DotMoms

If my family were a CSS stylesheet

by Mindy

roberts.css

 

body { color: white;
     size: 4;
     family: Mindy, Logan, Dylan, Daphne;
     background-image: checkered;
     background-repeat: repeat-y, repeat-x;
     margin: slim to none;
     style: inimitable; }

house{ color: #770D-4 clay pebble;
     size: 1450 sq. ft.;
     padding: fiberglass insulation, shake roof;
     family-friendly: mais oui;}

expenses { position: Silicon Valley;
     range: ridiculous;
     display: if you have to ask…;
     padding: for you, special deal today; }

preconceptions { color: #tranpsarent;
weltanschauung: tolerant, principled, slapstick;
     philosophical bent: Thomasian;
     tenderness: consistent;
     grace: 85% }   

blockquote { accuracy: 100%;
     precision: not so much;
     source: here, there, wherever; }

a      { color: #transparent;
     decoration: some exaggeration; }

a:hover
     { decoration: well, a little, I try not to be overbearing; }

a img{ border: line }

h1_mindy { color: blond, natural;
     size: aspiring to 8, will settle for 10;
     weight: see driver's licence;
     margin:  slim to none;
     padding: slight adipose;
     height: 5'9";
     decoration: cursive; }

h2_Logan { color: blond;
     age: born May 1998;
     weight at birth: 7 lb, 2 oz;
     margin: two weeks early;
     padding: moderate adipose;
     height: 19.5 inches;
     decoration: strawberry, right eyelid; }

h2_Dylan { color: blond;
     age: born August 2000;
     weight at birth: 6 lb, 15 oz;
     margin:  one week early;
     padding: slight adipose;
     height: 19.25 inches;
     decoration: impish disposition;
     heart failure: imminent;
     myocarditis: viral;
     recovery: complete }

h3_Daphne { color: strawberry;
     age: born February 2002;
     weight at birth: 7 lb, 7 oz;
     margin:  one week late;
     padding: little or no adipose;
     height: 20 inches;
     decoration: flaming orange hair;
     ears: elfin;
     domination: complete; }

#menu{ dessert:absolutely;
     top: cherry;
     bottom: vanilla;
     right: now;
     left: none; }

Mindy is a little too geeky for her own good and apologizes for this post to those who don't speak html. She is also a divorced mother who lives in the Bay Area with her three children.

Faith! Huh! Good Good, y'all!

By Mindy

My boys aged five and seven, are with their father in Colorado, snowboarding at a friend’s place in... I think… Beaver Creek. I only know that because Daphne remembered it had a silly name. I haven’t heard from them in three days, don’t have the number or the address, and my ex’s cell phone does not answer. And yet I know they are safe. If this isn’t the definition of faith, I don’t know what is.

While I am not overly worried about their safety, I am beyond enraged that I have no idea even what zip code they’re in. I was able to reach them at their grandparents’ house on Thursday because their Dad was taking care of some business in Ft. Collins, but after that… Zip. Nada. Bupkis.

I did talk to their grandmother, though. She said they were with my ex’s friend and two sons.

quot;Ah," I said, "Now I know why he wouldn't take Daphne."

quot;Well, sometimes girls just aren't invited." Indeed.

I don't like not knowing where my kids are when they’re riding their bikes, let alone when they’re on a snowy, icy slope of a mountain two thousand miles away. And (cue organ music) I didn’t see anything they packed. I don’t know if they own jackets or snow boots or what. I’m sure their dad has it covered, but I don’t know for sure.

He's a great father and I know I can count on his taking good care of our children, but the idea that it’s no big deal to leave me hanging is driving me bonkers. I left a message asking him to call whenever he was back in range.

quot;Everything OK?"

quot;Yes, I just didn’t know where you were."

quot;I told you, we’re skiing."

Ohhhh, that’s right, I guess I didn’t think that through. My bad.

I didn’t let it go. "I don’t think it’s totally unreasonable for me to want to know where my children are and how to reach them, or expect you to check in with your daughter. She was left behind when her brother got to go skiing and I can’t give her a good reason why other than the 'girls’ week' you promised."

"We're just away on a three-day guys' trip, that's all," he said with disgust, and handed the phone off to the boys.

Logan wanted to know, "Mom, did you try to call more times than you succeeded?"

"Yes. Yes, baby, I did. I missed you."

"Oh. Okay."

*strangled scream*

Our "girls' weekend" consisted of my working every moment my daughter would amuse herself, and holding her on my lap at my desk when she wouldn’t. I never left the house except to drop her off and pick her up from school. I finally took her to the mall for dinner because I had promised we’d do something special. I felt like a total jerk.

"Mommy, I don’t like when you have to work every day."

"I don’t either, but it’s just until this project is done. One more week, baby." One more week of staying up all night trying to catch up, that is. I don’t know that I’ll be able to make up the time, but I pray I will.

I'll just draw off that big ole well of faith.

Mindy is a divorced mother who lives in the Bay Area with her three children.

The balance dream

by Mindy

Balance... people say I seem to have achieved it, and I supposed I have, considering how I've lived the last five years.

I put my oldest in day care until he was two and our second was born. I think that was right, because I needed to work, was only a half-mile away, and saw him all the time.

We only took him out when our second child became catastrophically ill at birth. We hired a nanny so that he could be kept close to home and away from other children. It was right, because we didn't want him to die. That one was easy.

When I got pregnant with our third nine months after our second was born, the wheels came off the cart. My boss was rapidly losing patience with my breeder ways. My husband refused to settle for just any job and stayed home for three years. I supported us for four. During that time he asked me for a divorce several times, told me he'd cheated over a four-year period in our marriage, and put me in a sling. He is also a nurturing, stellar father who adores his children, so there was a lot of agony in weighing decisions. Divorcing him was the hardest, most wrong-feeling thing I ever did, but it was the wisest and sanest. It was right.

My acid test is the same as Ann Landers' was: are you better off or worse off as a result of the decision? That seems oversimplified but, my God, it works when you apply it seriously. I sat in my office one day last year and thought, Huh, I'm in a lot of pain because my husband is an ass, I'm a stress-bucket because I'm working too hard and shouldering too much responsibility, I’m running a monumental sleep deficit because I had three children in four years, and I'm on the verge of a breakdown because I'm in danger of losing my job while injured and in the middle of a divorce. So, I decided to jump ship.

I can honestly say that any balance I have today is due to that jump, to the decision to distance myself from corrosive influences in my life, to focus on the things that will make my children feel safe and loved, and if at all possible, find some way to get some of that for myself. I thank God every day since I found my boyfriend. He gives me all of that and more, and I thought I could never feel safe again.

All this is a very roundabout way of saying that you have to create your own balance. No one will offer it. A former boss once said, "Of course you have to ask me for a raise! If you don't, who will?"

You have to do and give yourself what you need because no one, no one, can intuit it all and give it to you. The smartest thing my boyfriend ever said to me was right at the beginning: "I may not be able to make you happy all the time; that's not my job. You may not be able to make me happy all the time; that's not your job either. I'm hoping we can be happy enough together." My knees buckled. Finally, someone was absolving me of the responsibility for his happiness and encouraging me to be responsible for my own.

It is never too late to do for yourself. And, you already know what is right. But if you ever need affirmation, call me up and I'll tell you just how right you are.

Mindy is a divorced mother who lives in the Bay Area with her three children.