All of my exes live in Texas

I am still extremely close to my ex-husband’s sister. Her sons are every bit my nephews. But a few weeks ago when introducing her to another friend, I called her “my ex-sister-in-law.” She was appalled and smacked me in the arm, saying “I NEVER refer to you that way.” She’s right and I promised her it wouldn’t happen again. Over the next few weeks I was with my ex's family often - both of my kids celebrated birthdays, two Jewish Holidays etc. We all celebrated each of these occasions together. We have always gotten along well enough to do so, and we know how much it means to our kids. What I didn’t realize was how much it also meant to me.

I have been in Bat Mitzvah Momzilla mode for months. Planning, prepping, scheduling, paying, praying, ranting and raving. One million calendars, spreadsheets, lists, emails, texts and sleepless nights, and it finally arrived last weekend. In a concerted effort to save cost, we've chosen to take on all set-up, decorating and tear-down for both of our daughter’s Bat Mitzvah parties. And this is great in theory, but requires an army of helpers. In advance, I had reached out to mostly the same folks who had helped three years ago for our older daughter. I did this, knowing that the last time I asked, our divorce was still relatively new and I wasn't sure how his family would feel about working as a team. This time, I was even more unsure. I hadn’t seen some of them since the last Bat Mitzvah, three years ago. My ex does not keep in close contact with his family from out of town, and so now I was asking them for a favor for us both, without much context. As it was, some of the “exactly who is attending” was up in the air until the last minute.

But they came. My people. His people. Our kids’ people. They all showed up. Locally and from across the country. And I don’t just mean they showed up, I mean that they SHOWED UP. They arrived full of love and excitement. They were happy to be there. They were eager to shower our family with love, support, congratulations and help. They rolled up their sleeves - grabbed my list of instructions, crates of supplies, double checked that they understood my vision, and got to work. They worked non-stop until we were done. Our people showed up and made the night possible. At no time did anyone stop to question who was helping whom. My partners’ daughter worked with my ex-husband’s girlfriend on the centerpieces. My ex’s cousins worked with my tallest, “cousin” to hang decorations in a spot only a 6’5” man could reach. My parents ran out for missing supplies, my brother-in-law worked with his dad and strung endless word signs. My aunt and uncle wrote signs and filled bowls. Everyone laughed, everyone got along and everyone did this for our daughter. No one hesitated even once to question the scene, to remark how it might be odd in other families.

As the party swung into high gear, the video of our daughter growing up played on the screens. I had worked hard to make sure that everyone in the family was included at least once. This was made harder by the fact that I did not have many pictures of my kids with my ex or his family post-divorce. But I had asked them for some and they sent them – no hesitation. That night we danced and talked and ate and mingled and celebrated for hours and I swear no outsider would have ever known where my family began and his ended. Everyone was happy. Our daughter most of all. To my kids, this is normal, this is how we "family."

To say that I am grateful for the weekend, the family, the friends and the mitzvah would be a huge understatement. In complete transparency though, I am also proud. We made promises to ourselves and each other about how we would “family” in the wake of divorce, and for the most part we have held fast to those promises. In similar fashion to “the days are long, but the years are short,” in divorce - the tough times are tough, but the family we maintain is even sweeter. Its hard work, and we might fail more than we succeed. But we SHOW UP when it matters. And for our daughters - that is all that matters.

A wise friend once told me that divorce is hard as hell in the beginning, horrendous in the middle, and spectacular in the end. I realize now, that spectacular has many parts and this family isn’t an “ex” anything, we are ALL simply family. Thank you to everyone who showed up and reminded me. 

What I Will NOT Do for My Daughters

There are things you know about yourself innately.  Things about the core of your very being that are part of your brand, pieces of your very soul. I know that I am a warrior, that I am stubborn and do not back down easily in the face of injustice. I know that I am far more insecure than anyone who ever told me I was ‘intimidating” would believe. The first time you hold your child, the things you know about yourself shift. I know that I could kill someone who hurt my child. I know that I would do anything for my daughters. The most surprising thing however, as they have become teenagers, is realizing what I WILL NOT do.

I will not shield you from the reality of the world we live in. I will not turn off the news when you walk in the room, or tell you not to read about the stories of horror that shake me to my core. I will not lie and tell you that being abducted or assaulted will not happen to you.  I will not leave you uninformed or miss-informed either. You will be armed and ready with awareness, knowledge and the power of your voice and the strength of your mind.

I will not miss dinnertime with you, the time of day when you ask the most important questions and share your day and your worries.  I will not shy away from the hard ones – “do you have sex even if you don’t want kids,” “why are some girls so damn mean” “could there really be another Holocaust,” “will I have to drive my sister everywhere when I get my license” etc.

I will not hesitate when, even now, you ask me to cuddle with you before bed. I will not stop rubbing your back, or smelling your head or holding you close until you tell me, I must. I will not take these moments for granted. I will not refuse when it has been a shitty day and you want to sleep in my bed with me. I will not remind myself, that those times will become fewer and further between.

I will not soften the world for you. I will not lie or avoid hard truths. I will be your safe place to land when it becomes too much. I will not stop advocating for what is best for you. Exercise, sleep, healthy food - all with equal measure of ice cream, belly laughs and saying yes to your crazy ideas.

I will never say, “because I told you so” or “that’s not your business.” I will never ignore your feelings even when I disagree. I will never tell you that you are too much of anything. The world will cut you down enough. I will never couch my own experiences when you ask me for the truth – “did you drink, do drugs, and have sex, at my age?” I will not bury my head in the sand and pretend that I did not or that your peers do not. I will not pretend that it cannot and will not be you. I will not live in denial. I will not hesitate to arm you with what you need - advice you will not want, a ride home without questions, birth control, a toilet bowl and a cold floor.

I will not steer clear of conversations about health and illness or buy into the stigma around mental illness. I will not pretend that these things do not happen or do not exist. I will seek help without shame when you need it. I will not let you buy into the idea that there is anything ‘wrong’ with you, when life feels overwhelming or ugly. I will not forget to remind you that being a teenager will often suck, but that it does actually get better. I will hold your hand through every storm and every rainbow.

I will not allow the words fat, ugly, or stupid in regards to yourselves. I will not pretend to have a perfect self-image and will do my best to lead by example. I will not curb your individuality, your spirit, your voice, but I will say “hell no” sometimes and I will not expect you to like it. I will not ever give up on you. Even felons have mamas.

I will not badmouth your father just because we are divorced. I will not protect him either. I will not ever imply that either of us was solely responsible for our demise. I will not own more than my share. I will not make any of it your problem or your cross to bear. I will not kid myself that there will be times that it becomes your problem no matter how hard we try.

I will not belittle your passions, even if they are not my own. I will not underestimate your potential, but I will not tolerate laziness. I will not stop supporting you when we disagree. I will not assume that I always know better than you do.  I will not forget to tell you when I learn from you, when I am grateful for your patience. I will not pretend I can help you with your math homework anymore, or that I do not over edit your writing.

I will not prioritize anything or anyone over you – kids first, ALWAYS.  I will not stray from my commitment to be the best and do the best for you. I will not hesitate to remortgage my house if you work hard enough to get into your top choice university. I will forgo my own travel to let you have summers you describe as “the best of my life.” I will not forsake the time I have with you and I will be present when you are there.

I will not underestimate the importance of privacy and trust. I will admit that I am scared shitless about all of the ways the world can hurt you, and choose to give you space and leeway anyway. I will not forget to honor your trust in me and keep your secrets. I will not avoid conversations with your friends about important topics that they might not want to have with their own parents.  I will not be unwilling to hold you accountable for your mistakes and deliver consequences equal to the infraction.

I will not pretend I am not sad, or afraid, or silly or damaged. I am a product of my 43 years and I will not hide that reality from you. I will not embarrass you on purpose, but I will not be anyone but who I am. I will not avoid telling you that you will be the same one day and I hope to still be your soft place to land.

I will not let you forget that our home is our “safe space” and nothing you do will change that. I will not stop telling you that I love you, that I believe in you, that I am proud of you, every day. I will not stop pushing you to be the best you. I will not hesitate to tell you that you can do and be better when you forget.

I will not do everything for you, my girls. I would however, do anything.