I ate the head off your chocolate rabbit and now, I am in tears over it.
Hormonal, stressed, and a wee bit sad, I looked around the house for chocolate, but I couldn’t find any,
Besides…a really nastily sweet tasting Hello Kitty made of chocolate…and a solid chocolate rabbit.
It was yours. One of many chocolate rabbits and candy you got for Easter…the very same day your world changed forever.
I am crying over the chocolate rabbit.
It’s not because I feel like a greedy, gluttonous and selfish mom, but because daughter, you are only 3 and split between two homes.
That’s not how I planned it because clearly, who is stupid enough to get married planning to get divorced, but that’s how it happened.
You, our adorable little daughter, don’t fully understand why some days you don’t see me or don’t see daddy.
As smart as you are, sometimes you just want me. Him. Both of us.
All of it normal. Again.
I hear so many people tell me how they stay married for the kids while their children wallow in a miserable household. suffering the bad choices of two very unhappy adults. I am proud to say that dad and I are two people who didn’t do that. That we are two people who get along and respect each other enough to know that we weren’t going down like that.
When I’m eating your chocolate bunny, I’m feeling bad that I’ve violated your chocolate stash. That I’ve (we’ve) let you down.
That no matter how hard I try to financially make it as a freelancer or fruitlessly try to find work close enough to not move you, that I will have to continue to turn your world upside down, as if it weren’t sideways enough.
In the best situations, divorce makes two people happier parents and provides the child/children with two happier atmospheres in which to live. To me, this is way better than married miserable.
It still does not make up for the guilt a mom (this mom) feels over the road ahead that looks financially bleak and alone.
When I envision motherhood as some holy entity, as some divine role and right, I picture motherhood as being a role of savior, nurturer, provider, and rock. The rock of the family. It is hard to be the rock when everything as you’ve known it is completely turned upside down. Nothing is as it was.
I feel like I am parenting under a whole other guise and name. With different laws, rules, and regulations.
And no guidebook.
People like to give advice. People so lovingly like to share their horror stories with me…it’s as if divorcing means suddenly, everyone gets to tell you how to be. Act. Parent. Think.
I am thankful for the real support of my friends. I’d like to say my mom, but she is too depressed to be supportive and so if it weren’t for my friends, I would have zip.
But for the strangers who give me their tips, I say, thanks but no thanks.
I ate the ears off the chocolate rabbit.
I can’t lie daughter. It tasted good. It tasted so good, I had to eat the head. I was starved for something. For a sign that things would be ok.
For the perfect job/house/life situation to pop into thin air while my monthly friend and hormonal hunger propelled me to eat your rabbit so viciously.
It didn’t happen. I got no solace.
Just the sound of classic music floating downstairs from your room. The sound that I live for rather than the dead silence of nothingness when you are gone.
I am doing the best I can.
I know I ate your rabbit–or part of it– but I really love you.
And so does Daddy.
A Mommy Who is Learning A New Road Map
Honk if you love single moms….or just follow me on Twitter because otherwise, I’ll hit you up with Jewish guilt.