There probably aren't too many times where you will read the following sentence... but here goes:
I love my ex-wive.
And, I do.
Oh, we will never get back together and I don't have any aspirations of that happening. Just too much water under the bridge.
However, I do love her and do want her to be happy, successful, and content in her own life. I want her to have those in every aspect of her life: career, parenting, and her relationships with other men.
And, I don't want that just so my kids can grow up in a healthy, happy environment when they are at her house.
I want it because she deserves it. She deserves every bit of it.
Honestly, I didn't always feel this way about her. There were so many times over the last five years that I wanted the opposite for her.
If she was in a relationship, I hoped it failed. If she was happy about something at work, I hoped she was laid off. Quite simply, if good or bad could have happened in her life, I would have preferred that that the bad thing would be what happened.
The biggest reason why I wanted all this bad to happen to her was that I wanted her to regret asking me a for a divorce. Any opportunity for her to sit back and think, "Maybe leaving Brett wasn't the smartest thing I ever did. He wasn't all bad."
I may go to Hell for feeling that way, but if I do, I am sure there will be a whole lot of ex-wives and ex-husbands who are down below for feeling the same way.
To be honest, I don't know how I held on to all that resentment for so long. Every time we
Monday, February 22, 2010
There probably aren't too many times where you will read the following sentence... but here goes:
I love my ex-wive.
And, I do.
Oh, we will never get back together and don't have any aspirations of that happening. Just too much water under the bridge.
However, I do love her and do want her to be happy, successful, and content in her own life. I want her to have those in every aspect of her life: career, parenting, and her relationships with other men.
And, I don't want that just so my kids can grow up in a healthy, happy environment when they are at her house.
I want it because she deserves it. She deserves every bit of it.
Honestly, I didn't always feel this way about her. There were so many times over the last five years that I wanted the quite opposite for her.
If she was in a relationship, I hoped it failed. If she was happy about something at work, I hoped she was laid off. Quite simply, if good or bad could have happened in her life, I would have preferred that that the big thing would be what happened.
I feel no remorse in feeling that way and I am sure I am not alone when thinking of their ex. However,
I love my ex-wive.
And, I do.
Oh, we will never get back together and don't have any aspirations of that happening. Just too much water under the bridge.
However, I do love her and do want her to be happy, successful, and content in her own life. I want her to have those in every aspect of her life: career, parenting, and her relationships with other men.
And, I don't want that just so my kids can grow up in a healthy, happy environment when they are at her house.
I want it because she deserves it. She deserves every bit of it.
Honestly, I didn't always feel this way about her. There were so many times over the last five years that I wanted the quite opposite for her.
If she was in a relationship, I hoped it failed. If she was happy about something at work, I hoped she was laid off. Quite simply, if good or bad could have happened in her life, I would have preferred that that the big thing would be what happened.
I feel no remorse in feeling that way and I am sure I am not alone when thinking of their ex. However,
Saturday, February 13, 2010
Valentines' Day
(My post from 2009... I am poet and didn't know it. Glad to say that I am one of the ones with love in 2010.)
Those with love
Smile in the joy of having what so many of us desire
Embrace this perfect gift and remember what brought it to you
Every detail and loving gesture that lit the heart's fire
Should be continued through and through by you two
Those without love
The hope of love can be the greatest love of all
Beating inside you with what you seek out
Never compromise youself, never fall
For one day you will find love, there is no doubt
Those with love
Smile in the joy of having what so many of us desire
Embrace this perfect gift and remember what brought it to you
Every detail and loving gesture that lit the heart's fire
Should be continued through and through by you two
Those without love
The hope of love can be the greatest love of all
Beating inside you with what you seek out
Never compromise youself, never fall
For one day you will find love, there is no doubt
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
Girls will be boys?
There are times as a single father that I think God is looking down at me and laughing his butt off. In so many ways, he really did play a cruel joke on me.
Four girls. Four of them. Not one little boy in the whole litter.
When I found out that I was going to be a father for the first time in 1997, I continually daydreamed of playing catch with "little Brett". Day after day, me and the little guy outside laughing it up while throwing around the pigskin.
Then, after nine months of playing out this fantasy, came Kern. A beautiful, healthy, blue-eyed girl. Disappointment was non-existent as I was thrilled to be a father. Besides, I had plenty of time to have a boy.
Then, came Savannah. Followed by Shelby, And, finally, Alani. Four girls for the football coach. There would be no more trying for the elusive boy. I was done after four.
I'd like to think that I have done a pretty good job of raising girls on my own. I do as much as any man can be expected to do to allow girls to be girls. The last thing I have wanted to do was to try and raise my girls as boys by only introducing them to what would typically be classified as "boy" stuff.
I have let them apply make-up to may face, have played Barbies with them, and have watched endless amounts of fashion shows. I have even participated in a conversation with them over who would be a better a boyfriend, Troy from the High School Musical trilogy or Jackson from the Hannah Montana television show.
I picked Troy because he was the better athlete, while they picked him because he was "cuter". Whatever.
So... Sunday morning I stood in the hallway watching my girls pretty themselves up on their own while getting ready for Church. They were facing a full-length mirror on the closet door, admiring their outfits and hairdo. It was one of the cutest things I have seen as a father.
With a great sense of pride, I continued to watch while thinking that I was actually playing a role in raising girls who would one day grow into beautiful women. I finally turned around and began to walk back to my room when Alani said something that made me stop.
"Hey Vannah," she said.
"Yea?"
"Fart on my face, then I will fart on yours. OK?"
"OK."
Damn. Looks there is more work to be done.
Four girls. Four of them. Not one little boy in the whole litter.
When I found out that I was going to be a father for the first time in 1997, I continually daydreamed of playing catch with "little Brett". Day after day, me and the little guy outside laughing it up while throwing around the pigskin.
Then, after nine months of playing out this fantasy, came Kern. A beautiful, healthy, blue-eyed girl. Disappointment was non-existent as I was thrilled to be a father. Besides, I had plenty of time to have a boy.
Then, came Savannah. Followed by Shelby, And, finally, Alani. Four girls for the football coach. There would be no more trying for the elusive boy. I was done after four.
I'd like to think that I have done a pretty good job of raising girls on my own. I do as much as any man can be expected to do to allow girls to be girls. The last thing I have wanted to do was to try and raise my girls as boys by only introducing them to what would typically be classified as "boy" stuff.
I have let them apply make-up to may face, have played Barbies with them, and have watched endless amounts of fashion shows. I have even participated in a conversation with them over who would be a better a boyfriend, Troy from the High School Musical trilogy or Jackson from the Hannah Montana television show.
I picked Troy because he was the better athlete, while they picked him because he was "cuter". Whatever.
So... Sunday morning I stood in the hallway watching my girls pretty themselves up on their own while getting ready for Church. They were facing a full-length mirror on the closet door, admiring their outfits and hairdo. It was one of the cutest things I have seen as a father.
With a great sense of pride, I continued to watch while thinking that I was actually playing a role in raising girls who would one day grow into beautiful women. I finally turned around and began to walk back to my room when Alani said something that made me stop.
"Hey Vannah," she said.
"Yea?"
"Fart on my face, then I will fart on yours. OK?"
"OK."
Damn. Looks there is more work to be done.
There are times as a single father that I think God is looking down at me and laughing his butt off. In so many ways, he really did play a cruel joke on me.
Four girls. Four of them. Not one little boy in the whole litter.
When I found out that I was going to be a father for the first time in 1997, I continually daydreamed of playing catch with "little Brett. Day after day, me and the little guy outside laughing it up while throwing around the pigskin.
Then, after nine months of playing out this fantasy, came Kern. A beautiful, healthy, blue-eyed girl. Disappointment was non-existent as I was thrilled to be a father. Besides, I had plenty of time to have a boy.
Then, came Savannah. Followed by Shelby, And, finally, Alani. Four girls for the football coach. And, there would be no more trying for the elusive boy. I was done after four.
I'd like to think that I have done a pretty good job of raising girls on my own. I do as much as any man can be expected to do to allow girls to be girls. The last thing I have wanted to do was to try and raise my girls as boys by only introducing them to what would typically be classified as "boy" stuff.
I have let them apply make-up to may face, have played Barbies with them, and have watched endless amounts of fashion shows. I have even participated in a conversation with them over who would be a better a boyfriend, Troy from the High School Musical trilogy or Jackson from the Hannah Montana television show.
I picked Troy because he was the better athlete, while they picked him because he was "cuter". Whatever.
So... Sunday morning I stood in the hallway watching my girls pretty themselves up on their own while getting ready for Church. They were facing a full-length mirror on the closet door, admiring their outfits and hairdo. It was one of the cutest things I have seen as a father.
With a great sense of pride, I continued to watch while thinking that I was actually playing a role in raising girls who would one day grow into beautiful women. I finally turned around and began to walk back to my room when Alani said something that made me stop.
"Hey Vannah," she said.
"Yea?"
"Fart on my face, then I will fart on yours. OK?"
"OK."
Damn. Looks there is more work to be done.
Four girls. Four of them. Not one little boy in the whole litter.
When I found out that I was going to be a father for the first time in 1997, I continually daydreamed of playing catch with "little Brett. Day after day, me and the little guy outside laughing it up while throwing around the pigskin.
Then, after nine months of playing out this fantasy, came Kern. A beautiful, healthy, blue-eyed girl. Disappointment was non-existent as I was thrilled to be a father. Besides, I had plenty of time to have a boy.
Then, came Savannah. Followed by Shelby, And, finally, Alani. Four girls for the football coach. And, there would be no more trying for the elusive boy. I was done after four.
I'd like to think that I have done a pretty good job of raising girls on my own. I do as much as any man can be expected to do to allow girls to be girls. The last thing I have wanted to do was to try and raise my girls as boys by only introducing them to what would typically be classified as "boy" stuff.
I have let them apply make-up to may face, have played Barbies with them, and have watched endless amounts of fashion shows. I have even participated in a conversation with them over who would be a better a boyfriend, Troy from the High School Musical trilogy or Jackson from the Hannah Montana television show.
I picked Troy because he was the better athlete, while they picked him because he was "cuter". Whatever.
So... Sunday morning I stood in the hallway watching my girls pretty themselves up on their own while getting ready for Church. They were facing a full-length mirror on the closet door, admiring their outfits and hairdo. It was one of the cutest things I have seen as a father.
With a great sense of pride, I continued to watch while thinking that I was actually playing a role in raising girls who would one day grow into beautiful women. I finally turned around and began to walk back to my room when Alani said something that made me stop.
"Hey Vannah," she said.
"Yea?"
"Fart on my face, then I will fart on yours. OK?"
"OK."
Damn. Looks there is more work to be done.
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