My Oxygen Mask

This past holiday weekend the ex took the children for FOUR days straight. While I still feel a tug at my heart, I have passed the stage of crying when I see them go with their father.  Yes, I miss them when they are gone, but I now welcome the freedom, even if it is brief and sporadic. I could use the break and I know that they benefit too.  Of course time with their father is important as well.

Since the divorce I have repeatedly read and heard others say that it is essential to care for myself during this difficult transition.  When the plane is going down, first apply the oxygen to your own face before assisting others I am constantly being reminded. I get it and it makes perfect sense, but I simply have not figured out how this translates in real life.

Am I supposed to hit the bars and start looking for men, because I am quite confident that is not what I want at this stage of my life. I do not know if I ever truly enjoyed that scene. Besides, I have three babies and they are my priority. Nor do I have money to burn on nail salons or other beauty treatments.  Similarly, shopping is not an option and walking around a mall penny-less is a drag. Frankly I cannot think of anything I even want if I had money. And while a movie would be a much-needed mental escape, paying for a movie ticket these days leaves me riddled with guilt when the money could be spent on necessities.

So I continue to do what I have done since the first time the children went away. I clean, I purge closets…I go OCD on the entire house and it makes me feel good. I grocery shop, taking my time in each aisle, considering every purchase instead of racing through the store as quickly as humanly possible with three kids in tow. I get a head start on the next week by wrapping presents for upcoming birthday parties and taking care of other errands that would make for a stressful lunch hour. I am grateful for this opportunity to just do what needs to be done without the added chaos of getting kids in and out of car seats.

Yes, I could spend time with friends and I do on occasion. However, on these rare weekends I am not anxious to commit to anything or follow a schedule and my ex is not exactly predictable with his visitation making it difficult to plan ahead. Besides, my friends all have children and being with other peoples’ kids without my own is not easy. And no, I do not know any divorced women in my situation, nor do I know how to search for new friends (hmmm…I wonder if there is a website for this yet?).

An observant Jew once told me that we are commanded to feed and care for our animals before we feed ourselves. While I am certainly not calling our children animals (though I often comment that they follow instructions like cats) I absolutely agree that since they are dependent upon me for everything, I must put them first. So as I sit here awaiting an oil change, I have no regrets about how I spend my free time. Am I living the dream?...probably not by others’ standards, but I know that like everything, this is temporary. By making the children my focus I am also doing for me as well as them. I like to think that I am providing oxygen for us all simultaneously. 

Our Artist

Since he could speak, our first-born child has confidently proclaimed that he will be an artist when he is grown. Recently he laid out his detailed plan of how he will reach his goal…finish kindergarten, go to high school, then college and finally art school.

I think it sounds like a grand idea and I am completely supportive of anything he wants to do, with the exception of riding motorcycles and playing football of course. (But he knows these two activities are off limits already). Though I am clearly biased, I am sure he has a good shot at achieving his dream…he is a talented, creative kid with art in his genes.

But he received his first rejection the other day and I saw another side of him. The child who is quick to talk back to me, who often appears cocky at times, strutting around the playground as if he is ruler of the world, showed a softer side when his classmates misinterpreted his Thanksgiving turkey project.

The assignment was to disguise the black and white turkey so that the bird could escape being eaten on Thanksgiving Day. His twin brother decided the best camouflage was the planet Earth and he successfully transformed his turkey into a sphere of blue and green. 

The aspiring artist however, decided to turn his turkey into a baseball by drawing red lines vertically through the turkey. I admit that like his classmates, I failed to see a baseball and I struggled with whether or not to tell him, for fear he might be upset. I also had to fight the inclination to “fix” his work. I knew with a few minor changes we could create a baseball out of the red lines. But ultimately I kept silent and he submitted his project as it was.

The day his work was shared with his class, he came home, climbed on my lap (a very rare sign of affection) and shared that everyone thought his turkey was bleeding. No one saw a baseball. I hugged him, like any parent would do, and tried to absorb all his pain. The damage was done though.

So yesterday I checked out a massive book on art from the library. Together we flipped through it, randomly stopping on pages to consider whether we liked the work or not. We talked about why some paintings and sculpture appeal to us, while we dislike others and I tried to explain that there would always be people who misunderstand our work or who say not nice words that hurt us. 

I am not sure whether my message was received. He was so engrossed in the book and the diversity of the art that he lost interest in our conversation. But as I watched his eyes widen in astonishment at one particular picture, I had a feeling that he was not making any career change just yet.

Someday

Oh blog....I had such hopes for you, alas, I have let us both down. I simply do not have time for you. The ex rarely takes the boys these days and if I am not working I am caring for them. Someday soon I hope we can catch up, as there is much to say.

Someday.

Sigh.