Chapter 3
After a long and strange day, I drove toward my sons’ school. At ages six and nine, they still attended the same elementary school, but soon there would be two drop-offs and pick-ups. One big benefit of the new job was that I could pick up the boys an hour earlier from the aftercare program. It was hard for me to be away from them for so long.
In my head, when I’d planned my family as a twenty-something, I was going to be home every afternoon to bake them cookies and witness their youth. The reality, more often than not though, was slapped-together dinners, arguments over homework, and pure exhaustion by the time I’d gotten them through our bath and bedtime routines.
I adored my children, but I’d had no idea how difficult parenting was going to be—or single parenting, rather. After my divorce many things changed, and in some ways my sons and I were still adapting to that.
As I pulled up to the school, I looked through the group of children gathered together as they waited for parents and caregivers.
There they were—Tyler and Brady. Even though they fought like cats and dogs, I often found them sticking together. It warmed my heart to think that they would always have each other.
“Hey, kiddos.” I smiled as I waved to them from the car.
They jostled each other as they raced to get into the back seat.
“Hey, Mom. How was your first day?” Tyler leaned into the front seat to hug me. I kissed his cheek, then hugged Brady.
“Get buckled in and I’ll tell you all about it.”
On our drive home I shared my experience with the yoga ball chair.
“We have those in our class!” Tyler giggled. “But I haven’t fallen off. That’s silly!”
“Don’t tease Mom.” Brady nudged his younger brother with his elbow.
Tyler screamed as if he’d been struck by a hot poker. “Mom! Make him stop! He hurt me!”
“I did not! I barely touched him!”
Tyler burst into tears. “Ow!”
I took a deep breath—or at least I tried to, before I was promptly interrupted by the need to slam on my brakes as a car cut out in front of me.
“Enough!” Even to my ears my shout sounded harsh. “Both of you quiet until we get home! I can’t concentrate on driving with you two fighting!”
The words spilled out of my mouth, even though just that morning I’d vowed to be more gentle and patient with my kids. My heart thudded against my chest as panic raced through my veins. I could have hit that car in front of us. I could have caused us all to be injured or worse.
I had to do better.
“I’m sorry.” I flicked my gaze to the rearview mirror then turned down our street.
Both boys were quiet, but Tyler still had tears in his eyes and Brady had that all too familiar sullen look. He had been trying to defend me and I’d shouted at him. And Tyler was just being Tyler.
When I parked in the driveway, the boys raced for the house. I sat in the car and closed my eyes. It was a strange day, that was for sure, and now it felt like it was going to end in arguments and tears. If only I could get above the surface of my day, I might be able to take better control of it. But dinner had to be made, homework had to be done—the night marched on whether I wanted to be part of it or not.
“Mom! We need the keys!” Brady huffed and crossed his arms.
I stepped out of the car and into the usual chaos of my evening: the boys with their typical begging for just one more television show, five more minutes on the tablet, followed by the questioning of what was put on the dinner table.
The complaints piled up—the whining, the exhaustion. It was all too much, and I snapped at them a few more times before they were finally tucked into bed.
As I sank down on the sofa, I felt the pressure building within me. This wasn’t the mom I wanted to be. This wasn’t the person I wanted to be, yet here I was, exhausted and regretting not spending more time engaging with my sons and wondering how I would ever get through another day of it.
There it was again, that burning sensation deep within me—that urge to escape. Every time I felt it, guilt followed close behind. No, I didn’t want to leave my sons. I loved them and with some perspective I could see how good my life was compared to others. But sometimes desire would peek through that chaos, a desire that I’d been trying to hide from—a desire to be something other than a mother.
I closed my eyes and his hands were on my shoulders. He rubbed them so tenderly, then leaned down and whispered in my ear. He told me that he loved me and that everything would be alright.
It was just my imagination, but it felt so real.
My ex-husband had once been good to me. He wasn’t a terrible man. Our lives had veered in different directions, but there was a time when he would comfort me in moments like these and I would believe in his promises.
When I opened my eyes, I was alone again. With a sigh I picked up my phone. Maybe I could distract myself a little bit before I started in on the dishes, the laundry, and the endless list of things that needed to be done.
I smiled when I saw that I had an e-mail from my friend Nicole. Our friendship was a virtual one, but I’d felt a strong connection to her ever since we’d met through the online support site I’d found—Forty and Free. I read over her words, and as usual, they were encouraging me to get back out there, to explore my options when it came to meeting men.
I’d dated here and there, but nothing much had come of it. I always felt like there wasn’t enough time.
But what I’d seen in the storage closet at work, as raunchy as it was, reminded me of a passion that I’d been pretending didn’t exist.