Why I don't love Mother's Day...

This happens to be one of my absolute favorite pictures...
It represents that one one perfect moment...
that unconditional perfect love...
It's that perfect moment captured, frozen in time!
This is one of those moments that makes motherhood all worthwhile!

I don't love the day for a multitude of reasons.

I remember a conversation I had with my mother when I was quite young, about celebrating Mother's Day. She said she didn't celebrate it. Her belief was that everyday is Mother's Day. I never really quite got it. I would make a handmade card and my father would take me to the florist, or, when I got older, would give me money to pick out some flowers. I seem to remember getting daisies all the time. My mother doesn't like the fussier flowers, like roses and all. She doesn't like anything to be fussy. And perhaps that's why she was never big on Mother's Day. She had one child and I was perfect. :) All kidding aside, I really was an easy child. I knew my limits and very rarely tested them, even in my teen years. I respected and almost feared my mother. We were/are very close but she was the disciplinarian. She set the rules. She was strict and she was tough. But we had fun and laughter... there was lots of fun and lots of laughter. But Mother's Day always fell on a Sunday, as it does now, and Sunday was truly her day of rest and relaxation. My father always sauntered off to the Met (Metropolitan Museum of Art) where he would walk around the world's finest paintings for several hours and I went off to Sunday School. Mom stayed home and did the New York Times Crossword and filled each and every empty square. My father and I returned home by about 12:30 and we'd all have a lovely brunch together and then I would either go play quietly by myself or head off to a friend's house for the afternoon. My Sundays are nothing like this!

Now, I really don't subscribe to my mother's beliefs that everyday is Mother's Day - at all. But maybe I should stop celebrating... or expecting to. But in a sense my mother is right, I suppose. Really, this one Sunday in May is no different from any other Sunday. It's jam-packed and filled with chaos and the same madness that every other Sunday, or day of the week for that matter, has. So you want to go out to lunch? So do all the other mothers out there. Trying to get a reservation to your favorite restaurant can often be as unsettling as the day itself. Trying to get your young children to not bicker, sit still and behave can often be a challenge...

Fourteen years ago I had huge expectations for the day. I thought I would relax and be pampered. I thought the day would be magical - magical in the way we all wish Valentine's Day or New Year's Eve would be. My first year disappointed as did my second... and most that came after. Now I'm not meaning to come across as an ungrateful bitch, but I think my expectations were unrealistically high. In all honesty my husband really tried... I got flowers, lovely breakfasts, gift certificates to salons... all that a tired and exhausted mother could want, but in the end it comes down to the children. Sometimes they cannot be tamed. Whether a colicky, screaming baby or two toddlers fighting or not getting their way... there was always something that put a damper on Mother's Day.

And there were many years I had to share Mother's Day with my ex mother in law. Now, while I like and have always really liked my ex mother in law, I really never loved sharing the day. A relaxed morning would then turn into chaos as we hurriedly bathed and dressed the kids and ourselves to get out the door on time -  of course we were late, year after year. And she always prepared a lovely meal but those meals were also perpetually interrupted by one child or another, or all three. Little children can be controlled to a certain degree... I remember having to leave the table during my meal, almost every year, to take care of a child of mine or all three or mine and everyone else's children. It saddened me and looking back I think I resented it. I spoke up a few times, but I think I should have been stronger in my convictions and spoken up louder. So many Mother's Days ended up in tears... mine. I think, really more than anything, I was looking for a break which is what, more than any gift, an exhausted mother really wants.

So now, after 14 years, Mother's Day, to me is sort of sad and melancholy. Perhaps even more so now, as a single mother. Definitely more now, as a single mother. Like all those holidays that have come and gone, I am sort of wishing this one away. Right or wrong, it's how I feel. And I suppose all those childless mothers out there are screaming at me, telling me that I should be grateful and that bratty or not, whiny or not, misbehaving or not, that I should be grateful. And my heart goes out to every woman that has lost a child or has been unable to have a child... I have known many and I know how hard this day is for them as well...

I am grateful for my three...You have no idea how grateful. There is no love as strong as that love between a mother and her child... whether the child is behaving badly or not. And some days when it seems like nothing is going my way, and I am fighting, struggling to make it through the day, the week, the month, the year... I see my own flesh and blood and they are reminders of how unconditional love really can be, even when they are behaving badly. There's something I say to my children all the time when they are not well behaved or have done something to make me angry. I will say "I may not like you very much at the moment, but I will always love you." And then I cannot help but wonder if mothers still feel that way when their children have gone way way way off track...

I have learned to be realistic. I have learned not to expect too much - I have learned to expect nothing at all, really. I have gotten older, wiser and more sensible. I cannot expect my children to appreciate all that I do. I cannot expect them to understand how much work they are - laundry, cooking, chauffeuring, nursing while trying to build a career and balance the checkbook, nor do I expect them to until they have families of their own. But this girl, this mother, is a dreamer. I admit to wanting the fairy tale. Just as a little girl dreams of her Prince taking her away to live happily ever after, this mother wants, just one day where there will be no bickering, whining, conflict... I want the day that ends happily ever after.

XOXO,

Jessica

Appalled and Disgusted ...

I was recently directed to the following article about Mike Jeffries, CEO of Abercrombie and Fitch on why "he hates fat chicks." This is truly deplorable. It's despicable. He makes me ill.

The article appeared in Elite Daily.

Anyone who’s been to Abercrombie & Fitch in the last few years has probably noticed that they don’t carry XL or XXL sizes of women’s clothing because they don’t  want overweight women wearing their brand.

According to this popular teen clothing retailer, fat chicks will just never be a part of the “in” crowd.

They take a big risk with this tactic because two of Abercrombie’s biggest competitors, H&M and American Eagle, both offer XXL sizes for men and women.

The largest women’s pants available at Abercrombie are a size 10, while H&M goes up to 16 and American Eagle goes even farther to 18.
Abercrombie’s attitude towards plus-sized women derives from CEO Mike Jeffries. Robin Lewis, author of The New Rules of Retail, spoke to Business Insider about the kind of people Jeffries wants advertising his brand.

“He doesn’t want larger people shopping in his store, he wants thin and beautiful people,” Lewis said. “He doesn’t want his core customers to see people who aren’t as hot as them wearing his clothing. People who wear his clothing should feel like they’re one of the ‘cool kids.’”

Lewis said that the only reason Abercrombie offers XL and XXL in men’s sizes is to appeal to large athletes.

In a 2006 interview with Salon, Jeffries confirmed that the communication between hot people is his primary marketing tactic.

“It’s almost everything. That’s why we hire good-looking people in our stores. Because good-looking people attract other good-looking people, and we want to market to cool, good-looking people. We don’t market to anyone other than that,” he said.

Jeffries also told Salon that he wasn’t bothered by excluding fat people. In fact, he said that not limiting his ideal demographic would make his clothing less desirable.

“In every school there are the cool and popular kids, and then there are the not-so-cool kids,” he told the site. “Candidly, we go after the cool kids. We go after the attractive all-American kid with a great attitude and a lot of friends. A lot of people don’t belong [in our clothes], and they can’t belong. Are we exclusionary? Absolutely. Those companies that are in trouble are trying to target everybody: young, old, fat, skinny. But then you become totally vanilla. You don’t alienate anybody, but you don’t excite anybody, either,” he told Salon.

One might wonder why Mike Jeffries only wants to be in the company of good-looking people. That curiosity will end after seeing what this freak looks like.

After seeing a picture of Mike Jeffries, it can only be concluded that he was never around good-looking people as a kid and is now making up for the glamorous youth he wishes he had.

***

Well, Mr. Jeffries, I would rather have a daughter who's a fat chick than a skinny, anorexic slut. And  maybe you should wear and eat copious amounts of makeup to cover up both your hideous looks and personality. Sheesh....(I simply had to Google his image!)
XOXO,

Jessica

Dear Less Than Perfect Mom

via I know hair

The following was not written by me. I found it over at HuffPost. But it could have been written by me... or you or anyone that is or has been a mother to young children. It resonated so strongly that I felt the urge to share it with everyone I know.

The piece was written by Lea Grover and was titled Dear Less Than Perfect Mom

***

Dear Mom,

I've seen you around. I've seen you screaming at your kids in public, I've seen you ignoring them at the playground, I've seen you unshowered and wearing last night's pajama pants at preschool drop-off. I've seen you begging your children, bribing them, threatening them. I've seen you shouting back and forth with your husband, with your mom, with the police officer at the crosswalk.

I've seen you running around with your kids, getting dirty and occasionally swearing audibly when you bang a knee. I've seen you sharing a milkshake with a manic 4-year-old. I've seen you wiping your kids' boogers with your bare palm, and then smearing them on the back of your jeans. I've seen you carry your toddler flopped over the crook of your arm while chasing a runaway ball.

I've also seen you gritting your teeth while your kid screamed at you for making him practice piano, or soccer, or basket weaving or whatever it was. I've seen you close your eyes and breathe slowly after finding a gallon of milk dumped into your trunk. I've seen you crying into the sink while you desperately scrub crayon off your best designer purse. I've seen you pacing in front of the house.

I've seen you at the hospital waiting room. I've seen you at the pharmacy counter. I've seen you looking tired and frightened.

I've seen a lot of you, actually.

I see you every single day.

I don't know if you planned to be a parent or not. If you always knew from your earliest years that you wanted to bring children into the world, to tend to them, or if motherhood was thrust upon you unexpectedly. I don't know if it meets your expectations, or if you spent your first days as a mom terrified that you would never feel what you imagined "motherly love" would feel like for your child. I don't know if you struggled with infertility, or with pregnancy loss, or with a traumatic birth. I don't know if you created your child with your body, or created your family by welcoming your child into it.

But I know a lot about you.

I know that you didn't get everything that you wanted. I know that you got a wealth of things you never knew you wanted until they were there in front of you. I know that you don't believe that you're doing your best, that you think you can do better. I know you are doing better than you think.

I know that when you look at your child, your children, you see yourself. And I know that you don't, that you see a stranger who can't understand why the small details of childhood that were so important to you are a bother to this small person who resembles you.

I know that you want to throw a lamp at your teenager's head sometimes. I know you want to toss your 3-year-old out the window once in a while.

I know that some nights, once it's finally quiet, you curl up in bed and cry. I know that sometimes, you don't, even though you wanted to.

I know that some days are so hard that all you want is for them to end, and then at bedtime your children hug you and kiss you and tell you how much they love you and want to be like you, and you wish the day could last forever.

But it never does. The day always ends, and the next day brings new challenges. Fevers, heartbreak, art projects, new friends, new pets, new fights. And every day you do what you need to do.

You take care of things, because that's your job. You go to work, or you fill up the crock pot, or you climb into the garden, or strap the baby to your back and pull out the vacuum cleaner.

You drop everything you're doing to moderate an argument over whose turn it is to use a specifically colored marker, or to kiss a boo-boo, or to have a conversation about what kind of lipstick Pinocchio's Mommy wears.

I know that you have tickle fights in blanket forts, and that you have the words to at least eight different picture books memorized. I've heard that you dance like a wild woman when it's just you and them. That you have no shame about farting or belching in their presence, that you make up goofy songs about peas and potatoes and cheese.

I know that an hour past bedtime, you drop what you're doing and trim the fingernail that your 3-year-old insists is keeping her up. I know that you stop cleaning dishes because your kids insist you need to join their tea party. I know you fed your kids PB&J for four days straight when you had the flu. I know that you eat leftover crusts over the sink while your kids watch "Super Why."

I know you didn't expect most of this. I know you didn't anticipate loving somebody so intensely, or loathing your post-baby body so much, or being so tired or being the mom you've turned out to be.

You thought you had it figured out. Or you were blind and terrified. You hired the perfect nanny. Or you quit your job and learned to assemble flat-packed baby furniture. You get confused by the conflict of feeling like nothing has changed since you were free and unfettered by children, and looking back on the choices you made as though an impostor was wearing your skin.

You're not a perfect mom. No matter how you try, no matter what you do. You will never be a perfect mom.

And maybe that haunts you. Or maybe you've made peace with it. Or maybe it was never a problem to begin with.

No matter how much you do, there is always more. No matter how little you do, when the day is over, your children are still loved. They still smile at you, believing you have magical powers to fix almost anything. No matter what happened at work, or at school, or in playgroup, you have still done everything in your power to ensure that the next morning will dawn and your children will be as happy, healthy, and wise as could possibly be hoped.

There's an old Yiddish saying: "There is one perfect child in the world, and every mother has it."

Unfortunately, there are no perfect parents. Your kids will grow up determined to be different than you. They will grow up certain that they won't make their kids take piano lessons, or they'll be more lenient, or more strict, or have more kids, or have fewer, or have none at all.

No matter how far from perfect you are, you are better than you think.

Someday your kids will be running around like crazy people at synagogue and concuss themselves on a hand rail, and somebody will still walk up to you and tell you what a beautiful family you have. You'll be at the park and your kids will be covered in mud and jam up to the elbows, smearing your car with sugary cement, and a pregnant lady will stop and smile at you wistfully.

No matter how many doubts you might have, you never need doubt this one thing: You are not perfect.

And that's good. Because really, neither is your child. And that means nobody can care for them the way you can, with the wealth of your understanding and your experience. Nobody knows what your child's squall means, or what their jokes mean, or why they are crying better than you do.

And since no mother is perfect, chances are you are caught in a two billion way tie for Best Mom in the World.

Congratulations, Best Mom in the World. You're not perfect.

You are as good as anybody can get.

With love,

Lea

***

Consider this my early Mother's Day gift to you!

XOXO,

Jessica

Everybody's Free to wear sunscreen...

This was a commencement speech given by Baz Luhrmann to a graduating class in 1999. He did not write the speech, which was picked up from a Chicago Tribune column written by Mary Schmich which then was turned into a successful song. In my excitement for the imminent release of Mr. Luhrmann's rendition of The Great Gatsby, I remembered the fabulous"Sunscreen" speech and felt the need to listen to it. It's so simple and yet so powerful.

We could all use a little sunscreen in our lives from time to time.

***

Ladies and Gentlemen of the class of 99 ... Wear sunscreen

If I could offer you only one tip for the future, sunscreen would be it.

The long-term benefits of sunscreen have been proved by scientists,
whereas the rest of my advice has no basis more reliable than my own meandering experience.

I will dispense this advice now.

Enjoy the power and beauty of your youth.
Oh, never mind.
You will not understand the power and beauty of your youth until they've faded.
But trust me, in 20 years, you'll look back at photos of yourself and recall in a way you can't grasp now how much possibility lay before you and how fabulous you really looked.

You are not as fat as you imagine.

Don't worry about the future.
Or worry, but know that worrying is as effective as trying to solve an algebra equation by chewing bubble gum.
The real troubles in your life are apt to be things that never crossed your worried mind, the kind that blindside you at 4 p.m. on some idle Tuesday.

Do one thing every day that scares you.

Sing.

Don't be reckless with other people's hearts.
Don't put up with people who are reckless with yours.

Floss.

Don't waste your time on jealousy.
Sometimes you're ahead,
sometimes you're behind.
The race is long and, in the end,
it's only with yourself.

Remember compliments you receive.
Forget the insults.
If you succeed in doing this,
tell me how.

Keep your old love letters.
Throw away your old bank statements.

Stretch.

Don't feel guilty if you don't know what you want to do with your life.
The most interesting people I know didn't know at 22 what they wanted to do with their lives.
Some of the most interesting 40-year-olds I know still don't.

Get plenty of calcium.

Be kind to your knees.
You'll miss them when they're gone.

Maybe you'll marry, maybe you won't.
Maybe you'll have children, maybe you won't.
Maybe you'll divorce at 40, maybe you'll dance the funky chicken on your 75th wedding anniversary.
Whatever you do, don't congratulate yourself too much, or berate yourself either.
Your choices are half chance.
So are everybody else's.

Enjoy your body.
Use it every way you can.
Don't be afraid of it or of what other people think of it.
It's the greatest instrument you'll ever own.

Dance.
Even if you have nowhere to do it but your living room.
Read the directions,
even if you don't follow them.

Do not read beauty magazines.
They will only make you feel ugly.

Get to know your parents.
You never know when they'll be gone for good.

Be nice to your siblings.
They're your best link to your past and the people most likely to stick with you in the future.

Understand that friends come and go, but with a precious few you should hold on.
Work hard to bridge the gaps in geography and lifestyle, because the older you get, the more you need the people who knew you when you were young.

Live in New York City once,
but leave before it makes you hard.
Live in Northern California once,
but leave before it makes you soft.

Travel.

Accept certain inalienable truths:
Prices will rise.
Politicians will philander.
You, too, will get old.
And when you do, you'll fantasize that when you were young, prices were reasonable, politicians were noble and children respected their elders.

Respect your elders.

Don't expect anyone else to support you.
Maybe you have a trust fund.
Maybe you'll have a wealthy spouse.
But you never know when either one might run out.

Don't mess too much with your hair or by the time you're 40 it will look 85.

Be careful whose advice you buy, but be patient with those who supply it.
Advice is a form of nostalgia.
Dispensing it is a way of fishing the past from the disposal, wiping it off, painting over the ugly parts and recycling it for more than it's worth.

But trust me on the sunscreen. 

Click on the image to listen to it.


XOXO,

Jessica

Happy Weekend... and a very brief update

I'm just checking in... life has been crazy and throwing curve balls at me from so many directions that it seems practically impossible to not let them all fall and bounce all over the place. Projects are starting to pick up, which is fantastic, but so it seems that my family needs me more than ever and I just can't be everywhere at once or with everyone at once... especially when you have three children calling "Mommy Mommy Mommy" all at once... I need to be better at managing my time. I am still trying to figure this all out. Maybe I will have the answers one day very soon, maybe I won't... If anyone knows how to juggle life and home and career please tell me... I could use a few pointers right now.

I will update soon -

Have a happy weekend.

I hope you all find inspiration in the above.
I just love it!

XOXO,

Jessica

A little about me...

I've learned one very important thing over the past few years. I've learned never to judge others. I've not lived in anyone else's shoes... I don't know what goes on behind someone else's closed doors and I respect that. I started this blog to share my story and my experiences. Sometimes I do use it to vent, but mostly I am using it as a vehicle to share my story with others who are living parallel lives... with those who have been down this road before... who are traveling with me and with those who are soon to follow. There is a lot I don't share for many reasons... safety, privacy and a few other reasons. But it is my aim to tell and share my story, both the triumphs as well as the failures... the obstacles I have overcome as well as the valleys I am so desperately trying to climb out of... It hasn't been easy... I often want to hit the delete button after I hit the post button. But I don't. I don't because in some ways it would be the easy thing to do. Exposing yourself, raw and full of emotion is one of the hardest things one can do. We all want to expose our sunny, happy sides but the truth is the world is not always sunny and the world is not perfect and lord knows that my life and I am far from perfect. I get hurt and I get upset and I want to share that. I want to share partly for support, partly for words of encouragement... and partly because I know I am helping someone else. Often after I've published a post I feel as though I am standing on stage completely naked. It's a very uncomfortable thing.

I am not looking for approval. I am not looking for a congratulations or a pat on the back. But, I don't appreciate the harsh words. If you don't like what I say, you don't have to come here. I know I don't read things I don't like. I would rather spend my time on things I do like.

We all don't have to agree. But we can respectfully agree to disagree. And, maybe, if you see something from a different point of view, you could, kindly, share that with me. I am always open to seeing things from someone else's eyes. It's how I learn and grow. I encourage my children to do the same. I encourage them to be accepting and open minded. I encourage them to listen to someone's story. I encourage them to say kind words even if they don't agree. We all have ways of seeing something and we all react to situations differently. It doesn't make it right or wrong... and no one should be made to feel unjust or wrong because they think a certain way. (This is why I hate politics!)

More importantly than what or how something is said is how it is interpreted.

My daughter and I were having a discussion yesterday and she told me that she didn't like what I said. I replied that what I had said was entirely different from what she had heard... My spoken words were interpreted differently, in a manner I had not meant. I apologized to her. We all interpret things differently and if we don't like something we hear we must speak up. But, we must speak up kindly.

When I write, I can get emotional. I make no apologies for this. It is who I am. I make no apologies for being overly sensitive... for caring too much... for getting depressed from time to time and for speaking my mind. It's taken me many, many years for me to accept and like myself... for me to be comfortable with what and who I am, and now, in my mid-40s I am just about there. I know that my faults and talents and nuances make me who I am. In my 20s and 30s I was constantly trying to change bits and pieces of myself... I wanted to please everyone and make everyone happy. I've now accepted who I am. I've stopped trying to please the world, and you know what? I'm happy. So here I am, unapologetically sharing who I am.

I am open, candid and honest. I am passionate. I am not perfect. I no longer care to be perfect. I am artistic and creative and compassionate. I am a communicator. I love life. For years I hated my wide range of emotions, I now embrace them. I love my children. More than anything in this world. I will do whatever I can to protect them and encourage them to become good, caring and compassionate people. My aim now, is to help them through their crazy and wild and sometimes wonderful world. I want to guide them but I want to do so safely from a distance. They need to have some freedom... some freedom to make their own mistakes and learn.

I am a creature of comfort who is learning to take more risks and step outside of my comfort zone. This is very much outside of my comfort zone.

I'm a kind and caring person who takes things too personally. I work daily to not sweat the small stuff. But everything stresses me. A lot scares me. But I keep going forward. I push myself to do so...

I get angry. I am allowed to get angry. I've been through so much and I've been hurt more than most of you know. But I'm moving onward... I am forgiving those who have hurt me... Forgiveness is good... But I have scars and I have to let them heal and sometimes old wounds open... I am human and whoever reads this needs to understand that. I have many faults but my honesty, candor and outspokenness is not one of them.

Thank you for reading... for understanding and most of all, to most of you, thank you for not judging.

OXOX,

Jessica

Stuck in reverse....

Sometimes nothing defines us better than a song. I've been down and low for a few days now. Much of it had to do with the anticipation of Easter and that this would be yet another holiday where I did not have my kids. I was alone on Thanksgiving, Christmas and now Easter. Even with the aid of attorneys I still find myself with the short end of the stick. How is this only child with no family nearby to be alone yet again for another holiday? Holidays are meant to be spent with the children, or family and loved ones. Not alone. I love to be alone but I hate to be lonely. There's a huge difference. There is no worse or sadder feeling in the world than being lonely. I think I know why more people get depressed and commit suicide over the holidays. I never understood it before, but now that I have had three very lonely holidays I do... I really do.
I dreaded Easter.

I dreaded the anticipation of it and I wanted the day over. But it was the day that n.e.v.e.r e.n.d.e.d and seemed to go on and on and on and on... And even though I was so tired and so sad I couldn't sleep. I was sad that this would be the first Easter in 14 years where I didn't make baskets and hide eggs. That's a lot of Easters and eggs. And all those adorable outfits that I picked myself. And now I had no eggs or baskets within sites. The clothes I bought for my children someone else gets to see... not me... So I feel a sense of sadness, regret, anger and loss.

I want to be with my children. I want to be with my children. I want to be with my children. The day is hard enough... And I find myself sinking lower and lower to the ground... my body is heavier and heavier... the tears, free-flowing haven't stopped in over 24 hours. I've fallen and I can't seem to pick myself back up.

It's been nearly a year now. We will have been divorced a year in just a few days. I thought I would have it all figured out by now. I thought all I need is a year. Somehow my magical number was 1... 1 year. All I needed was a year and I would be on my feet and grounded and I would have all the answers. But this isn't the case. This isn't even close to being the case. And now, as that year approaches I find that I have so much more to learn and so much farther to go and so much more growing to do. I don't have the answers... In fact, I know so very little...

I do know this. The first year is hard and it is challenging. I know that I am still finding my footing and that I am still tripping. For the most part when I stumble I can get up quickly. Mostly the journey has been good - no mostly it has been great. I have met some incredible people and had some incredible opportunities and experiences come my way. But there have been times that have been incredibly painful and sad... there have been times where my foundation has been shaken and I wondered whether or not it would completely crumble and implode... whether I was (am) strong enough to endure. Sometimes I amaze myself and sometimes I disappoint myself. And whenever I think I have everything figured out, I get slapped in the face with a big dose of reality.

And another holiday comes. And I don't expect it to be all that bad but I'm blind-sided by the pain of the loneliness... again. And once again I'm knocked over. But this time I seem not to be able to get up. I miss my  kids. Tremendously. I am kicking myself for switching weekends. This should have been my weekend and my children should have been with me. And then I am mad at myself for not fighting for them. But I didn't. I wanted to please. I like to make people happy. In so doing I caused my own unhappiness.

But you see, it's greater than just the fact I was alone on Easter. I was blindsided again.
My daughter told me that her father was bringing his new girlfriend to celebrate Easter with his family. Suddenly I was enraged. How dare he not have told me first? How dare he sneak behind my back? How dare he do this on what should have been my Easter with the children. I cried all day yesterday and have been crying most of today.

My daughter texted me several times. "I don't want her here, Mom" - "She doesn't belong here, Mom." "I don't want to be here, Mom." - "I want to go home now, Mom." These text were heartbreaking. Upsetting the both of us beyond words. How could one person be so selfish as not to prepare us all? Selfish indeed.

I am not hurt by the fact he has a girlfriend. I have known this for a very long time. Since last summer. Long before the children have. It is a very small world, after all. And I am OK with it all. What I am not OK with is the sneaking and lying that took place. I am not OK at all with how this situation was handled. And now I know why. This woman has never married. She doesn't have children. She doesn't have the knowledge, insight or wherewith-all to realize that there are other people and other factors that come into play. She doesn't have the same knowledge or compassion that someone who has been married, someone who has children has... Two people made a huge mistake. A mistake that will forever alter the way their daughter looks at them and the way I will deal with them. Her relationship with her father is tepid at best at this point. This certainly did nothing to bring them closer or even try to restore what they had. I will no longer be accommodating to all the requests vacations and trips and weekends... He may have thought I was clueless... but I knew... I knew about everything and yet I was happy to please. But I have been crossed. My daughter has been devastated and I have been hurt.

Any woman who has been married knows that the feelings of an ex-spouse are important, and that the feelings of the ex as a mother are important. But she wouldn't know. She has no children and she has never had a spouse. And I worry for my own children because of this. I wish they two had been brave. I wish they could have told me first. It would have been the mature and proper thing to do. And maybe, just maybe I would have said please don't include the children this Easter. Or maybe I would have suggested they do Easter with her family instead. And maybe I would have given them my blessings; and maybe I would have asked to have my children that morning... I have no idea how it would all have come into play. What I do know is this. I have never felt more betrayed or more alone ever before.

I told him it was too soon. It was too inappropriate. The wounds are still raw and the children need to heal and while we have moved on the children have not. Rebecca told me she would have been livid had I spent my Easter with someone else's family. And with that comment she felt that someone who did not belong was spending Easter with her family. I assured her that I would not (did not) spend Easter with any family or any children. The timing is not appropriate. It is too soon... I am not ready to embark on that kind of commitment yet either... The timing is not appropriate. It is too soon.

If there's one thing I can take from all of this, it is what not to do... I do not want to hurt anyone unnecessarily in this process... I do not want to hurt my partner's children and I do not want my partner's ex spouse to go through what I did and to feel what I did... when the time comes, that is...

Meantime, I will wipe my own tears and acknowledge the wisdom and strength that I've acquired from this most recent turn of events... And I will thank the special person in my life for listening to me and allowing me to feel sad and allowing me to express my fears and frustrations to him as I try to figure this all out... for that I am most grateful of all...

XOXO,

Jessica

This is the song that resonated with me this morning....

"Fix You" by Coldplay

When you try your best, but you don't succeed
When you get what you want, but not what you need
When you feel so tired, but you can't sleep
Stuck in reverse

And the tears come streaming down your face
When you lose something you can't replace
When you love someone, but it goes to waste
Could it be worse?

Lights will guide you home
And ignite your bones
And I will try to fix you

And high up above or down below
When you're too in love to let it go
But if you never try you'll never know
Just what you're worth

Lights will guide you home
And ignite your bones
And I will try to fix you

Tears stream down your face
When you lose something you cannot replace
Tears stream down your face
And I...

Tears stream down your face
I promise you I will learn from my mistakes
Tears stream down your face
And I...

Lights will guide you home
And ignite your bones
And I will try to fix you