Dating…a Spectator Sport

Aren't I cute as a Giants fan?

I seem to have a knack for getting dates.  Tobey says I date like others breathe, without even thinking about it.  Charlotte claims that my stamina for dating is astounding.  I think Tobey is probably right because if it required too much effort or hard work on my part, I wouldn’t do it.  And then I would miss out on adventures like the one I just had.

I was in California not quite 24 hours when I was asked out on a date.  For the fun of it (and maybe to provide blog fodder), I decided to change my Match.com profile to California to see if I could stir up a little summer romance while I was on vacation.  I corresponded with just one guy a couple of times before I left and then I hadn’t heard from him.  So I decided to shoot him one more message to let him know that I was in town and interested in getting together.  He responded right back saying that he had tickets to see the Boston Red Sox play the next night in San Francisco, that his buddy had canceled and asked me to join him.  Well, a few of you know that I am a sports fan and I knew that seeing a Red Sox game would make my local friends green with envy, so I immediately accepted.

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Today is the Girlfriend’s Birthday

Today is my ex’s girlfriend’s birthday (sorry to use two possessives in a row).  I know that today is her birthday because it is the day before my ex’s birthday so it is easy to remember.  I also know because Layla likes to write things on our calendar.  She wrote the following.  June 21 the last day of school.  June 23 we leave for California.  June 25 GF’s birthday (we won’t mention her name).  June 26 Udi’s birthday (that’s the name that Jonah invented for his dad when he was young).  That gives you some insight into the importance of the girlfriend in my daughter’s life.

So now that we are in California, without the calendar that hangs in our kitchen, I decided that I should remind her of the date and suggest that she give her a call.  The girlfriend is a very sweet woman who seems to have a special bond with Layla.  They both like flowers and drawing together.  The girlfriend seems to understand Layla’s love of girlie things and bought her a pink tiered tulle skirt (sort of a variation on a tutu) for her birthday.  She also gave her a dress that she had when she was a little girl.  It is clear that she has a generosity of spirit with our kids, which I cannot help but appreciate.

So Layla called her and the voicemail picked up (no one seems to use their phones for talking these days).  She was a little hesitant to get started, like she didn’t really know what to say.  Then she got a big smile on her face and said “I love you.”  Instead of feeling jealous, I felt charmed by my daughter’s tender heart.  She doesn’t know about divorce, dating after divorce, or the fact that the girlfriend is 13 years younger than my ex.  She only understands when someone is good to her.  I tell you…this more love is more love is powerful stuff.

Is There Room for Career and Friends in Your Marriage?

The topic on my mind today is marriage, not divorce.  I was married for ten years, so it’s something I know a little bit about.  Plus, my divorce has me questioning what it takes to have a successful marriage.  Now that I am outside the fray of it, I have wondered what I could have done differently…or what I could do differently in the future.  Ironically enough, I think that I made my marriage too important and too central to my identity and my life.

A friend recently told me a story about a colleague of hers that had just graduated from medical school and had, with considerable effort, launched a six-figure practice.  Suddenly, she gave it up because her husband didn’t like her long hours and said that she didn’t have enough time for him (don’t men often work long hours?).  She said that she had to decide between her career and her marriage.  Now I am the first to admit that you can never really know what truly goes on between two people, but my friend and I both felt sad that she was giving up a successful career that gave her economic independence and a sense of fulfillment.  My friend reminded her that her marriage, while certainly a top priority, might not last forever and that she might want to have her career as a safety net.

Personally speaking, keeping my career intact has not only been important to my self-esteem, but also to the stability of my family.  A year after our breakup, my ex lost his job and has not yet returned to his former income or career status.  My job has allowed us to have health insurance, to keep our beautiful home, and gives me enough expendable income to travel to visit my family and go out with my friends (with a bit leftover for shoes).  While I have tremendous admiration for stay-at-home moms (especially since I have seen how much they contribute to the running of the public schools) and feel that is a valid career choice for women, my own satisfaction is tied to both the happiness I derive from my job and the economic stability that it affords us.  Plus, as many unemployed people note, jobs keep us tied to a larger group of people, give us a sense of belonging to something greater than ourselves, and often give us a social outlet.  A friend of mine who works from home says that he has to do online dating because he never meets anyone because he spends so much time alone.

Now for some people, a social life might not be that important, but I do know that many happiness studies indicate that friendships and community are the keys to a contented life.  In the later years of my marriage, with my job, husband and kids to attend to, I admit that I let my friendships take a backseat and I began to regret that.  For me it is crucial to have people to bounce ideas off of, to laugh and get silly with, and to share my deepest secrets and fears with.  Sex and the City is popular not just because of the open sex talk and the fashion.  It highlights the very real ways that friends enhance, expand and shape our lives.  I now have a group of friends that I love dearly and their role in my life cannot be overestimated.  They provide me with joy and the kind of deep love that I once experienced with my husband until our unrealistic expectations of each other led to resentment and bitterness.  Even my introverted ex hubby has admitted that he feels lonely without his family nearby and without a group of friends (I was the one to maintain the social connections and organize events with them).

I know that I am stepping into controversial territory, and I would love to hear the opinions of my readers on this subject.  Personally I think that a relationship is best served if both partners have a certain amount of financial, emotional and social independence.  One person cannot meet all of our needs.  We’ve always been told not to put all our eggs in one basket.  We need a variety of relationships, interactions and outlets to feed different parts of our personalities and interests.  We need time for ourselves, our partners, our families, and our friends.  Variety is the spice of life, and, as my girl Pink astutely notes, “You taste so sweet, but I can’t eat the same thing everyday.”  While that might sound like a manifesto for polyamory, she’s really just asking for a little space.

I don’t believe Adam and Eve

Spent every goddamn day together

If you give me some room there will be room enough for two.

It’s basically another variation on the Airstream idea.

Zen Mom

Right now I am lounging in the Dallas Fort Worth Airport.  Literally.  My kids and I are perched on these great black leather (pleather?) chaise lounges.  I suppose I shouldn’t be so excited since the addition of the lounges probably has a more sinister intention (to make people sleep here instead of putting them up in a hotel when their flights are canceled), but right now I am appreciative.  The three of us are in route to San Jose, just like we have done two times a year for the past three years.  Jonah, Layla, and Molly…we have become quite the traveling trio.

One of my best friends, I call her Jane (wink, wink), has never flown on a plane with her two children and imagines that it would be very nerve-wracking.  I had the same concerns when I did it for the first time.  Yet, like many firsts since my breakup, the reality of it has been so much more pleasant than the nervous anticipation.  I guess that I worried about being one lap for two young kids, about needing hands for them as well as our luggage, about providing inadequate stimulation for two hungry minds.

However, as has often been the case, I overestimated my ex’s usefulness.  The truth is that he and I never traveled well together.  We were just reminiscing today about the time that we flew out of Newark and missed the exit on the New Jersey Turnpike and had to drive over 20 miles in the wrong direction and back.  We had trouble finding the economy lot and the shuttle was late.  It was a bad combination of events that led us to arrive just a few minutes before our flight was due to take off (thank God this was pre-9/11).  We made it but we were extremely stressed and none too happy with each other.  In fact, I remember swearing on many occasions that I would never travel with him again.  But then we would make it to our destination and we would have fun and I would forget about my angry vow.

My ex also had the tendency to stay up all night before a trip.  Sometimes it was because we had to wake up really early in the morning and he just couldn’t sleep.  After a while, though, I began to believe that it was just his way of screwing with me (ok-I’ll admit that I was probably taking it way too personally) because he would then proceed to sleep the whole airplane ride because, of course, he would be exhausted.

So it will probably come as no surprise to you that traveling alone with Layla and Jonah has been a lot easier.  There was one unfortunate incident on the first trip where I made the mistake of getting on the escalator with Layla in her stroller in front of Jonah and he was scared to board it and did so unsteadily and ended up falling backward back to the bottom, while Layla and I were taken out of his reach by the ascending escalator.  Luckily a nice man came to his rescue and brought him up to join us.  And we have hit our stride since then.

To entertain the kids on the plane I use the typical parenting tricks of keeping us well stocked with markers, coloring and activity books, Harry Potter novels and electronic devices such as the Nintendo DS and my laptop to show movies.  I also make sure to pack us plenty of sandwiches, snacks and, of course, $3 bottles of water.  Layla has sensitive ears so I buy several packs of gum as well, which came in handy today as she lost her pack and howled in discomfort on the descent into Dallas until I found the backup.

I am sure that many of you parents are thinking, big deal, I know these techniques.  Well, then, let me share with you my secret weapon.  Upon entrance into the stressful confines of the airport with its endless lines, crowds, and security checks, I don a different persona.  I call her Zen Mom.  Zen Mom uses the calm, soothing tones of a New Age therapist, a mellifluous voice that is several decibels below my normal speaking voice (let’s not even mention my laughing voice).  Zen Mom is unflappable and refuses to break a sweat or utter a cross word, even when a child spills soda on her lap on the plane (Zen Mom brings extra clothes and has now learned not to allow the children to have their own can).  Zen Mom smiles sweetly and stands firm to the belief that she can ward off any tantrum or crankiness by setting a loving, peaceful tone for the day.  In short, she is a super hero.  Zen Mom stops tears with a single coo.  Zen Mom wards off boredom with a single flash of a smile.  Zen Mom soars 30,000 feet in a single bound.  Is it a bird?  Is it a plane?  It’s Zen Mom.

The other day I told my ex that other passengers often compliment me on how well I handle the kids on flights, and he responded saying that they are just good travelers.  Oh yeah, buddy?  When was the last time you flew with them?  And would you even remember it during the brief moments that you weren’t in a stupor?  You just haven’t seen Zen Mom in action (of course she doesn’t exist much outside of the flying environment).

As I finish this piece, we are currently on the plane and I see a man busily doting upon his three children while his wife is resting.  I am not jealous, though, because right now Zen Mom’s children are peacefully, no … blissfully, sleeping, while she…. I…get a moment to myself.  I’ve got to find a way to bring Zen Mom back home with me.

Do You Know the Way to San Jose?

So today is the day before our big trip to California.  The kids and I are going to spend five weeks with my family in San Jose.  Of course, I should be doing the millions of things that I need to do to prepare for the trip, but I am blogging instead.  I do believe that writing has become my morning constitutional, my way to prepare for the day (I’m trying to avoid the metaphor of unloading, but oops, I just said it).  One of my favorite bloggers, Pretty All True, recently mentioned that she is afraid to skip a day because if she does, she might stop altogether.  I understand the sentiment.  It’s becoming a ritual, and I am already fantasizing about whether or not I will be able to blog tomorrow while I am on the plane.  She also mentions that she worries that the readers will go on with their lives in her absence, and I get that too (as if you dear people don’t have other ways of entertaining yourselves without my musings).  But, never fear, I hear that there is mile high wifi these days.  Maybe I’ll join that club.

I hate the day before a plane trip.  I feel so ungrounded, like I am neither here nor there.  I have so many little details to attend to, I am feeling sad about leaving my wonderful friends, I am wondering how I will ever sleep without my bed for five weeks, I am worried about how my ex will hold up without the kids for that long.  I know.  I’m being a silly whiner.  Who wouldn’t want to take a fabulous trip to California?  Once I get there and am with my energetic, fun-loving family and get to bask in their love, I will be so happy (isn’t it annoying that I didn’t have a torturous childhood?).  It’s just the transition day that bothers me.

My yoga teacher is always reminding us to “be present” in the transitions between the poses, and he pontificates about how that applies to our lives off the mat too.  I am always thinking,  “It’s vinyasa flow.  There are like 5 seconds between the poses.  It’s not that hard to focus on the present for 5 seconds.”  Today I have a whole day to think about my future trip and what I need to bring to make it fun and to get nostalgic about how much fun I have had with my friends lately and how much I will miss them.  I’m not really here.

On top of that, I can’t help thinking about how all of my life I have had a hard time with the notion of change.  Once it happens, I find a way to be really excited about it and it always leaves me feeling refreshed, but while I am going through a transition I have the tendency to be anxious.  I know you are wondering when I am going to get to the part of this piece that has to do with my peaceful divorce, and here it is.  The most difficult time of my life, hands down, was when my ex told me that he was moving out but hadn’t done so yet.  That month or so, which seemed like an eternity, was the most awful transition of my life.  I was depressed, I felt like a failure, I kept thinking of reasons why he should stay.  We made a horrible family trip to IKEA to buy him new furniture (Why the hell did I suggest that we accompany him?).  We spent a whole day crying together at Jonah’s ballet performance.  I made sure to keep the kids out of the house so that they couldn’t see him moving his stuff out.  It was bad.

Once he was gone, though, I felt this tremendous sense of peace come over me.  There was no more tension in my house.  I could breathe again.  My kids and I felt a new sense of bonding.  We were now a trio instead of a quartet, and you know what? We sounded good.  I felt a delicious sense of freedom that I had never anticipated.

So maybe I am not so skilled at these transition times.  Despite yoga five days a week, I still haven’t mastered Brandon’s motto about staying present.  But the good news is that I can do the poses.  I am skilled at making change my friend.  I can make lemonade out of lemons.  I just don’t like making a shopping list of things to buy and thinking about the utensils I’ll need to make it and any other prep work.

So instead of being fully present in Northampton today and focusing on the tasks at hand, I am singing in my head that great Burt Bacharach ditty, popularized by Dionne Warwick (or Nancy Sinatra, depending on your favorite version).  “Do you know the way to San Jose?  I’m going back to find my piece of mind.  San Jose.”  I know.  It’s not as cool as a Pink song, now is it?