezing into my space in my childrens’  lives.  The thought sucked the breath out of my lungs and left my head spinning. 

The thought also renewed my determination to find Aladdin’s lamp.  We’ll see just how great of a step mother she can be while sitting on a lily pad at the pond. 

Ribbit!

Life is what you make it.  I have always believed that.  I still believe that.  I’m just not sure what to make of the new direction my life has been forced into.  In just over a year I will reach the golden age of 50.  As little as 5 weeks ago that was a source for excitement for me.  Now… not so much.

In just over a year I shall be dealing with being a single parent and divorcee at the age of 50.

My husband of 25 years is in love with someone else, his childhood sweetheart.  Under normal circumstances that might be considered romantic but these are not normal circumstances.  They are both still married to the spouses they chose after breaking up a quarter of a century ago. They reconnected late last year and realized that they still loved each other.  They have decided to wait until the last of their school aged children have graduated (how considerate!) before getting their divorces.  Then they will be free to live happily ever after.

I think I’m going to puke!

Actually I’ve been very civil about it all, maybe even too civil.  I haven’t requested that my husband vacate the premises and have even let him keep the master bedroom while I’ve moved downstairs to a mattress on the floor.  My future-ex and I actually have a better relationship now than we have had in years.  I could have lived happily ever after like this… except he’s in love with her.  And he has it bad.  It’s the starry eyed, day-dreaming, waiting-for-the-next-text-message-then-pouncing-on-the-cell-phone-to-read-it kind of love, and I wonder… did he ever love me like that, or has he always been in love with her?

I feel like cake.

You know that old saying ‘You can’t have your cake and eat it too.’  Well, that isn’t always true.  All this time I thought I was the only cake in his life.  I let him eat through the frosting, revealing everything underneath… the good, the bad and the ugly.  He’s seen me at my best and my worst.  For 25 years I have followed him and let him take from me what he wanted.

Until now, when I’m just a pile of crumbs on a plate and he’s got his eye on a new cake… elegantly frosted with memories of the past and promises for the future.  He doesn’t know what’s under the frosting, he only knows what she tells him but he doesn’t care.  She represents a time in his life when he was most happy and he wants it back while he’s still young enough to enjoy it.

People remark on how well I am taking this.  They think I am ‘graceful’ in my acceptance.  Not at all.  I just don’t want my kids to get stuck in the middle of an ugly battle that they don’t deserve to be a part of.  I don’t want them to feel they have to choose sides.  This one is between him and I.

I thought my marriage was a fairy tale marriage and he was my Prince Charming… my knight in shining armor.  I thought my life would end ‘happily ever after’.  Now I find myself searching for a genie in a lamp so I can have a wish… I don’t need 3, 1 will do.  And when I find that damn genie there will be two new bullfrogs down at the pond!

In the mean time I’m just plugging along, enjoying the benefits of his guilt.  (He is very generous when he’s feeling guilty.) I’m trying very hard to hate him. I know I should and I have every reason to, but the truth is that I still love the guy.  I always have and probably always will (even when he’s just a fat bull frog catching flies at the pond with his fat amphibious childhood sweetheart).  I’m not too worried about the kids.  My youngest, who is 14, actually seemed relieved when she heard about the pending divorce.  Ironically it was my oldest, my 24 year old son who recently got out of the military after 2 tours in Iraq, who has taken this the hardest.  The others are more interested in what’s for supper than what’s going on between my husband and me, and that’s fine with me.

I just really resent that he’s eaten clear through my frosting and left me with just crumbs to get through the rest of my life while he gets to enjoy ‘her’ frosting which has been solidly intact all these years.  Of course they won’t have children to clean up after.  They won’t have to make financial sacrifices to pay for band uniforms or field trips.  They won’t have to deal with fatigue at the end of the day that leads to endless sexless nights.  That will all be behind them.  Heck, if I didn’t have to deal with all that I’d be one heck of a fully frosted 3 layer cake… complete with roses and candles!

I hope when he finally bites into it he finds that her cake isn’t that great after all… that she’s bland and tasteless or heavy and  maybe too sweet.  Or better yet… moldy!  And perhaps he was better off with me and my crumbs. 

As for me… I’ve lost my taste for cake.  I’m actually enjoying the attention I’m getting from the kids who are busy making plans on how they are going to take care of their mother.  I don’t need help taking care of myself at this point, but it sure is nice to know I’m loved and wanted.  One day the kids will get to take turns changing my Depends, but for now I think I’m going to focus on enjoying being single again.

And I continue my search for Aladdin’s lamp.  I know that genie is out there somewhere, and when I find it, there will be two new bullfrogs at the pond down the way.  I hope they like cake.

I never really felt ‘old’ until the day , 13 years ago, when my then 5 year old daughter asked me:

“Mommy, were there dinosaurs when you were little?” 

“Oh yes”, I replied with exaggeration… “We used to watch the T-Rex chase the triceratops around the field outside our cave!”

“You lived in a cave?” (When will I learn that sarcasm is wasted on children?)

“Of course, how else could we survive the ice age?”

“Was it cold?”

“Not after the volcano erupted and melted the ice”

“Nuh uh… you’re lying!”

“Oh yeah, and how do you know I’m lying?”

“Cos the ice age put the volcanoes out… so the volcanoes didn’t melt the ice age.  Is that why you have blubber, to keep warm?  Jack Crust-toe says that whales and walruses have blubber to keep them warm.  Are you an Eskimo caveman-lady?”

Between the blubber, Jack Crust-toe (Jacques Cousteau) and the caveman-lady I was having a heck of a hard time keeping a straight face and finally confessed that I was not around when the dinosaurs roamed the earth, but I packed a healthy layer of blubber just incase the ice age came back and I’d have to become a caveman-lady until the volcanoes could melt the ice again. 

Becca is going to be 18 in a few months.  She knows more about dinosaurs, volcanoes and the ice age than I ever will.  Sometimes I watch her and my other kids and wonder what kind of children they will have… and what kind of parents they will be for them.  I hope they are blessed with wonderful children like the ones I have.  I hope that even if I haven’t been the greatest role model as far as housekeeping and intellect goes that they take my laughter with them and share it with their own children. 

And I hope that one day Becca has a little girl who will ask her about dinosaurs, caveman-ladies and blubber!

My husband Steve went on vacation this weekend… without the family.  He didn’t even invite us.  More importantly, he didn’t even invite ME!  His initially plan was to take my fuel efficient car, but when I suggested that he take a couple of the kids with him and maybe even the dog, he had a sudden change of plans and bought a plane ticket instead.

I shouldn’t complain.  I left him home with the kids when I flew home to Hawaii for my parents 50th Wedding Anniversary two years ago.  Of course we didn’t have our nephew at the time, nor the dog and therefore I shall complain, vehemently!

Steve is not being very sympathetic or apologetic at all.  He sends a steady stream of  text messages and pictures via the cell phone of him here and him there; of him eating this and him eating that!  (Okay, he may have gotten the idea from my visit to Hawaii when I bombarded him with pictures of the many feasts I had engorged myself at) He and his brother did this, he and his sister are going to do that!  It’s making me sick!  (and green with envy!)

I’ve been working the entire time.  My house is a mess.  It smells like a wet dog.  There are no clean dishes in the house.  The closest to a conversation I’ve had with any of the kids lately is ‘Hi’, or ‘Bye’ as we pass through the revolving front door.  The dog hangs her head down like a vulture making me wonder where her ‘guilty conscience’ is hiding.

Upon his return I shall meet my husband in the doorway, tossing him a quick ‘Bye’ in response to his ‘Hi’, and I shall embark on a vacation of my own, without kids, nephew, husband or dog.

Oh, who am I kidding.  Even after all these years I have a hard time enjoying myself unless I am sharing it with the kids.  It’s a mommy thing, a Mother’s Curse of sorts.  I’m thinking Estes Park is probably very beautiful this time of year and all the babies should be out and about.