Wednesday, December 31, 2014

Because We Are All Soooo 2015

Happy New Years everyone!!!  As 2014 loudly for some, and quietly for others slips away, I wanted to take this opportunity to wish all of you a Happy New Years on behalf of The Ex-Wives.

In true typical NYE fashion I also want to issue all of you a challenge  Don't worry - this one doesn't involve a long list of DONT'S (like not eating carbs) rather just one thing to DO. (Yay for us!)

See, I was excited for my New Years this year too.  Particularly New Years Eve, as I was supposed to be sipping fruity non-kid friendly drinks with umbrellas filled with unfiltered water and God knows what in Mexico and then hop on a boat and conga line my way into 2015 in a gorgeous Anthropologie dress, sparkly gold shoes, and no doubt a noise maker with lipstick and champagne stains (mine, others, who cares, ole!).  And that was going to be bueno, actually muy bueno.  

But plans changed.  Quickly.  As in 6 hours before I was to be picked up for my flight.  

Instead, I changed courses (and flights!) unpacking my tropical vacation suitcase full of color and vibrant warm weather clothes for the frozen tundra of Middle State Michigan far from tropical gloves, and hats, and sweaters, and sweatpants.  I am currently wearing all of the aforementioned in addition to wearing my winter coat as I type in my mothers house in Kalamazoo watching the snow fall as we get ready to go to a church to hear tubas play.  (No - I couldn't make that up even if I wanted too…)  

I could go on with the whole story on how my gifted tropical vacation from the boy I now used to date called me 6 hours before our trip to tell me "I'm just not excited" and he just needed me to talk to him so he could make up his mind if we should really go.  I could go on about the fact I was in the ER the day before for non-stop vomiting.  I could go on about how this was going to be one of the very few times away from my son for more than 3 days without me being sick or in a hospital, ever.  I could go on about how I had to move heaven and earth to make all of this trip of ours happen - as all single mothers do.  But I won't.

I won't because this year I will be re-writing all of my stories.  And I'm challenging all of you to do the same.

That's right - I am done telling the stories (well not the realllly funny ones because they're normally pretty worth it) that send an ounce of bad energy into the world or pain or conjures up a vision of me wearing a name tag that says Hello My Name Is: VICTIM.  Bad energy for me, bad energy for "what happened", bad anything that drains instead of fills is so 2014.  And we lovely ladies, are so not last year…  We are sooo 2015.

This doesn't mean bad things won't happen - that's not real life - you and I know that.  Some of us know this a little too much, in fact we would like to un-friend it on Facebook if we could.  I just refuse to give life to things that steal an ounce of my or any ones joy in 2015.  

I'm hoping you feel the same way and join me in declaring to the world, the Universe, to God, to Oprah (I swear Oprah is the adult version of Santa Claus to me…) to whomever you feel guides your spirit and makes your soul sing in key that we are ready to re-write our everyday stories.  Because even though they sometimes start without us doesn't mean they need to end without us stealing the pen back.

So with much adieu, I am pleased to present my re-written New Years week and Eve story.  And it goes a little somethin' like this (picture that sang rap Diddy style):
- Decent boy meets beautiful on the inside and out happy girl.
- Nice enough boy wants smart and creative girl full of sunshine and she says okay.
- Ordinary boy needs to either hatch or go bad - because nobody (including good energy girl) wants just a decent egg.
- Boy goes bad week before New Years trip and expires 6 hours before departure with fabulous full of life girl who now fashionably has a new Anthropologie tropical dress collection.
- Girl is happy and relieved - because breaking up with a decent egg is really hard to do, but a bad egg… you just scrape down the drain and continue cooking.

And the fairy tale ending to my rewritten story...
- Groovy Girl fishes her wish.  Instead of bringing in 2015 somewhere warm with a cold heart, she brings in 2015 somewhere cold with a VERY warm heart, because she is surrounded by those that bring her love and joy and happiness.  And her end is just her beginning to a very BRIGHT 2015.

We hope all of your 2015's are rewritten the very same way - written by YOU in a way that reminds you how wonderful, and loving, and DESERVING OF JOY you really are - no matter where you are in the last hours of 2014 or what your past stories are.  

So get out a new pen Girlfriend, because your 2015 is ready to be written… And I just know it's going to be a good, if not the best, story you will ever tell.

Happy New Year!!! 

Love, Valerie (Of V & H of The Ex-Wives)



Wednesday, December 24, 2014

Love & Christmas

It's Christmas eve and my house is bursting at the seams...there are cookie crumbs EVERYWHERE, dishes (and laundry) piled a mile high, and kids running around like maniacs, stir crazy thanks to 3 consecutive days of RAIN. Yes, indeed, it's beginning to look a lot like Christmas.

Last week Valerie and I mutually agreed it would be fun to dish each week following the Girlfriends' Guide to Divorce episodes (airing Tuesdays on Bravo @ 10pm). Well, last night was Tuesday and whaddya know...at some point this week one of our lovely offspring managed to hack into our DVR and delete our family settings...so guess what? I haven't seen it. My parents are visiting from Florida and we've had nonstop Christmas movie marathons every night...last night was no exception. 

If you're reading this blog today with a heart full of love, happiness and Christmas cheer, then congratulations friend, enjoy it. But let's be clear...there are plenty of you reading this post that feel like shit and would prefer to jump off a cliff rather than celebrate Christmas tomorrow.

My first Christmas without my kids was by far the worst Christmas ever. I wrote about it last year, so I won't bore you with the details again, but I want to be honest...those feelings never really go away.

Yesterday I dropped my girls off with their dad and instantly had a pit in my stomach...saying goodbye to them never gets easier, especially during the holidays. They will spend Christmas Eve with him, and wake up with him on Christmas morning. I will call to wish them a merry Christmas only to receive a distracted "Hi mommy! guess what Santa brought us!?", and hang up and cry.

Why?

Because 3pm on Christmas just isn't the same as waking up with them on Christmas morning.

If you've been divorced for a while you know exactly what I'm talking about. If you're new to this dilemma the best advice I could give you is to let it out, cry the tears, and feel the pain. It is normal. And whatever you do, don't sit at home alone. Find someone, ANYONE, to hang out with.

On days like this it's hard not to look back at the ghosts of Christmas past. Maybe you lived in a world that appeared as perfect as your Christmas card and Facebook posts, but in reality it was a crumbling mess. Or perhaps you really believed your marriage was everything you thought it was, only to have it blow up in your face. Regardless of your circumstances, I challenge you to make new memories and new traditions this year.

My Christmas wish for those suffering loss this year is that somehow you receive God's grace and love. Only this will open your heart to loving like you've never known before, and ultimately living like you've never lived before.

This Christmas give yourself the gift of love, and if you have children that are suffering show them as much love as you can. This is truly the best gift of all. Wouldn't it be nice if we could shop online for that warm, fuzzy feeling? At times like this it can be so hard to love...sometimes nearly impossible. What's there to love about being divorced? Feeling lonely? Worrying about bills, providing for a family, and losing everything you've ever had? Not much. But you have to start somewhere.

In writing this post I realize a lot of what I'm saying is cliche, blah blah blah.  You've heard it over and over and OVER again...but I'm convicted to share my beliefs with you.

I'm not in a position to tell you everything is going to be okay and that Christmas will be magical and perfect for you again just like it was once before, but maybe, just maybe it wasn't as great as you remembered it to be. Maybe, just maybe, one day Christmas will be better than you could have ever imagined. On that day, my friend, you will look back and realize just how blessed you are. And all of that suffering, all of those tears cried, awful first dates, challenges with your ex, and ultimately broken dreams, were just a part of your beautiful journey.

Merry Christmas my friends...

Love,
Holiday xoxo

Wednesday, December 17, 2014

Booze, Vibrator, and a Sharpie - Episode 3 of GGTD

As promised, are you ready for a re-cap of last night's Girlfriend's Guide to Divorce?  Cause I know I'm ready to give it to you - especially since last night's episode involved booze, a vibrator, and defacing a poster of your ex's younger girlfriend in your teenagers bedroom.  The yogurt truck was just a big {low}fat bonus…

Episode 3: Rule #47: Always Take Advantage of "Me" Time


We all remember it…  The first night we had alone time that was not by "choice".  Without kids, without our +1, without our co-custody dog, without {fill in the blank} due to impending divorce.  And we're about to relive our past and high five ourselves because at least our first night alone was not as bad as Abby's.  If it was... well then you rock and we want to hear about it in the comments section below.  

Our episode starts off with Abby shutting her fingers in a window her un-employed soon to be ex Jake still hasn't fixed yet.  Love us some good metaphors and predictors!  Abby also says shit in front of her kids.  I'm hooked.  {Wait Bravo - are you sure this is scripted and not reality?!?}  They then go on to verbally assure each other they know the rules for the kiddos first night at Daddys.  All I keep thinking is why the hell is Abby not recording this convo on her iPhone…  Then Abby gives Jake the finger.  I'm really hooked.

Cue coffee with the girlfriends Lyla and Phoebe.  Abby is gloating about how happy she is without Jake in the house anymore and to have a night off!!!  We all do this.  We need to do this - to convince ourselves that we are 'lucky duckies' NOT 'sucky soon to be drunkies'.  I personally remember everyone I saw my first night without my son by "choice". I kept exclaiming "Woo-hooooo!  I finally get a night off!!!!!"  Even to strangers.  And everyone kept looking at me {especially the Publix bagger walking my groceries of cheese, 2 jumbo bags of red twizzlers, and 8 bottles of wine to my car} like why in the hell are you telling me this lady - I don't even know you - and because I work at Publix you're probably not even going to tip me!?!  We must CONVINCE others so that we may convince ourselves.  Abby's Girlfriends aren't buying it.  They know.  It's gonna suck the big one.

Next we are treated to Abby's gay brother Max helping her soon to be ex Jake shuttle in newly purchased goods for the kids into his new pad.  Ohhhh, she's gonna be pissed!  Then as they are walking, arms overflowing with recently purchased stuff in brown paper bags {really Bravo - Target didn't want to get on the product placement action because that would be way more realistic}, they get offered a hookup to get cocaine and Cialis by a new neighbor.  And the welcome wagon has officially visited.  Oh and some other new neighbor teaches acting all day {aka screaming at all hours but has a really good excuse} and is reallyyyy loud.  If this doesn't spell perfect for kids, I don't know what does?!?  All this new kid friendly pad is missing is cue the burgundy felt hatted pimp arm in arm with his ho in a blue sequined dress.

EWG Tip:  See here's the difference…  Women with kids would have stalked the shit out our new pad at all hours before we would EVER have committed.  
We would have visited in the AM:
- to check out the other kids that ride the bus to school or walked {no other kids no dice}
- to see how the light would shine into the windows to set the mood for the day
- to make sure their wasn't too much light in our kids rooms   
We would have visited around lunch:
- to see what the other residents were doing {had there been too many people there we would have deemed it filled with people without meaningful purpose and it would have been a no-go}
- to spy on the stay at home moms
We would have visited around dinner time:
- to make sure strong odors weren't seeping out of others doors into our new proposed pad
- to interrogate, I mean politely ask other neighbors if they liked living here
- to see if the light from sunsets was ideal for wrapping up a day
- to look for kids doing their homework through the windows of our would be neighbors {binoculars - check!}
We would of course have visited in the PM:
- to make sure it was quiet 
- to make sure that the street lights didn't shine too brightly in our little ones would be bedrooms 
- to again spy on neighbors {double zoom lenses on binoculars - check!}
But what does Paul do?  Sign a freaking lease.  Probably on the one showing looked clean enough, had 3 bedrooms, and in budget.  I'll take it!  And he's about to take it somewhere else if he doesn't stop hanging out with Abby's brother all of the time.  

We then witness Lyla {could Janeane Garofalo be better casted?  Love her!} choosing work over kids because Delia "hell on heels" other woman attorney at the firm is trying to push Lyla out of the picture with a big new client.  Of course we have to see a little woman not supporting woman in the business world action because we have the nice juxtaposition of woman supporting woman in the personal world.  
EWG Tip:  When your ex is fighting you for full custody you might want to place your kids as a priority - a.k.a. kids first not work first.  Five years later you won't say "Gosh, I wish I really wouldn't have missed that meeting!".  But you will certainly say "Gosh, I wish I really wouldn't have handed over a golden Willy Wonkaesque ticket to my ex to get additional custody of our kids that one day!"

Lyla does stick it to the Principal of their kids school later in the episode explaining why she sent the Nanny in her place to story time - which I strangely really enjoyed despite her choosing work over her kids.   Because if you go to a private school {or even public one!} all these volunteer opportunities just make working to pay the bill parents feel like big assholes when they can't make it to the 11:02am time slot - smack damn in the middle of a work day.  Sometimes {not every time}  a sub of someone your child loves kind of fits the bill in making your child feel both represented and supported at school, which really should be the entire point.  Go on with your bad self!

Next we see Abby trying to get her creative on.  Pitching one bad cliche after another.  Not judging here - kind of Holiday and I when we should be writing but instead we're drinking margaritas coming up with funny names to sequels to our first book out a year from now...  Pitching for her life, her career, and future financial security.  Abby just lost her married life, not sure if she's ready to lose the other two but her tween agent is all like "OMG - you're career is so Kardashian!"  {OVER}.

Commercial time - love the AT&T one with the Lil' John and DJ Snake song Turn Down For What - just Shazamed it and input my iTunes password.  And I'll be playing it in 1,2,3…  and sadly at decibel 3,2 okay maybe 1…  Did I mention my 6 year old is asleep in the bedroom next door?  Sorry DJ Snake and Lil' John - couldn't get as crunk as I wanted too and had to Turn it Down For someone.

Back to the action and we see Abby trying to get her creative on again… no such luck... again.  But she gets a gift basket!!!  From her Girlfriend Phoebe Godmother!!!  {And a cute text from that married Dad that has the hots for her - more on this later because she doesn't reply - smart}  I love she gets a freaking gift basket - because Abby and Phoebe were both probably Kappa Kappa Gamma's like Holiday and I and that's just what we women do!  Nothing cheers a woman up quicker than getting support via gifted girlie stuff.  Now not sure if a Kappa would gift a vibrator with a phone app - but definitely the wine part.  

Next Paul is showing his teenage daughter, I mean his girlfriend tv star Becca his new "I can get coke anytime I want biotch" bachelor kids every-other weekend pad.  Of course she wants to get it on.  Of course he tries to show he has to be responsible and all and focus on getting his pad ready.  {No work and all play makes an anxiety filled dull boy duller}.  Of course he ultimately ends up getting it on with Becca.  Did you see the cute shorts she was wearing?  If I was wearing those shorts and my unemployed boyfriend didn't want to christen his new drug friendly bachelor with kids pad with me, I would be pissed.

Cut back to Abby… trying to get her creative on… again…  See the theme here?  But this time she has wine!  And lots o' wine!

Flash to Paul's pad.  He suggests over freshly prepared Chinese takeout he and the kids check out the apartment complex pool and hot tub {no you didn't read wrong there}. Or go bowling.  Or play Monopoly.  Bonus - the video games wifi connection doesn't work!  Younger son now crying curled up in fetal position rolling side to side on sofa.  The neighbors are screaming during "acting class".  Daughter is missing shopping at TopShop with her bff's - NOOOOO!!!  Not gonna lie - this is all making me smile.  Don't get me wrong, I feel bad for the kids, it shouldn't be this rough of an adjustment.  We need to remember non-working video games and missing shopping is a big adjustment for kids - kind of like the adjustment of not having money and worrying about becoming homeless is for parents going through divorce.  So we all just can keep those crystal balls un-rubbed, because we know what Paul is gonna do right?  Try to save the day by making phone calls and breaking promises.  

Flashes in between all of this to Abby now drunk {God at least I hope so…} dancing in her skivvies with no blinds closed and a back wall filled with really clean all glass windows to rap music.  Girlfriends got a body and moves - clearly no C Section for her!  Not gonna lie - I call my formal living room that I had to sell all of the furniture for that belonged in there to afford the moving company after my divorce my "dance" room.  Big empty room perfect for dancing, that just happens to be in the front of my house visible to everyone.  And I have a disco ball.  And rap music has played while I was dancing.  And I'm gonna get crunk there to the new song I downloaded on iTunes during the commercial someday soon {Friday night to be exact}.  And I have never ever ever been in my fancy underwear/bra combo.  Because that would just be mean to my neighbors… and scare kids.

Now Abby gets out the ol' black fine point Sharpie and starts writing the improvements this plastic surgeon Dr. Marber everyone is encouraging her to go see on her body.  Because nothing says I'm moving on to a better life like bigger or better boobs do.  {Maybe that's where I went wrong…}  As in writing ALL over her body.  Because when we feel unworthy mentally, let's just draw all over our body where we perceive ourselves unworthy physically!  Then she calls in the help of The Girlfriends - the inevitable SOS call {how do you think Holiday and I met?!?  I'm gonna let her write in the comment section below on that one!!!}
EWG Tip:  Better boobs, thinner thighs, leaner love handles will not make you happier in the first few months of your divorce.  Let the arrows all stop flying before you ever even contemplate going under a real knife.  Focus on eating a balanced diet and doing things that are GOOD for your head and body {aka yoga and meditation - not downing a bottle of vodka just because you heard it is low-carb}.  If you want "improvements" that you feel best represent the new and stronger you once you are "official" than go for it!  You'll thank us for this some day - we promise.

Then Abby tries to fix the window - drunk, in her panties, with her body flaws all mapped out like in a  side of beef butcher cut perfection.  And gets stuck, literally.  Yet again, our metaphor has not let us down, our Girlfriend is stuck.  Neighbors call help.  Girlfriends arrive.  Abby is unstuck, but only physically, not metaphorically.  {Yes Bravo, I am available to be a guest script writer.}

Girlfriends show up with vodka sans catsuits and explosives but with a big fatty!!!  Paul's girlfriend just shows up - which is the teenage equivalent of showing up with vodka, cat suits, explosives, duct tape, and glitter!!!!  {Love this ecard on our FB page - must check out}  And she simply suggests going bowling, which is not so lame anymore to the kids, and voila!  The night is saved for Paul!!!  Oh yeah - and the soon-to-be-ex-brother-in-law {is this really a word?!?} and his partner now answer Paul's previous SOS call and decide to join in.  Because helloooo - Becca is a star!!!  And hellooooo - Abby would be BEYOND pissed if she wasn't about to get even more drunk / high / and wild with the markers again!

So the kids and Paul bowl.  And the partners, and kids, and star girlfriend sing karaoke.  To the theme song from The Breakfast Club.  How aprapo…  {btw - that film was based on my high school - no joke John Hughes went to my high school!}  And the Girlfriends get high and figure out the app controlled vibrator, and go in her daughter's bedroom to deface the poster of Paul's star girlfriend.  Sounds about right to me.

Woosh - back to reality.  Abby is a Mom - and mom's can't lose their shit - especially not on their kids or on their kids poor choice of bedroom wall art while high on tv {oh wait - this one is scripted…}.  But if they do, nothing says sober me up like having Phoebe's driver drive you all around L.A looking for a replacement poster of your soon to be ex's younger woman that you just defaced with your Girlfriends.  Hello awesome to the "extras" they find while on the "poster crusade" like the cool slinky eye glasses, white wig, and donut powder {will do instead of glitter}.  Especially love that the Girlfriends find the non-English faux replacement poster at a store called "Stars of Hollywood".  Because who is the real star?  The stoned Mom and Girlfriends trying to make sure their kids go unscathed and unharmed during a divorce?  Or the star who is starring not only in the Mom's kids lives right now at Lucky Strikes bowling ally but also on that damn poster.  {Keep em coming Bravo!!!}

Lyla then remembers/admits/mentions out loud with major regret that she has an ace up her sleeve - Dalia {hell on heels attorney that tried to screw her earlier that day - catch up people} can get the poster they are on the hunt for if she asks her.  Hooray!!!  Hell to pay at work for Lyla calling in a favor of the devil - but hooray!!!  Then they track the yogurt truck - which was way easier to do than the poster thankfully because I was starting to feel stoned too and I don't do drugs.  Double scoop hooray!!!

While at the yogurt truck, Abby says one of the most hit home quotes to this Ex-Wife… "I would have killed for a night alone in my house when I was married, now that I get it I fell apart."  Lyla replies "Of course!  Because it's a different kind of alone.  Now you're a-looone.  Alone."  We get it, we get it big time.  Alone by choice is one thing.  Alone not by choice totally a different thing, especially when that not by  choice is divorce.  Fresh divorce full of the fruit of anger and spite and bad choices ripe for the picking.
EWG Tip:  Neither one of us Ex-Wives thought we would ever have to spend a day away from our children not by choice.  But we did.  Yes the first, second, and third time sucked our kiddos packed up their Pottery Barn backpacks for Daddys.  Pretty much sucked the first three months of back and forth every other weekend if we're being honest.  But cheer up - we promise after awhile you will actually look forward to your "alone" time, as well as be way more productive with your time - as in you won't wake up with a Taco Bell wrapper stuck to your face and not remember how it got there.

Here comes my next favorite scene and quote starring Dalia who remarks "Oh Lyla - you've got a thousand bucks worth of cocaine on your chest or you're getting it on with Mr. Donut." She was getting it on with Mr. Donut.  Busted.  Busted by your nemesis but take it like a champ for the sake of your Girlfriend and because damn were those donuts good.  Without missing a beat or an opportunity to show why she is the better attorney, besides the fact she hasn't been making out with donuts while looking for a teen poster, Dalia hands over the holy grail of posters from her chauffeured Mercedes.  Search over, at least for the poster.

Poster hung, Girlfriends hugged, told she is a great Mom and it's all going to be okay.  Uses markers wisely this time.  Good girl.
EWG Tip:  It will all be okay.  It will all be okay soon.  It will always all be okay.  {Ruby slippers clicked three times for good measure.}  Just remember this one thing and make it your mantra.

Next morning - hear the bestest sound in the entire Universe - the sound of your babies returned home safely after their first night away with your soon to be ex.  And Abby wisely remarks to her soon to be ex as he walks through the door "It shouldn't be a story" when Jake of course starts out by saying "It's a long story".  And boom… Jake is served.  Broke the most important rule no introducing kids until someone is a significant other.  The very first time.  The boom suddenly becomes a boomerang and Paul retorts that maybe Becca is a significant other.  Uggghhh.  Served back.  Then the younger son finds Mommy's sci-fi vibrator bringing it to her asking her in front of Daddy what it is after getting KO'd Australian style just moments ago.  Smugly he remarks "I thought we weren't going to introduce the kids to significant others?"

As if things couldn't get worse her teenage daughter takes down the poster {yep supposedly now they are "whatever" - wasted last nights Robin Hood feet while wasted}.  She'd rather print out the Instagram pics she took with Dad's star girlfriend Becca - which is quickly expanding her social circle.  When Abby questions her daughter on if this is really the way to earn friends it is as if the kangaroo with the boomerang from downstairs comes hopping in with an evil baby Joey who BOOM - throws one again.  The reply?  "You're just jealous because she's pretty and young".  She also says bratty teenagery sassy stuff like Dad's awesome and you're not and you're alone.  Let's just say this might be the one and only time I was glad my son was newly 3 when I had my first night "alone" - after watching this scene.

To wrap up this 24 hours from hell{o} nicely we see Abby and her brother volunteering at the school during drop off.  Not so sure I would have wanted to be side by side up close and personal with someone I just kind of betrayed while holding a huge wooden sign she could hit me with, but okay, it was pretty much in public and a place you shouldn't be making a scene.  Bottom line;  Jake is moving on and Abby realizes she needs to also.  Brother forgiven.  She just wants to feel like she has first dibbs. Totally get it.  I would have never let him off this hook this easily, especially not while holding a huge wooden sign perfect for hitting.

This episode o'fun tapers off with Lyla's meeting with the Principal I mentioned above {it rocked} and heavy hearts for her situation.  So many of us have been there, done that, own the closet full of t-shirts when it comes to sacrifices we have to make as working mothers.  The ending?  Well of course it is Abby fixing the broken window with a power tool now officially shutting it {hello metaphor friend}, closing her computer screen to her current creativity crisis, and returning the text she got yesterday from the married Dad who has the hots for her.  Low and behold, the window that was just fixed to shut springs open again.  God I love me some metaphors.  But what do I love more???  This episode and this show!!!
EWG Tip:  Never force shut anything.  Because we promise it will come crashing open again.  This is just like your divorce.  Breathe, hire a handy man, let it close on it's own time.
EWG Tip#2:  Never get involved with a married man.  Because karma is always a bigger bitch than you could dream of.  And shutting one thing to open another that should be shut anyways goes against gravity.  And gravity is our friend - especially if you haven't had your boobs done yet.

Stay tuned for next week when the real Ex-Wives Guide to Divorce dish on the GGTD on Bravo!

Love, Valerie (of the EWG)









  











  




Thursday, December 11, 2014

Girlfriends Guide to Divorce...here we go!

In case you've been living under a rock...Bravo has recently launched their first scripted television series...
the Girlfriends Guide to Divorce.

When Valerie and I learned of the show (several months ago) we immediately contacted our legal team. The title is almost exactly the same as our book, The Ex Wives Guide to Divorce (scheduled for publication January 2016).

As Bravo started to promote the show our phones started ringing off the hook.

The #1 text message/voicemail we were bombarded with?

BRAVO STOLE YOUR IDEA! BRAVO STOLE YOUR SHOW! (It so just happens that we were/ are in the talks with various producers regarding a reality show, however due to confidentiality agreements we can not share anything at this time). Still, our closest friends and family knew we had been working with a handful of producers and television networks, so this announcement set off major alarms.

To avoid getting our panties in a wad, our entertainment attorneys investigated and we quickly realized this: Bravo did not rip us off (and newsflash...we didn't rip them off either).

It just so happens this whole divorce thing is kind of running rampant in our country...and seeing how there are television shows with EVERY topic under the sun (hello Kourtney and Khloe...we're soooo glad you spent the summer in the Hamptons...and thank you very much to the Real Housewives series for distracting us from our own personal daily drama...). It was only a matter of time before a network jumped on the divorce bandwagon.

Inspired by Vicki Iovine's best selling book The Girlfriend's Guide to Pregnancy, the show is a scripted series about divorce. After watching the first few episodes Valerie and I have decided to join in on the fun...our goal is to blog real time during and after each show (episodes air Tuesdays at 10/9C on Bravo).

So stay tuned for our comments, input, and two cents. After all, our lives are NOT scripted and neither were our divorces...but a little entertainment never hurt anyone :)

xo Holiday
www.theexwivesguide.blogspot.com

Wednesday, November 26, 2014

the death of a minivan



A little piece of me died the day I bought a minivan. I’m not even joking y’all. I left the dealership and went straight to my shrink. I am NOT kidding.

I’ll never forget it…the tires squealed as I pulled into the parking garage. I bolted toward the door and collapsed on her couch. The words couldn’t come out fast enough. I was out of breath.

“I JUST BOUGHT A MINIVAN."

SILENCE.

Bless her heart. She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.  

Neither did I.

An hour later we came to a conclusion…this minivan was a stage in my life. This, too, shall pass.

“But Kathryn…I’m a SINGLE MOM driving a MINIVAN.”

"Holiday…it will be OKAY.”

Let’s be clear. I was NOT held at gunpoint by the car dealer (although that would have made this story waaaayyy more interesting).

Truth be told…I had been looking for a swagger wagon for a while when I finally found one that fit the bill (and when I say bill I mean loaded with leather seats, DVD players, sunroof, and enough room to fit a small African village…)

I really, really TRIED to love this car. But when your dad responds to your new car picture text with “Wow, Hol…did hell freeze over today?” you know you’ve got a problem (especially when your dad is the closest thing to Jesus you know, and he never, ever, ever says bad words…just sayin’).

Needless to say I’ve taken loads of SHIT from people (sorry dad…and Jesus) over this minivan ordeal. In fact, my friends love to laugh at me and make fun of my vanity license plate and car magnets. I know what you’re thinking…no, we do NOT have stick figure stickers…that’s a whole ‘NOTHER ballgame. But in my world you either go big or go home, so heck yeahhh, my license plate is a dead give-a-way that this minivan is mine. Allllll mine, baby.

Until tomorrow.

That’s right. Tomorrow I will be handing over the keys to Vannah (yep, I even named her Vannah…White, of course) in exchange for an SUV, courtesy of my Ford employee husband.

My friends and I have had a “minivan countdown” going for a while now…and now that it’s here I can’t help but think of the symbolism behind this stupid crappy minivan (sorry, Vannah…nothing personal)...

This minivan has been a stage in my life. In fact, I’m confident I could give any AP English teacher a field day with the symbolism behind this car…it has been a symbol of my life. I was the “single, minivan-driving mom” for quite a while…and yes, it sucked at times, but it was also part of my journey.

The day I met my {now} husband I was mortified to have to tell him I was the girl driving the {dirty} minivan...oh, yeah...I almost forgot to mention the fact that there is ZERO motivation to keep a minivan sparkling clean. In fact you could probably find "clean" and "minivan" in the antonym section of your thesaurus.

Clean, dirty, and just downright nasty at times, Vannah has witnessed smiles, tears, and everything in between. Sand from beach trips, snow (and ditches) thanks to ice storms, dirt from bicycles, giggles from kids, and kisses from people I love. If the walls of this minivan could talk I’m sure they’d have a LOT to say (it’s probably best they can’t!)

My minivan has been such a source of conversation I even suggested “The Ex-Wives Guide to Rockin’ the Minivan” as a sequel to our literary agent (Valerie vetoed that before I could get it on paper…)

Life has a funny way of teaching us lessons…even if it’s in the form of giant un-cool automobiles. My friends cringe, but I will smile, as I look back on my minivan days. They may be gone, but they will not be forgotten.

In the spirit of Thanksgiving, I urge you to be thankful for the stage of life you are in, right now. Even if it just so happens to involve a minivan.

xoxo Holiday
p.s. save your money and skip the shrink...this too, shall pass : )

Saturday, November 15, 2014

Hi From The High Dive

Hi from the high dive - it's me Valerie up here.

Half standing… knees slightly bent… feeling the wind weaving through my shaking giraffe like legs.

Glad I wore a one piece because I always lose something when taking the plunge.  Everyone else glad I wore a one piece because trust me it would not be pretty...

I'm all alone up here.  Staring at the sparkling chlorine filled water waiting patiently deep below.  Starting to call me to take the plunge.  Now calling loudly - losing it's patience.  Too loudly.  Almost screaming.  Me staring, head titled sideways and mouth half open, as I watch as the sun rays give light to the criss-crossing water peaks created by others that have gone before me.  Or are those still the currents of the last time I jumped in?  Doesn't matter…

I brace myself (and sometimes hold my nose but that is an all together different story and not nearly as sexy…but neither is my one piece so let's go with it).  And so it begins as I bend my trembling legs, cross my arms, and spring towards the call of the shimmering unknown - DATING DATING (not just "a" date) AFTER DIVORCE.  Full of hope.  Full of fear.  Full of "Why the hell am I doing this again?!?"

Think back to when you first met your Ex…  Ex husband - ex boyfriend - ex every friday night fling - ex coworker you had the hots for you literally enjoyed endless trainings in conference rooms with no windows and ham sandwich boxed lunches with mustard - ex fill in the blank.  I am willing to bet donuts to dollars there came a time where you realized it was time to jump in and swim.  Not just with your relationship, but within YOU.  Quite honestly anything involving donuts and or dollars excites me personally (I heart baked goods), but THINK….  Back to that one defining all in or all out moment that came to you so clearly as if it didn't matter how the other person would respond.

But what intrigues me time after time after time is when facing the plunge in anything in life, true high-dive moments - especially relationships - some of us have this unique ability to forget about our past jumps.  We forget mostly because we need to.  We don't entirely forget - but we stand up there and ask our soul, head, and heart "the" questions.  Questions like why am I doing this?  Exactly what is the chance of me being hurt, and is it an ER kinda hurt or Minute Clinic kinda hurt?  What do I have to prove?  Did I pay my insurance premium last month?  What is my goal and will this action help me reach said goal?  (Because sometimes our goal is finding a life partner and sometimes our goal is just free food.)  Will this be worth it - and what is my current definition of "worth".

Then we suddenly remember the time we missed the pool all together and splatted on the concrete (co-worker and bad ham sandwich).  Or the time we belly flopped so big our stomachs hurt for months and we literally stretched our stretch marks (can we say rebound?).  Or the time we went soooo deep, and too far down that we almost ran out of breath while desperately trying to propel towards the light for air in order to save ourselves (our beloved forever turned never).  And by "save" I mean just be able to breathe…  We remember mostly because we need to.

Goose bumps then appear and pop up one by one as do our memories of the jump where we sang and soulfully swam for years in waters that washed away everything worth worrying over.  Washed away the past.  Washed away the hurt.  Washed away the rejections and how fast can I get out of this not just from others but from ourselves.  Washed away any doubt that we deserve and are entitled to not only be high dive jumpers but deep water swimmers.  Let me repeat that…  We DESERVE to take the plunge and be rewarded.  Even if we crash again, at some point we will be rewarded, God willing.  (And please God will it now!)  We deserve mostly because we just do.

And I bet you jumped.  Jumped in because the reward far out weighed your laundry list of risk factors.  Your heart - it said I'd rather sing again than be silent.  Your head - that was an easy one because it is easily convinced - it's all about perception and immediate gratification.  Well your soul - you asked and you decided that not even a limb breaking on life-support kind of fall could ever destroy your un-sinkable soul.  Most importantly you jumped because I know you are like me - you would rather be fighting for your life than fighting with your inner self.  Endlessly asking yourself the proverbial "what if…".  Every time you jump or swim or both you become stronger, and wiser, and more aware of what a kick ass worth the deep end kind of woman you truly are.  Regret has no room in the house of our souls.

So here I am, swimming in the pool of dating / relationships again.  That's right I jumped in.  Not head first this time, but I did it.  After a 3 year long hiatus that included some sinking (bad one off dates here and there), some life saving (seriously - tumors in the head = no fun) and some concrete face plants (life!) that taught me how to be a better jumper.

Will I get hurt?  Possibly.  Will I be sad if this swim doesn't last as long as I would like it too by either my choice or his?  Possibly.  Will my past falls and almost-drownings define this jump?  No way.  Would I regret not taking the plunge?  Absolutely.

Never be afraid to take the plunge.  As in ever.  Never ever ever (ever).  No matter how bad you have been hurt, or how many times, we ALL deserve to swim in a sea of our desires.  And mine is to someday have a true partner and a family.  Just because that dream was shattered because of the actions of another and the choices that belonged to me, doesn't mean that I am not entitled to my dream.  It may be a slightly different or modified dream, but I will not give up on the vision God and The Universe instilled in my every fiber being.

Up on the high dive is home to many a truth or dare, not just heard from the mouths of school aged punks.  Know your truth and stare your "dare" down.  Luckily this jump into the dating pool is different for me, (and you and anyone who has been divorced or kissed concrete more than once…) because this time I am wearing floaties and yes my nose is plugged.

Friday, October 10, 2014

Dear Holiday...don't piss your pants.



“Write a letter to your future self.”

This college writing assignment threw me for a loop. As a senior I was facing some major decisions…Should I stay and get my Master’s Degree? Where should I live? Do I really want to be a teacher? Should I break up with my boyfriend?  You know, the important stuff.

I should have put this letter in my jewelry box…it’s the one place I keep things that I actually want to find again. Knowing me it’s probably living in a Rubbermaid bin in my mom’s attic, sandwiched between high school yearbooks and my sorority t-shirt collection. 

I can’t remember what I wrote, but it probably went something like this:

Dear Holiday,

Today I’m writing to you as a senior in college. You are about to start this incredible new journey called the REAL WORLD! In 10 years from now you will be an awesome teacher with a classroom full of kids who adore you and you will love your life. You’ll probably be happily married to {insert college boyfriend’s name here} because surely by now he will have his s@#$ together.  You might even be a mommy…wow, 10 years is a long time. Promise me you'll never wear "mom" jeans, no matter how comfortable they may be.

Always remember to dream big, believe in yourself, and follow your passions. Stay beautiful inside and out, and never forget how awesome college was.

Love always,
Holiday
(*I have confidence it was a little more deep than this, but I really can’t remember)


Writing a letter to my future self was kinda cool, but now that I’m older (and obbbbviously wiser), I’ve been thinking about the opposite.

What if I could write a letter to myself from 10 years ago?

What would I say? What advice would I give myself?

If someone had given me a crystal ball 10 years ago to show me my future I would have shattered the damn thing…no questions asked.

In honor of my college English professor, I’m accepting this personal writing assignment. Here we go.

Dear Holiday,

I know right now you think life is a little stressful, but just hold on to your hat kiddo. You have no idea what’s in store for you. There will be many, many wonderful memories made and milestones reached, but there will also be some heartbreak. I wish I could protect you from this, but sometimes life gives you lemons. I know you will make lemonade.

Top 10 tips:
 1. Put your faith in GOD every single day. Know that He loves you and has a plan for your life, even though you may not understand it (or even like it for that matter).
 
2.  Trust your gut and don’t settle for anything less than you know you deserve.
 
3.  Listen to Mom and Dad. They really do know what they’re talking about.
 
4.  Love yourself NOW and get over the stupid muffin top. You’re spending too much time critiquing yourself…you are beautiful!
 
5.  Cherish each moment and live each day like it’s your only chance to make a difference.
 
6.  Forgive yourself for the mistakes you’re going to make…newsflash, you’re gonna screw up.
 
7.  Look for the positive in all circumstances…be SUNSHINE…not a Debbie downer complaining cloud.
 
8.  Put others first.
 
9.  Be the example you’d like your children to admire (yep, you’re totally having babies!)  

10.  Don’t sweat the small stuff. Yes, it’s a cliché, but what would a letter like this be without a tried and true cliché?

 After writing this it’s totally obvious. You really are going to turn into our mother when you grow up! But guess what? In 10 years from now you will appreciate and understand how wise she is and just how freaking AWESOME she is. Growing up to become more like her will be enlightening, and you’ll find yourself looking to her for more advice and guidance than you could ever imagine.

Finally, I want to remind you that life is a wild ride with lots of ups and downs. Enjoy the ups and hang on during the downs…and whatever you do, don’t piss your pants during the loop-de-loops.

See ya in 10 years…

Love,
Holiday
p.s. I also wrote an unfiltered version, but I’m keeping that one to myself : )

Monday, September 22, 2014

don't wrestle with a pig

When I need to vent, I call my mom. When I need someone to walk me off a cliff,  I call my dad. Don't get me wrong, my mom is wonderful and amazing and has been an incredible source of wisdom for me...but when it comes to the big stuff I call dad first.

Some of the best advice my dad ever game me was to never wrestle with a pig. Why?
Because you both get dirty and the pig likes it.

Wow. That's a great way to think about things, especially when all you want to do is address the "pig" and tell them where they can go.

I don't know about you, but I prefer not to compromise my grace and dignity for the enjoyment of a pig.

During the divorce process you're bound to encounter a few pigs. They might be in disguise, or they might show their true colors right away. Think back to middle school...when the "popular girl" was your BFF one day and the next day she decided she didn't like you anymore. She ignored you in the cafeteria, walked right by you and pretended you were invisible. Part of you wanted to confront, her, reminding her, "HELLO- remember 24 hours ago, when we were making plans for Friday night???" The other part of you just wanted to fast-forward until the day when she finally decides to be nice to you again...then everything would go back to normal. Until she does it again.

Her actions and behavior make you question yourself- "what did I do to her?" when the reality is this: you did NOTHING to her...she's just acting like a PIG. It is her intention to get under your skin, ruin your day, and create drama for absolutely no reason. Rise above, my friend. Rise above.

When the pig sees you sweat the pig has won the game (this is especially true during divorce mediation and/or court appearances).

So my advice to you during your divorce (or just life in general) is to resist the mud pit and let the karma train do the dirty work.

xo Holiday

Wednesday, September 3, 2014

The secretary survived...this time.

I'm not the violent type. Except for when someone takes the last bite of ice cream and leaves the EMPTY container in the freezer...only for me to be PMS'ing and find it...completely EMPTY during a chocolate attack. But that's a whole 'nother story...

Living in two houses is pretty annoying. Thankfully I never had to do it (until I was an adult- thanks Mom and Dad for sticking it out until I went to college)...but my kids have been going back and forth for 3 years now. Their dad and I decided from the get-go we would do everything we could to make the transition back and forth as seamless as possible. We do our best. But sometimes we fail.

Last Monday morning I woke up to the ding of my iPhone. "The girls don't have shoes for school. E has P.E. today." Grrrreeeeeat. Way to go, DAD. This was not exactly how I pictured my morning would start. I mean seriously...I have spent years training this man to get everything ready for the kids the night before...how is this the first time in 3 days you've required our children to wear "proper" shoes? Have they been running barefoot all weekend??? REALLY?!?!

Rather than get all huffy and puffy with him (which really does nothing but piss him off and start a useless argument) I jumped out of bed and got dressed. My husband gave me a dazed and confused look. When I showed him the message he smiled. He knew exactly what was going through my head because he has been in the same exact boat. Chances are, if you're a divorced (or separated) parent, you've been there.

I grabbed their shoes and headed for the door. My husband stopped me. "Ummmm, babe, I hate to tell you this but they probably won't let you drop those shoes off..they kinda don't like it when parents drop things off after the bell rings."

The giant lump started in my throat.
Angry mommy crept in.

The reality of public school hit me. Our daughter was no longer in the nice family-friendly private Christian school, where everyone welcomed you with smiles and rainbows no matter WHAT you were dropping off, delivering, or any other reason you were making an appearance during school "instructional" hours.

Look, I get it people. I used to be a teacher. There's nothing more annoying than a mommy running in to rescue her kid with the teddy bear he forgot on the counter for show-and-tell that day.

This was DIFFERENT.
My kid didn't have shoes and it was NOT HER FAULT.

It didn't matter.
I was gonna have to get past the school secretary with these shoes.

My response to my husband? "Well guess what...I don't really CARE if they don't like it...I'm bringing her her shoes and they're just gonna have to get OVER IT."

I fought tears in the car. Guilt covered me, I was sad, angry, and frustrated. My kids should never have to pay the price for the divorce they didn't ask for. My daughter should never have to get in trouble at school for something that was out of her control. Kids who live in one house never have to worry about this stuff...I failed.

Tears welled up in my eyes as I opened the door to the front office.
There she was. The school secretary in all of her glory.

"Good morning...can I help you?"

"Yes. I'm so sorry...we are new here and this is soooo not my style to ever do anything like this and I know it sounds silly but...my daughter needs her shoes. She was with her daddy this weekend and he lives 40 minutes away..."

 I started rambling. My voice was shaking.

SERIOUSLY HOLIDAY? You're going to let the school secretary scare you?
Since when do you have a shaky voice?
Ummmm...NEVER.
Pull it together, dammit. This is NOT HER FAULT.

Her body language was obvious- she instantly sat up straight in her chair and gave me a smile...She was about to tell me no.

I had to intervene or someone was gonna get hurt. Crazy mommy was kicking in, and either she was gonna take these shoes for my kid or I was gonna lose my shit in the main office (which probably wouldn't have gone over very well).

Deep breath. 

"Ma'am...I know you're just doing your job, but this is a parental problem, not a problem my child should have to deal with. This is our fault- not hers. Unfortunately divorce sucks. And sometimes parents screw up. My daughter shouldn't have to pay for my mistakes."

Silence.

She reached out her hand, gesturing for the bag with the shoes.
I handed it over, still fighting my tears.

Through her smile, in her sweet southern draw, she reminded me, "For the future, just know that it is against school policy to accept anything after the bell rings..."

"Yes, ma'am...I understand."

I walked out of the school office feeling ashamed. I also felt the need to share this story.

I know I'm not the only parent who has gone through this. And I'm wondering if our public school system has ever addressed these individual circumstances. As a former elementary school teacher I can honestly say I would choose a brief classroom interruption over any kid having a tough day at school ANYTIME. No questions asked.

But we all know the truth...the gatekeeper is the school secretary.

Maybe I should send her a cookie basket.

xoxo Holiday  :)