It Gets Better, The Grown Up Edition.

It starts with four words. Four words that, whether or not you felt like they were coming, will change your entire life, particularly if you're a stay at home parent.

"I want a divorce."

Your marriage could be the rockiest of rocky, but hearing those words is a hit to your soul. Your self esteem crumbles, and your only thought is "Where do I go from here?"

If you've been staying home with the kids, chances are your skill set is a bit rusty. Re-entering the work force is scary and daunting, and you're constantly asked "Why haven't you worked for the last (however many) years?" Answering with "Well, I have worked. I've worked for a small person that threw up on me, who's pee and poop I had to clean, who literally couldn't lift their head when the job started." isn't exactly what any hiring manager wants to hear.

But you have to restart your life because the one you knew is gone forever. And here's the thing... that's a good thing. No matter how many years you've been married, if you're getting divorced, it's because it wasn't working. The two of you weren't meant to be together any longer, and as absolutely heart breaking as that is, it's time to move forward.

I'm writing this because I know it. I wallowed, I cried, I felt sorry for myself. But after one fateful trip to Savannah that included many come to Jesus talks with my aunt, I came back home with a new mindset. I had grieved the life I had lost, and now it was time to get my shit together. This isn't a "go you, you rock!" story. My post-divorce story isn't special, and I'm certainly not special for having gone through it. Divorces happen every day, and people move on all the time. But perhaps my insight can help one or two people.

Once I had finally opened my eyes that my marriage was most definitely over, I was able to see how unhappy we both had been for a long time. That was freeing, letting go of the false sense of happiness. I don't regret any of the decisions I made in my marriage, they helped me grow, helped me learn what I do and don't want in relationships, and I got my incredible children out of the deal. I don't like the term "failed marriage" because as long as we both learned from it, it didn't fail. And we weren't always unhappy, otherwise we wouldn't have gotten married. After all, neither of us is stupid.

Taking off my rose colored glasses was the first step in my new life. Once I did that, deciding where to work came rather easy. Well, at least deciding where to apply for jobs, landing one in this economy has been a different story all together. My first few interviews were shaky at best. I was fumbling through the whole process, my interview confidence hadn't been tested in almost a decade, and I probably ended up looking like a moron. But I did it, and even though those first interviews didn't get me any jobs, the practice helped for the next interviews. Once again, more of this learning process we call life.

Of course, finding work also brought some sense of sadness and guilt. I'd stayed home with Monster practically his entire life, and I'd been home with Roo since birth as well. But here she is, three now, and I'm going to have to put her in daycare. I felt like I'd cheated her out of these wonderful years at home with me, years I had been able to give my son. It seemed wholly unfair to her, whether or not she'd remember it all was irrelevant. I still struggle a bit with that guilt, but it's getting much easier to handle.

Those all-important discussions with my aunt on a cold Savannah porch also helped with other aspects of my life. I was wasting away from the stress. I was smaller than I'd ever been, and it was scary for everyone, myself included. I will shamefully write that at my lowest, I weighed a meek 96lbs. I was accused of having an eating disorder, but I ate when I could. It seems that everyone assumes the only way stress changes your appearance is by making you eat more, and thus become bigger. That's not true though. There are some people, people like myself, who lose their appetite with stress. I ate when I could, and ate as much as I could when hunger struck, but the added stress of people screaming "eat a cheeseburger" at my face just made me self conscious. I was trying, but I kept hearing "not good enough". So after that trip to Savannah, I decided to block everyone out. Any comments about my weight were ignored, and I was able to slowly regain my appetite. A month after that trip, I had gained 10lbs.

I'm not exactly sure what it was my aunt said that did it, but when I got home, I had one more talk with Jeep Man about the demise of our marriage. I had to be sure, and I was. We were done, and now we could move on and be happy. It was kind of amazing how that worked. One day, I went to bed, still wallowing, and the next, the sun was shining just a little brighter and I was HANGRY. The future was no longer bleak. Here was my opportunity to do whatever I wanted. I was getting the chance to start fresh, and I had my two little creatures to enjoy the ride with me.

I took my new found happiness and devised a plan to get my new life started. Men were nowhere in this plan, because I knew that was the last thing I needed. I ended up getting set up on a few dates though, and I went for no other reason than I could. Nothing came of them, and that was how I wanted it. I was happy. I didn't need anyone else to help me create happiness, because I was creating plenty on my own.

But then a funny thing happened. Just when I knew I couldn't possibly be happier, The Marine came into the picture. I wasn't expecting him, wasn't ready for him, but he showed up and I'm so glad he did. Because that happiness I had? That's pittance compared to what I've got now.

I've got a job that starts in September, the kids and I will be moving soon, and I've got a great man who's stayed by my side through some stupid, stupid crap.

If you're a stay at home parent facing divorce and wondering how you can possibly move forward, I want you to take a look at the house around you and think of that house as the ashes, and yourself as the phoenix. You're going to rise from those ashes, and when you do, you'll be more lively than you ever thought possible. I promise. It gets better.

~Dee

My Son Isn't an A**hole... Most of the Time.

It's been a hot minute since I've written. A lot has changed in the Sometimes Wholesome house, and it's been quite a whirlwind.

Jeep Man and I have split, and that's ok. I'm not going to divulge details, and I'm not going to bash all over him (he is my awesome kids' father, after all), so if you're looking for a Grey's Anatomy-esque drama, this isn't your blog. I'm seeing someone new, we'll call him The Marine, and he's pretty amazing all around. I'm re-joining the work force, moving from a house to an apartment, and hoping to restart school again soon. That's a whole lot of change in a short period of time. But you know what hasn't changed? My kids. Well, aside from growing and all that. Monster is still very ADHD, SID, and Dyslexic. Roo is still very tenacious, sweet, and surprising.

All of these changes would be difficult on any child, but imagine this many changes for a kid like mine. One that thrives on routine and sameness. I don't know how his head hasn't exploded. He's a good boy, sweet, kind, loves everyone and doesn't understand how anyone couldn't love him. He's the kid who, in 2012, asked Santa to make the people in Connecticut happy again after the Sandyhook shooting. He's the kid who shares his toys with anyone. He's the kid who, if I'm not feeling well, will play quietly with his sister and check up on me to make sure I'm ok.

But he's also the kid who has almost no impulse control, forgets what he's been told within minutes, gets distracted easier than Paula Deen at a butter convention, and panics a little when he's being reprimanded.

A good friend, we'll call her Boston, came to visit us for a few weeks in April. She saw his quirks, his melt downs, his forgetfulness; and she said it best when she said "He's not just being an a**hole, he's a sweet kid. He just can't control this stuff." And you know what? She's entirely correct.

He's not just a little jerk. I mean, let's be honest here, all kids kind of are to a degree; but when it's the 15th time I've told him to brush his dagum teeth, I have to remind myself of this. He's not ignoring me, he's not trying to make my blood pressure rise. He literally has no control over how easily he gets distracted. When I tell him to clean his room, it becomes a four hour chore, simply because "Oh cool! A Batman toy!"

ADHD kids are a different breed all together, and they need to be looked at as such. Personally, I can't stand parents who make excuses for their obnoxious children. If your kid is just a jerk (ex: being rude and nasty to other kids or adults, not taking responsibility for their actions, purposely ignoring you, etc) , perhaps you should take a moment to sit back and wonder how they become that way. Thankfully, most kids are decent enough.

An ADHD kid though? Nine times out of ten, they're the sweetest kids you'll ever encounter. They're bright, funny, and see everything great in the world. Their imaginations are endless and should be nurtured, not held back. So I lose my shiz sometimes? Of course I do. I'm far from perfect, and too many times have I had to hug my son and tell him "Mommy's very sorry, I shouldn't have yelled like that." because I've just told him, yet again, that it's time to walk out the door and I swear if he doesn't put his shoes on right this second, my head will explode, and there'll be Sometimes Wholesome brain matter all over these walls...

Boston, thanks for reminding me that he's not just an a**hole. I mean, he totally can be, because I'm not a fan of pooping with an audience, and he seems to think I really want to open his cheese stick while on the toilet, but you know... thanks for reminding me that the other stuff doesn't make him an a**hole.