I’m so angry. So irrationally angry. I’m overworked and sleep deprived. I thought I’d have the weekend to relax, be productive, catch up. I thought you’d be away, but at the last minute you invited me to VT. You offered your time which is all I ever want, but it’s complicated time. It’s hard time. And I know I need to stay put. To recoup. To decompress. I know in my heart it’s what I need for my own sanity, but giving up time with you is one of the hardest things for me. It’s so limited already. So, I’m angry. I’m frustrated. I should have said yes. I should have sucked it up for us. You went to VT without me, seemingly without caring whether I am there or not. Irrationally, I wish you stayed, to be with me. I wish you chose me, but I know I would have just felt guilt.

Little known fact- single dads make out in the long run. If they are willing to put in the work and put the kid first, they get more quality time than a married dad ever will. Single dads don’t have backup. When they are with their kids, they have to be all in, making dinner, helping with homework, advising on relationships, handling meltdowns, doing tuck-ins, and reading stories. Mom is not there to do the heavy lifting. It’s hard and scary (it is for moms too), but what an impact they will have on their child if they do. What a gift for them to have him in their lives, all to themselves, doing the work to help them succeed. It’s a beautiful thing

Quality, not quantity.

Life is too short to consider suicide

It’s not our place to judge

Does anyone ever post original content on this thing?

I was busy wasting time until I met you

It’s finally here. The first day of 6th and 8th.

Her- impatiently waiting, excited beyond measure, carefully planning and anticipating, packing and repacking. The outfit- khaki skirt and yellow tee (her signature color). Breakfast- cereal with fruit and a piece of toast. Outlook- Ready to take on the year.

Him- ready. Not ready. His outfit- to be determined. His backpack- just found last night. breakfast- goat cheese omelet with fruit and toast, he’s a growing boy. Outlook- positive.

Me- excited to hear about new friends and new adventures, glad to be back in routine, wistfully watching as time goes by and they grow up. Outlook- excited and nervous

For me, that has changed over time, but no truer words…

The in-crowd is highly overrated

"Disability"

He was tested and questioned and analyzed over a period of 4 days, for 1-3 hours per day. The results were as I expected, similar to the results from the last 2 times he'd gone through this. He had minor issues with slow processing speed, but otherwise, no deficits. No ADD, no ADHD, no autism, no disabilities. He's intelligent, scored in the average to high average in every category, with one or two low averages in the mix and a few "very highs" as well. To appease his dad, they will be giving him an IEP, which in his case means longer time to take tests, check-ins during independent assignments, and limited oral reading participation.

His father still wasn't happy. He thinks there is a bigger problem. He thinks he has ADD. He wants more. "Why, after 3 rounds of testing, are we still getting the same results", he asked?? "Maybe this test is accurate. Maybe there ISN'T actually a problem", I said. The team of specialists argued with him as well. They told him that at his age (13), kids' grades fluctuate. They are dealing with a lot at this age, going through puberty, still trying to figure things out, learning the best way to do things. His father said that we have gotten multiple emails from his teachers describing theses distraction issues. I told him that he was the one to instigate most of these emails and meetings. He argued that our pediatrician diagnosed him with ADD. I replied that she compared forms filled out by us, his parents, and his teachers. She reiterated what I told her was the result of previous testing (she never read the reports), but she didn’t actually evaluated him herself. She never questioned him or checked him over. How is she qualified to make that diagnosis? They, again, appeased his dad by giving him a 504 Plan, which apparently will follow him through life. I mean, how is that even possible? When looking up what a 504 Plan is, the description uses the term "disability" over and over. How did he manage to get my kid a plan to that extent when 3 tests proved that there’s nothing wrong with him?

Yes, he can be distracted and yes, he's a dreamer, but it's nothing more than that. He's smart and capable, he just has to want to do it. His father needs to look like a "good dad". Instead of supporting and loving him, he does this. Makes mountains out of molehills. Gets everyone involved. Causes chaos and makes a scene. He doesn't want to parent, he wants to get perfect results with zero effort. This change of school was supposed to be our fresh start, but he won't let that happen. We have been here one year and already we have a reputation.

Work, kids, activities, meals, chores, repeat. Over and over, never ending. You’re busy. I’m busy. Constant phone tag. Trying to connect and failing. Today’s over. Maybe tomorrow.

I know it was a joint decision. I understand that it is what’s best. Most days I’m in full agreement, but every once in a while I’m sad. I’m jealous. I’m frustrated. I wonder what it would have been like if we weren’t in hiding, if we were free to do as we pleased. It’s selfish. It’s not about me and what I want. It’s about them and what’s best, the ones who are most important. So I smile and support and praise. I never let my true feeling show.

NYC will always be my home, even now that I’m in the suburbs.

Support the Bahamas. Many citizens live without running water, electricity and indoor plumbing. They lack work and food, and even the jobs they do have don’t pay a living wage. Most children quit school after ninth grade so they can help support their family. This poverty leads to drug use, stealing, and killing. Their government lines their pockets with money that should go toward giving them a better life. We sit in our fancy resorts immune to their suffering a mere mile or two away.