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

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 : )

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.

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 : )

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

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  :)

a wedding, the crock pot, and starting over.

Yep folks, it's true.

I got hitched...again.

A lot has happened in the past 6 months...my boyfriend proposed, we got married, and the girls and I packed up our house and moved. All while the school year wrapped up and summer was in full swing. Oh, and did I mention the "blending" of 4 kids?

All 4 of them started school this week and the afternoon sports schedules are already in full swing.

Yes, indeed. It has been a whirlwind!

In the midst of this madness, I've had some random epiphanies. Here's a little sneak peek into what's been going on in my brain...

• Changing your name is quite possibly the most annoying process. Ever.
• After years of resistance I have finally caved in to the Crock Pot. It really is the magic dinner solution.
• Band-Aids must be kept in the car, along with umbrellas, a hair brush, and detangling spray.
• Going to bed early (a.k.a. before midnight) makes for a much happier Holiday.
• My husband is amazing.  He knows exactly what I need and when I need it. Even if that means taking the kids out solo and giving me some peace and quiet : )
• Volunteering to be the Cheerleading Squad Team Mom is going to be lots of fun. LOTS of fun. And definitely worth my time...because Elizabeth will totally remember all of this and repay me with a fancy nursing home one day.
• www.signupgenius.com is just plain GENIUS (team moms everywhere will agree).
• Kids are more flexible than we think. The girls are adjusting beautifully to their new bedrooms, schools, and big brother and sister.
• Getting married again was scary...and emotional...and overwhelming (I would be lying if I didn't say this). 
• Writing my vows was the most intense, challenging, and important writing assignment of my life. Our vows to each other meant more to me than any other words I've ever said.
• I love my basement. It's dark and cold and quiet. I can hide down here and no one will find me!
• My free weights are collecting dust and my arms are kind of jigglier than they used to be.
• Doing business with friends makes business much more fun...I have to give Valerie a shout out for keeping up with the Ex Wives' social media while I've been on "vacation". Her last blog post made me smile and cry...all at the same time. It was the perfect wedding gift and meant the world to me.
• When you listen to your gut (like reeeaaalllly listen), your intuition will not steer you wrong.
• Falling in love again is scary...but so worth it.
• Just because I'm married again doesn't mean I've forgotten what it's like to get divorced.

This is a new start for me and our family, and although there are some growing pains, I know it is all worthwhile.

As for the Ex Wives...we are in the process of finalizing a publishing deal and couldn't be more excited about the opportunities that lay ahead...this is going to be our best year ever!

xoxo
the Mrs.