After I divorced, both boys lived with me for about 7 years.  I always prayed that ‘that day’ would never come when they would want to live with their dad, but it did.  During their visitation with their dad one summer, I was served papers at work to appear in court for a custody hearing.  Little did I know that BH had taken both boys, WS1 (Wonderful Son #1), age 14, and WS2 (Wonderful Son #2), age 9, to an attorney and had them both sign a document stating that they wanted to live with him.  After being served, I fainted at the receptionist’s desk at my office in front of a waiting room full of patients.  What better way to impress your boss, right?  I had a stress-induced blood pressure spike, my mind turned to mush times two.  I was hit by a pitch.  My heart was erupting into a trillion pieces on the floor.  It meant a visit to the emergency room.  Yea!!  The crazy woman would be on display so people could stare!  It was a completely crazy scene, like something only seen on tv.  I always refer to it as ‘that day‘ because nothing has been the same since. DS1 said he wanted to live with his dad, and DS2 said he just wanted to be with his brother.  After weeks of praying and soul searching (and a little bit of Xanax. Ok…. a lot of Xanax) I decided I wanted to avoid putting the boys through a custody battle in court. I decided to let DS1 go live with his dad, and have DS2 stay with me for another school year before he went.  It was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.  I didn’t want to let them go but I couldn’t force them to stay.  I didn’t want to be the reason they didn’t know their dad when they got older.  I didn’t want any of that nasty ol’ resentment thing showing up years later and have it directed at ME.  I actually had the nerve to think that they’d go there, get to know their dad, and turn around and come home in 6 months and never think about it again.  That was almost 4 years ago.  I have to say that I haven’t handled every day gracefully.  I also have to say that I haven’t handled them sanely, either.  I’ve managed to stay out of the looney-bin, but it hasn’t been pretty.  Along the way I’ve learned that that’s ok.  Some days you’re the windshield, some days you’re the bug.  Sounds like life to me.

YW

wife@yankeewife.com