Eh..What's money?

I think the reality of having a single income stream has finally hit home. During the entire divorce process, I was living off of student loans, stock option buy outs and whatever Tony paid into the house. When I left Tony’s house, I was at Bruce’s house and he was remarkably generous and kind when he brought the children and me into his home in a way that did not send me to bankruptcy (and I will be forever grateful to him for helping us in such an important way.)


In October, I became fully independent and responsible for myself, my children and our home. I have never had to carry an entire household myself before. The first few months were sort of a free fall as I had nothing other than some basic furniture. I had to set up a complete household. As I told a friend, I was freaked out because I didn’t even have salt! Well, the free fall has, for all intents and purposes, ended, and the house is hitting equilibrium. It is not the standard of living to which I had become accustomed, but it is a good life. The reality of how tight I have to live everyday is becoming painfully apparent.

When I got divorced, I made a deal with Tony that allowed him to keep the family home. I was extremely aware of how much I wanted my children to be able to keep their routine and home even if that meant that I walked away with fewer resources. (I am not sure that Tony appreciates the fact that I didn’t fight him for every penny that I might have received…) I allowed Tony to pay me over time…with no interested. What I have noticed on my side is that the first payment I received was comforting to put in the bank. It meant that I would survive. However that first payment is now dramatically reduced and I am getting nervous. I find that I draw on it each month. Every time I sit and pay bills, I become more sensitive to my spending habits. I almost never buy lunch and have reduced my coffee runs.

I wish I had a way to understand the best way to manage money with two growing children. Taking them out is a real treat now. And, they outgrow their clothes every few weeks. I want to support their enrichment and get them involved in activities. So, every day is a trade off. Every day brings new decisions. I am trying to teach the kids about choices and long term effects.

Last night as I was scrolling through the channels, I came across an early episode of “Little House on the Prairie” and I thought…wow…life was simple then. Sure, they had to carry water to bathe (and it must have sucked if you weren’t the first one in the bath…) but Ma and Pa Ingalls didn’t have to tell their kids that the generic sneakers from Kohl’s are just as good as the Air Nike’s that their friends are wearing…

Real Dads

Michael came up to me this morning with a magazine that had an ad for a resort on the back cover.  The ad had a family of four frolicking in a lush pool.  He informed me that they aren't a real family and only actors.  I, stupidly, asked him how he knew this. 

"Dad...just look at the father.  He has a six pack.  Everyone knows that real Dads don't have six packs...they are only actors." 

I need a Krispy Kreme....

What's in a name?

One of my greatest conundrums during the divorce was my name. When we adopted Michael, he came home under my last name because I adopted him as a single parent. When we got married, we hyphenated our names. When we did the second parent adoption, we hyphenated his name. However with both of us having really long names, we decided that it would be easier for all of us to go by one name only. After much grueling and agonizing discussion, we opted to drop my last name. When Olivia was born, even though she is my biological child, she has my ex’s last name.


During the divorce proceeding, I had great anxiety about going back to my last name. I knew that I didn’t want to keep my ex’s last name, but I didn’t want to have a name that I didn’t share with my children. Fearful that I would be messing with their sense of identity and making the divorce even harder for them, I didn’t fight the name issue during the divorce proceeding. I took my name back and suffered silently that I felt this large difference with my children.

Michael, however, has taken it upon himself to rectify the situation. He has started hyphenating his name again. I did not encourage, motivate or instigate this behavior. He did it entirely on his own. Last night he told me that he wanted to have his full name back. That he wanted to use both names. The conversation came a bit out of the blue, but he told me that he had this discussion with my ex who quite flatly told him “No” and that he was to use his existing name. Michael asked me to call my ex to see if I could get him to understand.

This puts me in a tough situation. I have a pretty tenuous peace with my ex and I don’t want to break the thin supports that we have…I have worked too hard to achieve them. However, my son is asking for something that I think is critically important and that I fully support. This is one of those parenting moments that I feel no matter what choice I make, I put myself in the firing line. What do I do?

Mozzarella or Dancing?

I am at that critical time. I have been eating well for six days and it is the point where I have the most temptation to scarf down a cheesecake. See…here’s the thing – I have never been good at getting and keeping myself healthy. At least not in the way that American – and gay – culture says I have to.


I am not obese, but I could stand live off the fat of the land for a while. I am not weak, but my muscles don’t have the same spring and power they once did. My doctor wants me to lose 10-15 pounds (and I want it to…if only it didn’t take so much work!).

The real reason for this is that my father, uncle and grandfather were all dead by 49. They were overweight, smoked, high stress, high blood pressure, yada yada yada. I just turned 45. I see my own mortality. I just went to the doctor’s. I never smoked. My blood pressure was ideal – triglycerides are back in check. My stress is not out of the ordinary. I am on a statin drug because, while my bad cholesterol is remarkably low, my good cholesterol is almost nonexistent so the ratio between them isn’t good. Many people would consider me basically healthy. However, I see everything that could potentially be leading up to an early end.

I have two young children. I want to dance at my children’s weddings. I am trying to be consistent so that I don’t leave them without a father. I try to remind myself that I can’t eat that pizza no matter how great it looks, because that dance is worth more than all of the melted mozzarella in the world.

If I had hair....

The kids have been driving me crazy.  I know that some parents would rather be caught dead than to admit that their kids are acting like animals, but the reality can't be hidden anymore.  This morning, I lost it with the little buggers.  Michael has gotten to an age appropriate phase where he screams at Olivia for breathing...usually if it is anywhere near his room.  This only makes Olivia want to break into his haven all the more. 

Olivia on the other hand has become quite emotionally needy.  She gloms onto me as soon as I walk in the door and wants constant attention and interaction.  I guess she thinks that dinner cooks itself and the laundry will walk itself to the washer (Michael's socks just might actually...)

How can it be that I miss them so much when they are not with me but then they come home and I think...Lord help me!

Spring!

I am sitting in my new office which has a door out to the roof deck of our office. Spring in Boston is an experience…much like dating. It is either joyfilled, sunny and invigorating or pouring, cold and harsh. Today it is the former. It is so hard to be indoors and while I watch the white clouds blow through the bluest sky Boston has seen in months. (The joy of an office with a roof deck is that the people in the condos/hotels forget that even though they are up pretty high…we can see right into their windows. Let’s just say the man on the 8th floor of the Boston Harbor Hotel should try underwear…


The other thing that has me motivated is that I finished Miri’s socks, have started another pair and found a great scrap project. I keep all the scraps when I finish socks and through them in a bucket. Every two years or so, the bucket gets to be overflowing and I have to find a home for the scraps…This year, I am making a king-sized coverlet for my bed out of mitred squares of left over sock yarn. One of the reasons I love this project is that it is quick, portable and easy. But the best part is that I remember each pair of socks, who I made them for and why. Having them with as I lay back and relax is really a great thing. So, I find that as I make each square, I think of the person I made the socks for and my grandmother that taught me this talent…Oh how I miss her….

My life is guaged by my use of wool

I have come to understand that I have a meter for how well my life is going...how high my stress is and whether or not I need to refocus.  It is my use of wool.  I have come to understand that my life is out of control, too busy, and unmanaged when my use of wool goes down. 

Feeling wool (or cotton or bamboo or some other natural fiber - you can keep the cheap crap) running through my fingers as I hear the very gentle tap tap tapping of needles is soothing.  there is something primal about feeling the fiber work into something substantial that makes me feel like I have accomplished something.  Those of you that know me well have a sense of how obsessed I can be when I start a new project or creation.  I have to finish it.  I have to smell it and know that this single fiber has become so entwined and complex and has resulted in something I am proud of -- much like my life.  The more complex my life becomes, the more I am proud of it.  I realize that I could not feel good about myself if my life was simple.  It is just not me. 

Ah, Spring...why do you taunt me so?

The warm weather is here...for now.  It reminded me of why I am alive.  For some reason, this winter was tough.  I have never had a problem with winter before...always loving the cold air, the zest from the frost, the warm wools as they run through my fingers with winter knitting.  However this year, for the first time, I struggled.  I felt it hard to get out of the house, feeling like there wasn't enough sunshine, that I was only breathing recycled air. 

Today was a gift.  I went to work without a coat on and didn't regret it one moment!  I think I now understand when people say things to me about how they hate New England winters.  I don't think I am there yet, but I get it.  I am not ready to become a snow bird, but man oh man...Here comes the sun, la da da da da...it's all right!