June 9, 2005 Found out this morning on the way home from taking my son to the orthodontist that his dad - the friendly ex husband - is in the hospital today. He's having that procedure done where they go through your leg, try to find any clogged arteries and clean them out. They put stints in them now, unless they're bad enough to need a bypass. The ex, as always, is expecting the worst. He's sure he'll need bypass surgery and be months on the mend. Of course that may not be an entirely bad thing, because I read in the paper recently that the bypasses have better long term results than the stints. But I guess it's not up to him what the doctors decide to do. It's strange being on the outside, hearing about it in a roundabout way. He'd mentioned it to me some time ago, but last I'd heard, the cardiologist had resigned and everything was cancelled. I was wondering what was to become of him, with him feeling worse every day, feeling weaker, finding it harder to stand at his tablesaw and work. So it's a relief to hear that something is being done, but odd not to be at the hospital at his side. Naturally that's the place for his wife. I called her and offered to keep her children so she could stay with him, but she declined. We've stayed close even though we are long separated as far as being man and wife. I was genuinely happy for him when he found someone he loved who loved him back, and married her. I love her children. I hope to become better friends with her as time goes on. Still, it's odd not being a family anymore. There are eight children in that household - the oldest has left the nest - and they have one of those giant church vans they go everywhere in. They are definitely a family unit. I'm a single mom, the head of my household. I take my kids with me wherever I go as often as possible - unless I'm working, of course. We're a family, too - but it sometimes feels lopsided to be alone, expecting to lead and set a good example. I miss having someone to lean on, someone I can count on, someone with whom to discuss the various little crises that pop up here and there. Yet all has held together quite well. The kids seem fine and well adjusted, not the hapless victims of divorce I'd read about and fretted over. And my ex husband has settled into the role of something between a close friend and big brother. He's the one I call on when I'm afraid, when I need the car fixed, when I need advice, when I need to vent, when something in the house breaks, etc. I'm fortunate that his wife allows this - in fact, she's usually around and included in the conversation. I imagine that's a strange scenario for a lot of people to picture, but I am wondering if it's not all that unusual. Whether it is or not, I prefer it this way. I never wanted to be enemies, and though shortly after the breakup it sometimes felt that way, it couldn't last between two people who've shared so much. Including four children. Not knowing he was already in the hospital, I woke up this morning to write my "morning pages" - something that's part of a process I'm going through based on a book I'm reading...and in those I complained that I wished I didn't necessarily have to share the kids with their dad. I said I didn't want them to sleep half the nights at the other house, or leave on vacation for weeks where I don't see them. And immediately I was filled with the childish fear that my wish would come true in a way that I didn't want. That something would happen to their dad and then I'd have them all the time - but they'd be without their father. It's funny how, no matter how old you get, those childish fears remain. That if you have a bad thought about someone, something awful will happen to them and you'll think you caused it. It can leave you paralyzed, caught somewhere between realizing that the world operates without your engineering and also knowing that "the mind is the builder" and definitely, what goes around comes around. So I wonder where's the healthy balance between worrying about all the good and bad possibilites that lie in every day and becoming a mindless shell who wanders into every day thinking of nothing at all except how cute I look in this new outfit. I know both kinds of people. I don't want to be either one. I marvel at how some people, faced with a life of strife and adversity, wear it with dignity and face their days with cheer and hope. And how others will be on the verge of falling apart if they have a bad hair day or don't get their morning coffee, whining endlessly about frivolous inconveniences. I know I'm spoiled. I have said so many times that our family must have some kind of special protection, because so many of the tragedies that befall those around us have left us untouched. To grow up in such a rough neighborhood and come out with only having been burgled here and there - that's amazing. It never occurred to any of us that that was where our future was. I think we were raised to be optimistic. Every time I read in the paper or see on the news that someone's child has cancer, has been kidnapped or been murdered - I can't help but picture myself in that situation, playing out having to tell family, feeling alone and terrified and angry at God. And then that childish fear comes back, that somehow even thinking about it will make it happen. I say a quick prayer, begging God never to take my children from me, never to let harm come to them. Yet I know that every other parent wishes the same thing. God grants that peace to some but not to others. Seems unfair to me. So it was this morning when I read back what I'd written about the kids and their father. And I quickly said a prayer, asking God to ignore my trifle thoughts and to never take my children's father away from them. And not to take my friend away from me.
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