Posted by: Tricia | Monday, July 2, 2007

Breathe in, breathe out

I just got the RK tucked into bed, after turning down his request to sleep in my bed tonight. He says he doesn’t like being alone. I promised him he could sleep in my bed tomorrow night.

He had been watching Nick, so when I got back downstairs, I decided to turn on the Sirius country radio station on my Dish. And the song playing is “Bring It On Home” by Little Big Town.

You’ve got someone here
Wants to make it all right
Someone that loves you more
Than life right here
You’ve got willing arms that’ll hold you tight
A hand to lead you on through the night right here
I know your heart can get
All tangled up inside
But don’t you keep it to yourself

When your long day is over
And you can barely drag your feet
The weight of the world
Is on your shoulders
I know what you need
Bring it on home to me

You know I know you
Like the back of my hand
You know I’m gonna do
All that I can right here
Gonna lie with you
Till you fall asleep
When the morning comes
I’m still gonna be right here
Yes, I am
So take your worries and
Just drop them at the door
Baby, leave it all behind

When your long day is over
And you can barely drag your feet
The weight of the world
Is on your shoulders
I know what you need
Bring it on home to me

Baby, let me be your safe harbor
Don’t let the water come
And carry you away

When your long day is over
And you can barely drag your feet
The weight of the world
Is on your shoulders
I know what you need
Bring it on home to me

Oh, bring it on home
Yeah, bring it on home to me
Home to me
Oh, bring it on, bring it on home
to me

You’ve got someone here wants
To make it all right
Someone that loves you more
Than life right here

This song was on the charts last summer. I remember it’s one of the very first songs I bought on iTunes for my brand new iPod.

Last summer was unforgettable. I was living in my very first home. Brand new. My husband was so very distant, always emotionally, and sometimes physically. He was here, then at the hotel. Then here again. Sleeping on the couch, sleeping next to me while I was tortured by his constant infliction of pain, sleeping in a bed miles and miles away.

All while we were expecting the arrival of our second child. I had been diagnosed with gestational diabetes, so my life was also consumed with finger pokes, insulin injections, and craving the forbidden joy of french fries and Dairy Queen. And always feeling like complete shit that I just wasn’t strong enough to give up smoking even though I was harboring a brand new precious little soul in my belly.

I desperately needed a rock. A shoulder. I desperately wanted to be his rock. And this song absolutely reached deep down inside me and touched a nerve that was so fragile and raw, I could hardly listen to it without giving in to the tears that were always at the point of spilling at a second’s notice.

I tried to play this song for him and convey to him that that was exactly how I felt about him, but he had no capacity for allowing music to touch his soul. Especially if it touched mine.

And hearing it just now sent me right back to last summer. And reflecting on what all has happened since then.


I’m so sorry I haven’t been back to let y’all know how things went on Thursday. I’m ending one of the most stressful and exhausting weeks of my entire life, and I just didn’t have the strength or the energy to try to put it all in print until now. And even now I’m still emotionally exhausted and utterly drained.

I made it to the courthouse on Thursday about 10 minutes ’til 2, and as I reached the top of the stairs, I immediately saw the IH waiting for his attorney to show up. He was wearing a nice polo shirt and khaki slacks, and I thought he looked so handsome. And that damn goatee…

…back when we first started dating, he decided at one point to grow a goatee. And he looked gorgeous. But soon after he got a promotion at work, and he decided to shave it.

And he didn’t decide to grow another one until after we’d moved into the house last year. I told him how hot I always thought he looks with it, and he once again decided to shave it off. Now he’s had it again for months. And it pisses me off that I have to see him looking so handsome for another woman. I just don’t understand…he’ll keep it for her, but not for me.

Back to Thursday… I couldn’t even look directly at him. I didn’t even acknowledge his presence. I just couldn’t. And he made no approach to me. We still had some issues to muddle through and come to an agreement over, so I waited for my attorney, and he waited for his. And they did all the talking. We finally settled on the last sticking points (I’m not getting nearly what I wanted for child/spousal support, but it’s still enough to put a big hole in his wallet every month.), and then we had to go into the courtroom and state it all into the record. I’m still not acknowledging his presence at this point.

The court reporter swears the IH and me in to tell the whole truth and nothing but, and then my attorney starts asking me all about the terms we’ve agreed upon. I answer “Yes” or “Correct” to each one as she rattles them off. Except there at the beginning when she gets to the one about no chance of reconciliation being present, I answered, “Apparently not.” When she got to the part about his parenting time, it took me a minute to get out the ‘yes,’ and my voice cracked as I said it.

I had never been in a courtroom before. It was sheer hell. I was so glad to get out of there and away from him. I was so exhausted at this point. But anyway, all that has to happen for this to be done and over with is new papers with the final draft of our agreement drawn up and signed by him, me, and the judge. And the judge said he’d have them signed by July 30.

And then I won’t be married anymore.


I wanted to try to get the goody bags for the RK’s party stuffed that night, but I was done for the day. Couldn’t do anything else productive. I was basically in a zombie state for the rest of the day, capitulating to the idea of McDonald’s for dinner because I couldn’t stand the thought of going into that kitchen to cook something. I put the IB to bed way early, because he didn’t have a nap at the neighbor’s, and he was exhausted, too. And I certainly wasn’t in any state of mind to be a good mommy to such a tiny, precious, needy little soul.

One thing we did, though, was go check out the subdivision’s clubhouse where the RK’s party was going to be the next night. And there’s a pool table in there, so we took off the cover and I taught the RK how to play 9-ball. That was kind of neat. I wish there was some sort of open access to the clubhouse from time to time so that pool table could be enjoyed a little more.

So the next day, I had to watch the girls of the neighbor that watched my boys for me the day before. We have a nice agreement like that, but on this particular day, I really wish I could’ve found a way out of it, given that I had a party to get ready for all by myself.

And the IH took the day off to spend time with the RK on his birthday. A few days before, I had asked if he could take the IB too, so that way I wouldn’t have him to worry about while I got ready for the party, and he said sure. But Friday, he had somehow managed to forget that part. That pissed me off to no end. He took the IB without an argument, though. So then my day went like this:

  • Call the pizza place to order pizzas for that night
  • Drive to Sam’s to pick up cake and ice cream, a veggie tray, industrial-sized bag of salad, and candy for goody bags
  • Drive to grocery store for 2-litres of Coke and veggies for aforementioned industrial-sized salad
  • Drive to party supply store to pick up balloon bouquets and struggle to get all those damn balloons into the car at the same time without getting them all tangled up together (keep in mind that ice cream is still in the back seat melting away)
  • Head straight to clubhouse to get cold stuff in fridge/freezer (I turned the fridge to the coldest setting hoping to get the beer cold faster, but it was still warm by the time the party started. So I stuck it in the freezer. And no, none exploded.)
  • I sat down at the kitchen bar and made a list of everything I wanted to bring from the house. Some of the highlights were the ladder (to decorate), knife/cutting board for the salad, the IB’s chow chair, boombox, broom/dustpan. And lots of other little things. I had the back of my car totally full by the time I got all this stuff in there.
  • So now it’s around 4:00. I get to hanging streamers, and banners, and placing the balloon bouquets in different locations (after getting them untangled) to see what looks the best and most festive. I’m pretty on-track. I’m quite proud of myself at this point.
  • I really wanted to head back to the house to put on some makeup, but didn’t get done until it was about 20 ’til 6. Oh well.

And all this time, I’m periodically getting text messages from the IH saying they’re stuck in traffic. They had gone to the zoo (the Detroit Zoo, which is closer to where we used to live, rather than the the Toledo Zoo, which is much closer to where we live now. Dumbass.), and were stuck in traffic on the freeway that always gets horribly backed up at quittin’ time. Not to mention it’s Friday of a holiday weekend. And then they go through a very well-publicized batch of construction on another freeway. So the RK didn’t show up to his own party until about 30 minutes after it started.

The IH informed me I had only left one diaper for the IB in his bag, so I asked him if he could run back to the house for me to grab a few. He gets down to the house, and he can’t get in (I changed the garage door code and confiscated his remote and housekeys the day he left). So I drive down there and get the diapers myself. He takes this opportunity to ask me if he’s supposed to stay for the party or not. I say, “Pssht! No!” I can’t believe he’d want to stay, given that everyone in that room thinks he’s a lying, cheating, sonofabitch scumbag. Oh, let me add stupid to that list.

The party went great, though. The pizza was on time. The kids had fun playing with the pool table, and swimming. And running around like little banshees. The grown-ups had fun. The RK had fun and got great presents (including 3 Nerf guns, all different. PERFECTION.) I had amazing help with the IB from my wonderful neighbors who wanted to come help my firstborn celebrate his tenth birthday. They basically traded off with him over the course of the night. I even found a strange diaper on him when I got him home that night. I actually kind of missed him by the end of the night…I hadn’t hardly seen him at all that whole day!

Two moms ended up staying late into the night while all our kids played, and we drank some more of the beer and chatted. It was great.

The IB was sleeping in his stroller, which was pushed into a dark little corner. He woke up screaming around 11:30, so that’s when we all decided to call it a night. I decided to go get my kiddoes in bed and go back up the clubhouse to try to finish cleaning up. The IB was so completely frazzled and exhausted from his schedule being completely thrown out of whack the last two days, he got quite a screaming jag going that a bottle of formula couldn’t even soothe. I finally decided to just put him into his bed and let him cry it out. Nothing else was going to work at this point. And by the time I brought the first carload of stuff back to the house, all was quiet. Bless his precious little heart.

I got everything done and all cleaned up at the clubhouse by about 2:00 AM. I had so much pizza leftover. I had tons of that industrial-sized salad leftover. I wondered how many of the 30+ people that showed up actually ate. So now the RK and I are going on a pizza diet.

I still don’t have all the crap from the party put away. I left that salad sitting out on my rangetop until this morning, and it looked pretty sad. I’m slowly recovering from the past week of heaven and hell I went through. My house has paid the price as well, and I’m getting to the point I hate it. I desperately want to clean it, but just don’t have the physical energy or the motivation to actually get to work on it. And that is the most torturous feeling I think I’ve ever felt.

So my life has been blessed by the presence of my firstborn for an entire decade now. I’ve been called “Mommy” for ten whole years. Oh, my life is so rich. So blessed. So amazing.



  1. […] neighbor of mine who has been wonderful by babysitting the IB for me at critical times, like when I had to go appear before the judge to finalize my divorce. Her husband C loves football, and I’ve always loved hanging out with […]

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