You know the holidays are coming up, right? And you KNOW what that means, right? Yep, shopping. Lots and lots of shopping. And lots of bags. Paper and plastic.

The paper bags from everyone in America buying groceries for Thanksgiving alone will probably set us back a few frillion trees and a lot of oxygen, ya know?

And then Christmas and Hannukah…more bags. Especially plastic ones from malls, department stores etc.

So I have this idea!

I’m suggesting that instead of, or perhaps in addition to a regular gift, that you give the gift of re-usable bags to your friends, family, kids’ teachers, the mailman, the lawn guy — anyone! Everyone!

I know it sounds super crunchy and not at all glamorous but let me tell you… I never felt so cool as I did the other day when I carried my Green Bags (purchased at my local Publix grocery store for $1.49 each) into Wild Oats and had the guy put my groceries in them when I checked out.

Everyone around me, including the ultra-hippies and greenies, were using paper whereas I saved about FIVE paper bags that day using my awesome, super strong, super sturdy and super cheap Green Bags.

That’s when I decided that at $1.49 a pop, I was going to give my bags away to other people and just buy new ones. And that’s what I did!

And then it occurred to me that those bags (or ANY re-usable bags that are made to last) would make great presents because they’re like a gift that helps someone be green (or greener) and it keeps giving to the environment, too.

Can you tell that I’m excited about this?

Squeeee!!!

Before I had kids, well, actually way before I was THINKING about having kids, I thought I didn’t want any. It wasn’t because I had a fully-mapped out “life plan” or big goals in which children would have been an impediment. Definitely not that. Burning ambition has never been my strong suit…

I just didn’t have that maternal yen back then. And it wasn’t that I hated children. I simply had no feelings about them one way or the other and seeing as I didn’t ever envision myself being married, it stands to reason that I never spent any time envisioning myself as somebody’s mother, either.

I felt I was destined for bigger things, though I had no idea what those things would be. Of course, looking back on that, I have to laugh. What on earth was I thinking? And smoking?

The biggest irony of all, however, is that I ended up exactly where I never thought I’d be and frankly, becoming a mother, even with all it’s drudgery and sacrifice, is still the best and biggest and most important thing I’ve ever done.

Some people will nod their heads in agreement. Others will scratch their heads because they don’t quite understand. And others still will gag in disgust because they hate breeders, particularly self-congratulatory ones like myself, and they hate children. Not dispassion for us or even dislike for us but hate. They hate me and they think my kids shouldn’t exist.

Now I can understand people not wanting to have children and I don’t think it makes you a bad person to not want to be a parent. I know people who have decided not to have kids and they’re nice, normal, well-adjusted people so far as I can tell and I have no issues whatsoever with their decisions.

I do, however, take issue with those who have a more…extreme point of view; people who feel nobody should have children.

Corinne Maier’s book No Kid: Forty Reasons For Not Having Children is exemplary of this kind of extreme thinking. Maier herself admits the book is “50% provocation and 50% a serious book…”

Maier wrote the book because she has moments in which she bitterly regrets having kids and also as a response to France’s “cult of motherhood”, fueled by generous state subsidies and incentives to have children, which were intended reverse a decline in its birth rate.

Says Maier. “In France, people go on too much about the glory of motherhood and you’re not allowed to talk about all the problems having kids causes…” The Glory? HELLO? Mommy/parent bloggers have already pulled back that particular curtain, thankyouverymuch.

I’m the first to admit that motherhood is hardly glorious. It’s a lot of work. Duh. We all know that. What I don’t dig are some of her ridiculous statements about a child-free France:

“Just imagine. There’d be fewer of us around so rents would be cheaper, it would be easier to get a job and there’d be fewer traffic jams.”

Just who does Maier expect to change her diapers when she’s a miserable ninety year old? I have a newsflash for you, lady… No new babies being born = a city full of old people with nobody to care for them.

Now, I’m sure her statements are somewhat tongue-in-cheek and primarily intended to provoke and rile up oversensitive mommy-types like myself and I can accept that. Ann Coulter does that crap all the time but SOME of the COMMENTS in reference to an article about Maier’s book are kind of sad and disturbing (and very poorly written).

Here are some of th comments, verbatim, with my own (biased) responses following in italics:

Corinne is fantastic! Having children is a form of environmental pollution. We need less people consuming unconsciously the blood and life of this planet. — Andya , Coulson, UK

It’s too bad your mother didn’t share your philosophy, Andya. But hey…since you think the world needs less people, perhaps you’d like to sacrifice yourself in the name of of your convictions?

•••

Overpopulation creates pollution (think about that , Mr A. Gore, having 4 (!) children). My wife and I are also childfree and loving every minute of it! Let’s abolish child benefit and the world will be a nicer and cleaner place. — john, ghent, Belgium

Dude, I know. I can’t believe they gave Al Gore the Nobel Peace Prize. I mean he has FOUR children. OMG! But seriously, John, who has done MORE to stop Global Warming? You and your happily child-free spouse or Al Gore?

•••

I never wanted a child but because of a highly correctable mistake we ended up having one. The result for me was something that I never experienced before…total collapse and depression. Real depression. I became a stay-at-home dad, moving away from my home town of Toronto where I had a wonderful job and a marvelous group of friends, to Ottawa, a provincial, conservative and unfriendly town where I know no one. Furthermore, the child that I care for is loud, confrontational and has “special needs” as he has Asperger’s Syndrome, a flavour-of-the-month problem that supposedly denies the kid any social elan, which is certainly evident in this kid. Now I am poor, looking for low wage jobs and I am lonely and depressed. AND I HATE IT! Ms Maier’s book cannot correct the stupid error, but it it so refreshing to know that I am not alone. After reading the responses on this page, I really know that I am not alone. Thank you, Ms Maier. You are a true friend. — John, Ottawa, Canada

I’m very sorry to hear that you are suffering from depression but you know, there ARE treatments for that. Perhaps a visit to your doctor is in order, no? And by the way, Asperger’s is NOT a “flavour of the month problem.” Are you really that ignorant? He is your child, your flesh and blood. How can you be so cruel? In my not very humble opinion, you give creedence to the idea that some people shouldn’t procreate and it sounds like your son would actually be better off without you (and your negativity) in his life.

•••

I agree completely with Corinne. I have a 3 yrs old boy myself and seperated from his father. I’d give a lot of money to turn back the clock. It sounds cruel but it is the truth! But if you say that openly to anyvbody in your social circle, your a bad mother or even a bad person… — Caroline, Barcelona

Perhaps this will sound cruel as well, but why don’t you give your son up for adoption? You don’t want him but I can assure you somebody out there does and he would be much better off with them rather than having a mother who wishes he were never born.

•••

Less truly is more. haha! — molly, akron, ohio, us

Ahahaha, Molly! You’re sooo clever ;)

•••

Well, when we don’t multiply as a society, then our oh so pleasant society will cease to exist in 1-2 generations. And the other societies, you know, the less pleasant ones but with so many children, will claim the space with the remaining inhabitants. It’s that simple. — Esme, Prague, CZ

Finally, a voice of reason.

•••

Presumably the proudly childless will be expecting the offspring of the fertile to do all the work when they’re retired, man the hospitals, give them their medicine. Imagine if the work generation went on a tax strike. Why should their taxes go to pay for the welfare of those who didn’t want them to be born? — Guy, London, UK

Well said, Guy!

I’ve been reading this fascinating book called “The Nurture Assumption” and in it the author spends some time discussing how differently people parent today in the modern, urbanized world as compared to “traditional” societies (think villages and tribes etc). Even in just my lifetime, parenting has changed quite a bit.

For example, my parents never sought to entertain or stimulate me and didn’t even play with me all that much and that was NORMAL. And my parents certainly didn’t worship me or worry about boosting my self-esteem and college marketability every waking minute of the day. And that was NORMAL, too.

This is all to say that I know some parents (Not ME, of course. Heh) are kind of nuts and do some insane things that make them really easy to hate (Mandarin classes for toddlers anyone?) but wishing children away is not the solution.

Have you seen the movie “Children of Men?” It’s set in the future and human sperm counts are at zero. Nobody has been able to have babies for two decades and the youngest person on the planet is 21. While I totally get that it’s a work of fiction, it paints a very, very grim picture.

•••

For those of you who aren’t all anti-parents, anti-kids, I have some interesting news about a cool new mommyblogging anthology coming out next year. I’ll have a little something published in it, along with pieces by a TON of awesome bloggers that make me swoon when I think of the good company I’ll be keeping between those pages!

It’s called The Best Little Mommyblogging Anthology Ever and our fellow author and editor, Rita of Surrender, Dorothy, has worked tirelessly on this project for over a year. I am humbled by her abilities and mad skillz and just so thrilled to be included. Please pop by Rita’s place and check out the long list of contributors and maybe give her a ‘lil high five action because she truly deserves it!

•••

And finally, the caption contest winner will be announced in my next post! Stay tuned.

Do you believe in karma? I do. But until tonight I’m not sure I would have said I believe in INSTANT karma.

See, I have this neighbor with a pool and this morning as I was sitting out on the back porch enjoying some coffee and reading a magazine while I had the whole, peaceful house to myself, I started to notice a rather loud, grinding noise coming this neighbor’s pool pump.

I knew it would only get worse because Neighbor Guy’s pool pump has done this before. It grinded and screeched for 18 hours a day, getting louder with each excruciating day until it finally broke. Only then did I get my back porch and my solitude back.

So anyway, by this evening the noise was so loud the huz and I could barely speak to each other out there and forget about relaxing and conversing like we normally do. It was torture.

So I go over to Neighbor Guy’s house (he’s about 55 and really crotchety) and ask very, very nicely if he would consider turning his pool pump off for a couple hours.

In a very annoyed tone, he informs me that the timer goes off at 10:30pm (it’s currently 7pm) and he KNOWS it’s malfunctioning and that he will be fixing it on Saturday.

So I say, while mentally calculating that it will be over three hours until the unholy racket subsides, “I was just hoping you could turn it off for a little while. I’ve been listening to it all day and it’s very loud, so much so that I can now hear it in the house.

And he says in his typical rude, cranky old bastard tone “Yeah, well I have to look at your trash can sitting out front all week.”

And I say “Yes, I know. But the new ones (we just got these new GIANT blue trash cans provided by the city to work with the new fancy schmancy automated trucks) are so wide, we can’t get it between the cars to put it away.”

(I’d like to note that we have a special paved area next to the street where we put the trash can and it’s obscured by this tree-bush thing. It’s very unobtrusive. He puts his can right IN the street. Idiot)

And he says “Yeah, well you should just move your cars.” And you should just BITE ME!

Now I’m getting pissed but I don’t want to fight with someone I have to live next door to so I DON’T say:

“Yeah, and we have to watch you mow your lawn while your rather unsightly ass is wearing a fricken speedo”

Or

“Yeah, and we have to listen to you blare Rush Limbaugh from your backyard every weekend while you nude sunbathe”

Or

“Yeah, but I have to listen to you gush about George Bush every time I get stuck talking to you and I bet it was YOU that set my John Kerry sign on fire a few years ago, you miserable asshat.”

I could go on and on but you get the point.

So all I say is “I’ll be sure to mention that to my husband” while gritting my teeth and promising myself that we will NEVER bring Monster Can up to the house EVER again.

When I return home, I relate the exchange to my husband and he gets pissed, too.

You should know that we are AWESOME neighbors. We are quiet, considerate, helpful and always friendly and had that butthead ever NICELY asked me to consider bringing the Monster Can up to the house, or anything else within reason, I would have begrudgingly tried to honor his request. Instead he uses it against me. Jerk.

I tell my husband to let it go because I don’t want to have a feud with Neighbor Guy and his Ukrainian mail-order bride (Seriously, the word on the street is he ordered her over the internet) or his teenage mail-order stepson that he works like an indentured servant. It’s just not worth it.

So we get the kids ready for bed and tuck them in and then while I’m out on the porch feeding the cat and musing over how we’re going to survive until 10:30pm, let alone Saturday, the pool pump starts making a new noise. A hideous scraping, clunking, winding down, death knell noise. And then it was very quiet.

Official time of death? 8:30pm

God. I LOVE that instant karma!

Do you have bad neighbors? How do you deal with them?

*This post is certified 100% drama, sad stuff and worry-free!

Making me happy:

• Fall. Yesterday was the first day that it seemed like fall (we barely have seasons in FL). The air felt different and the sun seemed a little less brutal and it’s been breezy and I’m in heaven. This is my most very favorite time of the year. For most people, spring is the season they associate with new beginnings but for me it’s always been fall. I feel carefree and cavalier and anything seems possible! (Of course, Florida being Satan’s Buttcrack, it’s likely it will get hot again before we have days like this every day).

• This book. Read the whole article if you have a couple minutes. While I’m not super-conservative in my own life, I kind of am with my kids (anyone who has read some of my rants about hoochie clothes and hoochie dolls and hoochie dolls with hoochie clothes knows this already) so when I read that the author talks about girls and young women rebelling against our culture’s constant sexualization of our gender, I feel happy.

• The state of my marriage. Things between my husband and myself are better than they’ve been in a long time. Do I still have moments of insecurity and doubt about us because of what he did? Indeed, I do. But I talk to him about it instead of acting out, which helps a lot.

Do I still feel scared that he will do it again or do something else to hurt me? Yes…but not often. Is he treating me the way I deserve to be treated; the way I’ve wanted to be treated for so long? Yes!

• The kindness and compassion of everyone who left comments on the post Of Guilt and Grief. You’re an amazing bunch of people. Oh, and all the people who supported me and didn’t give me any crap about wanting to leash my child, you rock, too :)

Thank you to Vicky for giving me a Perfect Post Award for Of Guilt and Grief. I’m honored and humbled :)

My God…does the drama of life ever end? It feels like I’ve been knee deep in it lately. This time, however, it’s not really my drama but it’s still heartbreakingly sad to watch someone slowly die, as my husband has for the past two weeks.

My father-in-law had cancer for four years. He thought he’d beaten it after the first two years until they found it had spread. For the next two years he suffered through chemotherapy and radiation, knowing it would never stop the cancer completely, though it gave him some relief from the terrible pain. He endured all of it because he didn’t want to leave his wife of fifty years. If there were ever an example of true love, my in-laws were it.

My mother-in-law took him to endless and seemingly daily doctor appointments and tried, in the face of futility, to make his discomforts bearable.

She catered to his every need and tried to make life as normal as possible, even when he couldn’t stand to eat because the chemo ruined his sense of taste and when he needed help getting to the bathroom several times a night because he could barely walk anymore.

The level of devotion between these two people was so touching. But it was also sad because we all knew how the story would eventually end.

A couple weeks ago he was hospitalized because, unbeknownst to anyone until then, the cancer had spread to his brain. From there it was a quick spiral downward. He was moved to a hospice where he was heavily medicated for pain and literally slept the entire four days he was there before he passed peacefully in his sleep.

I am relieved that his suffering is over but I am sad that he is gone. I’m sad that my son will never really get to know the man who, always sitting in his same chair, would light up when my little boy would stop running around and play with his grandpa’s shoes or or jibberjabber at him in his toddlerspeak.

I’m also feeling guilty for feeling uncomfortable around my father-in-law as he got sicker and sicker. For not stopping by on a lark with the kids like I used to do. For not reaching out and really letting him know that I cared.

This was not the first time I’ve backed away from someone that was ill. I had a friend from college and after I’d left school, we weren’t quite as close as we’d been. I heard he’d gone home to Maine because he had a brain tumor. I had the phone number where to reach him but I couldn’t bring myself to call. I kept saying to myself I would do it. Tomorrow. But that day never came. When I heard he’d died, I felt horrible.

It’s not that I’m afraid of illness or I think that I’ll catch it or anything ridiculous like that. I just don’t know what to say or do. I can’t sit there and pretend everything is fine when it isn’t. I can’t make pleasant small talk like everything is normal when I know someone is dying. I find great discomfort in discussing anything trivial, which most things are, because it feels like pretending. It feels wrong.

And yet, you can’t walk up to somebody with a terminal illness and just launch into a depressing conversation about their fate, about the unlucky hand they’ve been dealt.

I just don’t know how to act and ultimately I end up avoiding the whole situation.

We would go to my in-laws house for holidays or family get-togethers and I would go in the sunroom where he was always sitting and reading, working on his laptop, watching TV or napping and just hope that I wouldn’t have to converse with him alone for more than a few minutes. My son, an ever curious toddler, made it kind of easy, always giving me cause to get up and run after him in the interest of preventing injury or breakage.

Why couldn’t I just talk to him like everyone else did? Why was it so hard for me to look at his hairless head and shrinking frame? I don’t know.

I did always extend myself to my mother-in-law with offers to help with anything she needed and always sent my well wishes through her and in my prayers. But still… I feel guilt.

The only thing that makes me feel a tiny bit better is that while he was in the hospice, I took a few moments alone to talk to him, hoping he could hear me as he hovered somewhere between life and death.

I told him I was sorry that he had to go out that way. I thanked him for loving my children so much and being a wonderful grandpa to them. I thanked him for being a good father to my husband and in turn teaching him to be a good father to his own children. I asked him to try and wake up one last time to say goodbye to his wife before he let go. And I told him I loved him.

All of this has brought back a flood of memories of my own father’s unexpected death three years ago. Thankfully, my husband’s family is not like mine. We are a blended family and there is nothing simple about it.

When my father died, it seems like everyone (mainly my adopted sister, and stepsiblings) acted like their grief trumped everyone else’s. If someone cried too hard or emoted too loudly, they (including me) were made to feel like they were “carrying on” and that it was not warranted; that they had no right to be that grief-stricken or upset. That their sadness was not as important as someone else’s.

It was a horrible, horrible time and because of their strange sense of possessiveness over grieving, over who had the right to grieve most or be the saddest, my sister and I no longer speak.

I know my dad is watching us and probably cursing both of us for being so hardheaded and childish but we are at an impasse. I can’t overlook how she and her husband treated me in the face of a terrible loss and she can’t overlook a slight that never happened except in her very chip-shouldered imagination.

My husband’s family is the complete opposite. They are warm and kind and loving and supportive and would never in a million years treat each other or my husband that way. He really doesn’t know how lucky he is. Or maybe he does now.

And now you know that my sister and I don’t speak anymore, that I have issues with terminal illness and why I haven’t posted in a week.

If I owe you an email or said I would do something and didn’t do it, you also now know the reason.

I’m doing the best I can to catch up now that the funeral is behind us.

I want nothing more than to get back to our routine and resume my regular, boring old life with no more sadness and no more drama. PLEASE.

No, no, it’s not what you think. Though some would probably cheer me on if I was out looking for a new man, that’s not quite the case.

I’m actually looking for moms to date. Well, not to date exactly but something like that. I want to meet them for kid playdates during the day and for grown-up playdates at night.

I’ve decided that I need to find some local friends as cool as the ones in the little white box on my desk (uh…that would be you guys). My closest IRL friends live in other states and my friendships here with other moms are mostly based on the friendships shared by our kids.

It’s not that they aren’t nice people because they are but I’m not sure I can spend one more afternoon with someone who doesn’t get my sense of humor or weird pop culture references, who doesn’t understand irony or someone who doesn’t appreciate or utilize sarcasm from time to time. Am I shallow or narcissistic because I want to be with people who are more like me?

I just know my tribe is out there somewhere so, at the recommendation of a very lame local mom website, I’ve started perusing Meetup.com and looking for moms or mom groups in my city that sound like my kind of people. This is where it starts to feel like dating.

Let’s see…there are the working moms groups, the homeschooling moms groups, the moms groups identified by their locale, the Christian moms groups, the “Chic Moms” group and the “MILF” moms group, just to name a few.

I’m not sure I fit with most of the aforementioned but I’m intrigued by the MILF group because I’m curious to know what women who identify themselves as such are like. Are they wild and crazy? Fun loving? Exceedingly attractive? I have no idea but I’m betting they’re not gonna be scrapbooking or playing Bunco on Friday nights and that’s a pretty big plus in my book.

The “Chic Moms” are probably not my type at all. I may not be trouncing around in mom jeans or holiday-themed sweatshirts but I don’t own any pricey handbags and I don’t buy trendy, expensive, designer clothing because I’d rather have something like an iPhone or a lot of massages or Thai every Friday night. So yeah…my lack of “chic” might be a turn off for them and probably not lead to second date.

And there’s always The MOMS Club. Nothing against TMC as I used to belong to one and even founded a chapter, but I’m just so tired of everyone putting their Perfect Mommy masks on and never taking them off.

It may not be like that everywhere but here? Those mommy masks are welded on pretty damn tight and I just can’t hang out with people who won’t admit that parenthood is hard and sometimes isolating and frequently all-consuming.

I can’t hang out with people who never swear and never lose their tempers and won’t admit that they look forward to bedtime. Their kids bedtime.

I just can’t.

Is it me? Am I being too picky? Is it wrong to not want to compromise anymore?

When the hell did making friends get so hard and so farking complicated?

•••••••• On a completely different note, I’d like to make a little announcement about Moms Speak Up, a group blog and labor of love for myself and several other amazing, passionate women who have things to say about the state of the world in which we live and the things we want to change.Come by and check us out. New contributors are always welcome!

Normally, I wouldn’t devote a blog post to my birthday but dudes — it’s the big 4-0!

I feel almost obligated to note the day even though I don’t feel any older than I did last week or even last year (and in some ways, I actually feel better).

“WHAT??? How can that be?” you say! Has she lost her mind?

It’s true, though.

Recent unpleasant circumstances notwithstanding, I feel more confident in who I am now than I did when I was thirty.

I feel more free to speak my mind and I also find it easier to not sweat the small stuff and I feel like I have a much better grasp on what’s truly important in life.

And? I don’t care about cellulite so much anymore. I know…total bonus, right?

Also, please correct me if if I’m wrong, all you forty plus ladies out there, but isn’t this supposed to be about the time we start hitting our sexual peak?

DO TELL

Inquiring forty and almost forty year old minds want to know!

A great big thank you to my friend Shannon of Believer in Balance for giving me a Perfect Post Award for “How I wish.” This is turning out to be a pretty good day after all :)

I feel a little silly saying this, like I’m giving a speech or something, but before I embark on another post about the status of my marriage I’d like to thank each and every one of you that left comments and sent private emails of support.

There are simply no words to describe how much they meant to me and how much they helped me to not feel so alone during one of the most gut-wrenchingly awful times of my adult life.

I’ve spent a lot of time away from my computer these past few days but during the times that I would sit down to check my email, it wasn’t at all unusual for me to be in tears as I read your words and felt your collective arms propping me up when I needed it the most, sharing your wisdom and in some cases, your own trials in similar circumstances…

I wish there was some way to show you how much I appreciate the way all of you, both friends and total strangers, reached out to me. I wish there was a way to somehow repay you for your kindness. I’m sorry I wasn’t able to thank each of you personally, though I wanted to, and I want you to know that EACH AND EVERY email and comment was read and re-read and your words and well wishes were taken to heart.

You’ve helped me more than you know. Thank you, my friends.

••••••••

I’ve spent the past several days thinking deeply about my life, my marriage and my children. During the day, my husband and I try to be “normal” for the kids. No matter what I’ve been feeling inside, I want things to carry on as normally as possible for them.

We’ve spent several long evenings talking very honestly about a lot of things; things that we should have sorted out a long time ago. If anything good has come out of this, it’s that.

I’m still very hurt about the way he betrayed me — and with whom. My stomach still churns and roils every time I think about it. Or even if I do something as simple as look at the chair on our porch that he sat in for months both iChatting (voice chat over the internet) and emailing so intimately with his ex. Right under my nose, I might add.

I still feel like a total idiot for not trusting my instincts when a few months ago I noticed him being very secretive about his email (closing it every time I came near his computer) and asked about him about it.

I still wonder if I will ever be able to trust him again.

And yet, after much soul-searching and a lot of talking and a lot of brutal honesty, I feel like there’s still a chance for us if I want there to be.

I know you might be wondering how any woman in her right mind would choose to stick around for another potential helping of humiliation…

A woman who cares about her family, I guess.

A woman who is herself not perfect.

A woman who, while married (before kids), found herself tempted by another but had the good sense to move away from the edge of that particular abyss before it swallowed her whole.

I didn’t want to hurt him. I didn’t want to ruin my marriage even though this other person made me feel wanted and desirable and special in ways my husband no longer did.

And yes, it still stings to think about the fact that my husband didn’t give me that same consideration.

We both realize now that we were much younger and much less mature when the seeds of our current problems were first sown and we didn’t even fully realize what was happening to us. We didn’t know how to fix what we didn’t understand.

Some big walls went up between us and while we were still happy enough to be able to make our marriage work in most ways and even start a family, we put “us” and our issues on the back burner for a really, really long time. I suspect a lot of married couples do this, ignoring the elephant in the room until it gets so big that something has to give.

In our case, that something was this.

A betrayal.

An “emotional” affair that, given enough time, might have resulted in a physical affair.

When I strip away everything else, any sort of understanding of how we got here, I still feel angry as hell and hurt and deceived and foolish and everything else that goes along with such a betrayal.

But life doesn’t exist in a vacuum so the “hows and whys” of how we got here are pivotal. And while I in NO WAY blame myself for his selfishness, for doing what he did, I am at least partially to blame for our pre-existing problems. I know that much is true and for that I do accept my part of the responsibility.

And what does he have to say about all of this?

To paraphrase:

He didn’t do it “to me” or rather, he didn’t mean to. It just happened. BLECH!

It became a distraction from real life and the challenges and responsibilities that come with it. This I somewhat understand

It was an ego stroking for him. This, too

He still loves me. I believe this

This didn’t happen because of any shortcomings on my part. I want to believe this

He says if he’d never been deceptive in the first place about the fact that she’d contacted him, maybe it wouldn’t have become this secret, illicit fixation and they would really be JUST friends. Knowing what I know now and what I know of her, I can only say that I’d never be okay with it.

He has agreed willingly to cut ties with her.

He still thinks counseling would be good for us.

He’s answered all my nine million questions. I believe he’s been honest, even at the risk of causing me pain.

I’ve made it clear that any sort of reconciliation is contingent upon his severing of all ties with her. They can’t be friends. They can’t be friendly. They can’t be anything. I’ve gotten no argument about it.

My one remaining concern is that later this year he’s taking a class in the city where she lives. He assures me he won’t see her. Thinking about this also makes my stomach churn.

Make no mistake… I’m still hurting over this. I’m still wary. I’m still second-guessing myself. But as so many of you advised, I need to know that I gave it my best shot. I need to know that I did everything I could. And so I’m trying to be mature and resist my impulses to act out and make things worse and I’m going to give my marriage a chance.

And that’s where we’re at now.

Will we be in a better or worse place tomorrow or next week or next month?

I wish I knew.

••••••••

Again, thank you all for everything. I’m not sure I’d be this sane without your compassion and support.

And thank you to my Apryl, my BFF, for listening to me through all of this, for helping me to be rational when all I wanted to do was cry like a baby and for standing by me through all the the dramas of my life for 30+ years.