Tag: family

What I Wish I Knew During Divorce

Published on by TheMotherOctopus2 Comments

This post is in collaboration with TIAA to empower women experiencing divorce, encouraging them to take control of their financial future.

I was an actual stay-at-home mom for 9 days. About 6 months prior to being laid off from my publishing job in Manhattan I’d begun customizing photo mats for picture frames as gifts for friends. Nine days after I was laid off, I opened an Etsy shop and sold mats and frames from my house for years.

My first year I netted over 20k. It was such a great set up. I was home with my son and able to get my 4 year old daughter on and off the bus for preschool each day. I was present in our home, I was supplementing my husband’s income and I felt like that was enough. I never thought that I would need to start putting away money, especially JUST for myself.

My husband and I didn’t share a checking account. I had my money from my Etsy shop, a credit card for groceries and gas, and he had access to everything else. I did not. It wasn’t a matter of him keeping me from anything. I never wanted for anything (except all the gorgeous things I used to splurge on at Anthropologie when I was making 6 figures before I decided to stay home). I didn’t see a need to have any other involvement with what money came in, what money came out or what money was saved. I left it all in his hands.

Looking back, I realize I avoided asking about and being involved in finances for two reasons. The first reason was fear of being told we didn’t have enough money. I never thought it was the case, but I think I was worried that I’d be told that we had to scale back even though. We never lived lavishly but BUDGET has always been kind of a dirty word to me. What do you mean that I can only spend a certain amount of money? The thought of being cut off from or even not being able to meet a monthly budget is scary. In my “past life” I should have been on a strict budget since we were really only a single income family.

The second reason was fear of being overwhelmed. Financial responsibility was, and still is, a curtain I don’t want to see behind.

What I found out soon after my husband left is that we weren’t as set up as I thought we were. We still owe a ton of money on a mortgaged out 3 bedroom cape on Long Island, which I’ll be taking over as part of my divorce. I have ZERO retirement of my own. Yes, I’ll be getting a portion of my husband’s pension but that will only go so far.

How could I be so blind to not have a better plan for myself? I should have been forcing myself to earn more during the time I was home. How will I be able to provide for my kids as a freelancer writer and part time daycare employee? Will I be able to pay the mortgage, the bills AND save for the future? These are questions I wouldn’t have been able to answer on my own, but now I have the answers.

The more you immerse yourself in situations and/or things that bring you anxiety, the less you become afraid and locking down a financial advisor and asking questions I never wanted to ask has been key. It IS overwhelming, but now I know that it isn’t impossible.

I’m excited to learn about ways that I can provide for myself and my kids, BY MYSELF. It’s another powerful arm propping me up in my new-found independence. And the more I learn now, the better it will be every day going forward. You can learn from my divorce experiences too on the latest from TIAA.

Oh and that dirty word I used to hate? Budget? From now on, budget is where I live. It’s a means of security and comfort for me. No longer and never again, a dirty word.

Finding Your Way Financially Through Divorce

Published on by TheMotherOctopus1 Comment

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This post is in collaboration with TIAA to empower women experiencing divorce, encouraging them to take control of their financial future.

I grew up watching my mother on the news. She was a VP at the local hospital and would regularly be featured on the news talking about renovations or goings-on there. We were a two income family, but I was always impressed that my mom was “handlin’ her bidness” like a girlboss.

When I graduated college and went directly into magazine publishing in Manhattan in 2000, I guess I considered myself a second generation girlboss. I got married in 2004 and had kids in 2007 and 2010 and in the 10 years that I worked in publishing, I became the breadwinner in my own household. Living on Long Island, the 3 hour round trip daily commute took its toll and in 2010, I stopped working outside the home.

When I left my job to stay home with my kids, I was earning more than my husband would earn for years to come. A great deal of pride accompanied that income, not because of the number, but because I’d earned it. It was ours, but I’d earned it. I’d contributed to our family financially. When I stopped earning, I stopped being involved in our family finances at all. My husband had a stable, tenured teaching job in a great district. We never lived lavishly, but we didn’t need for anything. Everything on that end was under control and taken care of. By my husband. I had no interest in being involved because I didn’t think I’d ever need to be.

That is, until last October, when I was blindsided by my husband’s request for a divorce after 13 years of marriage. Having not worked outside the home for over 7 years, and having not contributed to any kind of retirement account for myself for that long, now I was faced with taking on a hefty monthly mortgage payment, the bills that accompanied that, and oh, the rest of my financial future. Alone.

The whirlwind of divorce is all-encompassing, especially when you’re a mother and you have kids to tap dance for. We spend all our time convincing them that “mommy’s fine,”, “everything’s fine” and “everything’s going to be OK,”, when we know most of that is largely untrue.

Then the process of emotional and mental healing begins. We put all our energy into getting on with our lives. For me, a writer, financial planning is the 400th thing on the list of 100 things I’m trying to avoid. And it stresses me out. A LOT.

If you find yourself in my situation, I urge you to take action sooner rather than later. TIAA offers excellent tools that will help you take control of your financial future whether it’s saving for college or managing your retirement plan. Without their help, I’d still be terrified of where I’ll be 20 years from now.

I am constantly kicking myself for not taking a more active role in my own financial future. Educating myself on simple things like managing budgets and putting away money, even in small amounts, that would add up to big time self-support if I ever needed it. I wish someone had sat me down as soon as I graduated college and told me to get a financial planner. Even if it was just to learn the basics. I’d have been so much better off last October.

The good news is that I’m a fast learner and the very good news is that there is help for women who find themselves in situations like mine. When TIAA contacted me to speak about my experience with the financial fallout of divorce, I learned that there are tools available out there to lift some of the burden of this tough time for me and my family.

Not only am I certain that I will be able to achieve financial independence by giving myself the knowledge and power to manage my money, I’m looking forward to it. And I’m looking forward to the confidence I’ll regain when I do.

Perfectly Content Heart

Published on by TheMotherOctopus1 Comment

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This is the most pure love of the day. It’s not always pretty, but it’s beautiful. Waking up slowly in a little pile of smelly human love. My perfectly insane, small humans.

Permanent damage to my vertebrae is a small price to pay for waking up with these two midnight marauders. I go to sleep alone and wake up as the sugary goodness in an offspring Oreo.

Everyone’s breath is awful, someone’s always farting, and inevitably, there’s a short commentary about morning wood. We giggle and snuggle and talk about nonsense. It’s before the day’s frustrations have set in and we’re all still hazy with the soft happiness of sleep.

I never want to stop waking up with them. I never want these tiny moments of raw togetherness with them to end.

They are what tethers me to the planet most days and I don’t want them to grow another minute older.

I want to freeze the three of us in this stinky pile of love so the only thing that continues to move and grow is my perfectly content heart.

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The Little Girl Watching Me

Published on by TheMotherOctopus1 Comment

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All of the important messages of speaking out impacted me at last night’s Golden Globes, but there was a line in Oprah’s speech that resonated with me the most. And in a different way.  Really, just a fragment of a line.

She said, “In 1982, Sidney (Poitier) received the Cecil B. DeMille award right here at the Golden Globes and it is not lost on me that at this moment, there are some little girls watching as I become the first black woman to be given this same award.”

Something there spoke to me unexpectedly in my new year of trying to be brave. I mean, I don’t think I’ll be winning any awards in the near future, but what I do know is that “at this moment, there are some little girls watching.” In my case, one little girl. My 10 year old daughter, Ollie.

This time, this divorce, as hard as it is on me, is having an effect on my kids. I can’t tell fully yet what it is, but I know it has to be. None of us can suddenly be thrust into this and be able to make sense of it, especially not my kids. Their dad moves out and their parents no longer speak. I think that’s enough for gravity to let go of all of us and let us float off into outerspace.

What I realized, though, is that she is looking at me and looking to me. Watching me, to see how I recoil from this. I’m her compass. She’s looking at me to show her the way. And she’ll follow. Every tear I shed affects her. Every time she catches me lingering in bed a little too long scares her. Every reaction I have everyday informs her on how to feel.

So I have to fight. Not even for me. For her. So that if, when she grows up, some man does this to her, she’ll have a map on how to get herself back. She won’t define herself by the love of a man or the pain that he can cause. She won’t allow her self-worth to be compromised by staying with someone who is indifferent to it. She’ll look back at this time and remember watching me fight my way back to earth and she’ll know to do the same.

Right now, the most important little girl is watching me. I’ll be composed on the outside and I’ll be clawing my way back on the inside because someday I want her to want to be like me. And that can’t happen if she watches me disappear.

If you’re struggling in a way that threatens your survival – put up a fight. I don’t mean struggling to make ends meet. I mean if you feel yourself spinning out to space. If you can see your whole self disappearing – fight like your life depends on it. Because there’s someone who needs you to come back. And they’re watching.

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Bravery in 2018

Published on by TheMotherOctopus2 Comments

I had to be brave today. I didn’t believe I could do it. My mother looked at me and said, “You’re going to breathe through it and the message you’re going to send is that he can knock you down but he can’t keep you down.” I said to her, “He doesn’t care either way.” And she said, “But you do.” So I did it. I was brave.

At the end of my reiki session last week, the therapist asked me to write down an affirmation to take with me and told me to put it somewhere that I could see it all the time. She told me to write “I AM COMPLETE. I AM ENOUGH.” I cried. I couldn’t write it. Because I don’t believe it. YET.

2017 has been 100 years for me. I was stretching my tentacles for much of it. Reaching out to myself and out of myself. Embracing the experience of writing and making people laugh with 8 open arms. I was coming back from a dark place I’d put myself in and I was beginning to reclaim a little bit of my power. Until October 6th when I was shot down out of the sky by the person I loved the most and who I believed loved me the most. All three of my octopus hearts, broken.

Now, the thing I’m believing in the most is bravery. Hoping I can believe bravery into reality and back into my hearts. Bravery to face betrayal. Bravery to face the pain. Bravery to believe that I’ll get to the other side of this. Bravery to tell myself that the happiness ahead will be what I deserved all along. Bravery to allow myself to believe that one day soon, I WILL BE COMPLETE and I WILL BE ENOUGH.

Wishing you bravery so big it fills all three of your octopus hearts in 2018.

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On Following Your Motherf*cking Dreams

Published on by TheMotherOctopus19 Comments

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This is a cardboard box. It came to my house this past Saturday around 12:30 p.m. I get all kinds of boxes delivered here. Boxes of swim equipment for my son. Boxes of pool parts for my husband. Boxes of clothes for my daughter. But I’ve never received a box like this. This 6 inch square, corrugated cardboard box held my motherf*cking dream come true.

We all grow up dreaming that we want to be one thing or do another when we’re older. Things that maybe seem impractical once the confines of reality set in – time, bills, kids. Things we decide we aren’t smart enough or skilled enough or matched properly for. And we let go of those dreams to do what sustains us. That’s life. It happens.

I realized my dream in 1993 when my brother died and my life cracked open. I was 16 and began to write to fill in that chasm of pain. I went on to college for my writing degree, concentrating in poetry, and believe it or not, I wasn’t half bad. I loved it but, you might have heard, poetry doesn’t pay the bills. After college, I began a career in the advertising arm of publishing. Got married. Had kids. Eventually, my dream of writing was left behind so that I could do what moms do – help my family follow their own motherf*cking dreams.

I became a SAHM and started a small business where I work alone. I began to feel extremely depressed – isolated and unfulfilled. All my life I’d questioned my intelligence and that insecurity had taken some major hits in the last few years. I realized I had to go back to my dream if I wanted to try to save myself to be any good for anyone else. So on October 18, 2016, I started The Mother Octopus. And let me tell you something. A lot really can happen in a year.

Last February, I began to make memes for my Instagram and Facebook accounts as part of my blog’s presence and quickly realized that I loved making them. I was good at making them. I’ve continued writing and have had some great response to my blog, including one post that went viral. I started to feel proud of myself. I started to think that maybe I could do this.

I began following a lot of other writers, mom bloggers and meme makers, I noticed many of them in Scary Mommy t-shirts. Lots of them were either staff writers or contributors at Scary Mommy. So very early on, I made becoming a Scary Mommy contributor and getting that t-shirt a goal for myself. I saw that t-shirt as a major rite of passage, validation that I could do this. And on Saturday, around 12:30 p.m., that t-shirt arrived at my house in the 6 inch square cardboard box above. I have an author page at ScaryMommy.com and I have a job making memes for them. My motherf*cking dream is now my reality.

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For many years I felt like what I had to say wasn’t important. My dreams of being a wife and mom had been realized and now my job was to keep my head above water and so that everyone else could realize their dreams. I bring my daughter to piano lessons because I believe that is what she’s meant to do. I bring my son to swim practice because I believe that is what he’s meant to do. What I’m learning is that in order to be a better mom and wife, I have to strive for what validates me. I’m no good if I’m not nurturing my own desire to succeed in what I believe I’m meant to do.

So, if you have a dream that you’ve buried in the back story of your life, under the chaos of schedules and clutter of other obligations, DIG IT OUT. You’re going to come to a point in your life when everyone else’s dream is coming true and there won’t be time left for yours. If you dream of going back to school so you can change careers, go back. If you dream of starting your own business so you have more time for your family, start it. Whatever it is, DO IT. NOW. Your 6 inch square cardboard box is out there and your motherf*cking dream is waiting inside of it.

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The Family We Make For Ourselves

Published on by TheMotherOctopus9 Comments

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This is my daughter Olivia brushing her friend Ellie’s hair. I took this photo when my family was visiting my best friend Nichole’s family last spring. Ellie is Nichole’s daughter. The girls didn’t know it at the time, and they still don’t, but it was the weekend they became best friends.

It was Saturday morning and I’d slept in the kids’ room with all 4 kids in case mine woke up during the night. The kids got up early and headed downstairs to play. I heard some husband voices down there, so I continued to doze, a little wine soaked from the night before. A while later I woke up to the sound of the girls chatting in Nichole’s large closet, attached to the kid’s bedroom. The door was cracked enough so I could see Olivia brushing Ellie’s hair. I quickly got out of bed and crept in to snap a few pictures before they could protest.

A little background. Nichole and I come from a long line of best friends. Our grandmothers were neighbors and close friends, so our fathers had always been close. When Nichole was born 6 months after me, our best friend destiny was sealed. That was 40 years ago.

Nichole and I in 1982.

Now, the 5-hour distance between my Long Island home and Nichole’s Syracuse home makes it difficult for us to get together as much as we’d like. We had a great weekend with them and our kids cried when it was time to say goodbye. On the car ride back to Long Island, going through the photos on my phone, I came across the hair brushing pictures. All bleary-eyed and probably recovering from the night before, I’d forgotten I took those.

An Instagram fan, I quickly added a few filters to it and posted it to my FB page. It wasn’t until a few hours later that I looked at the picture again and got chills, suddenly remembering the last time Nichole had brushed my hair. The morning after my brother died. The day she became my sister.

It was July 8, 1993. She and I were 16. My brother J.P. had died suddenly the day before from cardiac arrest following a bout of heatstroke. He was 19. Nichole slept in my bed with me and woke up next to me with the confirmation that the day before hadn’t been a nightmare like I hoped. That morning I went to the funeral home with my parents, somehow thinking they could use my support. I didn’t last long and I ended up on the front steps of the funeral home in the hot summer sun waiting for my aunt to pick me up.

Getting back to the house, Nichole was still there. I played Wish You Were Here by Pink Floyd on repeat because my brother used to play it. I sat on the floor dazed and she sat behind me and brushed my long brown hair while the music blared. Because the days that followed were such a blur, I hadn’t thought of that moment in 24 years. What seemed like a small gesture at the time now reveals itself to me as the moment she stepped into her rightful role as my heart’s mender and still now, my heart’s protector.

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Nichole & I in 2017.

I’m not writing this to rehash the feelings of that awful time. I’m writing this because when I looked back at the picture of Olivia brushing Ellie’s hair, it struck me that what Nichole and I share, our girls have begun to share. It was a strange and beautiful feeling. They’re 10 and 7. Their 3-year age difference was palpable until that weekend when I took this picture and they became inseparable.

I remembered Nichole’s grandmother telling me stories about my own grandmother. I wondered how many times they’d laughed together or consoled each other or stood together in front of a mirror while they prepared for a night out with our grandfathers. I wondered if they’d had any idea that something as simple as their friendship would become so much more for Nichole and I and now for our kids. I wonder how happy they’d be to see their granddaughters and their great granddaughters sharing the same bond they shared almost 80 years earlier.

This picture is the culmination of 40 years of laughter, tears, firsts, lasts, fights, failures and triumphs I shared with Nichole. I realized our daughters will have that together now. That’s the legacy we’ve passed on to them.

When I look back at the picture of Olivia brushing Ellie’s hair, I hope one day our girls will realize that they’re so much more than “fourth generation besties”. I hope they’ll understand that sometimes the best kind of family is the kind you find outside your bloodlines. It’s the family that somehow becomes your family through the opening and rending of your hearts and the experience of shared joy. It’s the family we make for ourselves.

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