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My friend Cassy took pics of the kids last weekend. Could they get any cuter?

Nope. They couldn’t. Happy Wednesday, everyone.

I was very surprised to hear from you today. It’s been what…almost three years?

I gotta say I’m sorry you’re sorry to hear that I not only got a divorce but am now Living In Sin* with a guy (whose name is BRANDON, for future prayer record). I personally think both were good decisions for me, for myriad reasons, but I understand that you wouldn’t know all those reasons and would immediately be gravely concerned about me, because I’ve fallen so far from what Our Lord wants for me.

[*I’ve always been fascinated with this title. Aren’t we technically all living in sin by definition? Or is this one of those asterisked-code-red ones that gets more judgment than the usual sins, like homosexuality and pre-marital sex? They should put out a hierarchy handbook of this stuff, methinks.]

I’m also sincerely sorry that you are that worried about my soul. I actually think God is probably a helluva lot more understanding and wise than many people give him credit for, and would recognize that Jon and I were young, dumb kids when we got married at 22, and actually spent way more time thinking about our majors in college than we did knowing ourselves. Not to mention understanding such a tremendously weighty life decision. It’s too bad that you think I ruined the kids’ and Jon’s lives, and that you’ve lost respect for me. I’ve lost a lot of respect for people too, but I guess I don’t get a voice because I’m the one with the corrupted soul and evil, life ruining powers. Muahahahawhatever.

You’ll be relieved to know that I did, in fact, Think Of The Kids (and therapy – I even used it to facilitate the decision-making! I know, right? And she was a Christian, too!). I continue to Think Of The Kids in every decision I make. I’m moving back to Jack’s school district next month to ensure that after Jon sells the house, Jack is guaranteed to stay in the environment that has comforted and propelled him as far as he’s come. Rest assure that Thinking Of The Kids is something that is my top priority. This must be a common theme, though, my being a horrible mom, because the kids’ grandparents discussed in the beginning of the divorce the idea of taking me to court as an unfit mother. Damn Wellbutrin. It’s risky business during stressful times in your life.

I don’t know that everyone has the same goal in mind, though, that Thinking Of The Kids concept. Because despite having planned – and discussed with Jack – having one birthday party for next weekend, it’s since been decided that some people can’t be there if I’m there. (One guess who might have voiced that opinion.) Which is all well and fine for me personally, except for that minor detail of when Jack looks at me Saturday night and excitedly asks if I’m still coming to the party the rest of his world will be at the next day, his actual birthday. And I’ll say no to him. Though I don’t yet know what I’ll tell him the reason is. Because I’m too busy to make time? Because I don’t love him? The truth – that grandma and grandpa hate Mommy? I have no idea.

No really, I’m serious. I have 4 days before he asks me, and I truly don’t know what I’m going to say to him. But I have to take the bullet one way or the other, and making a kid think his mom doesn’t want to come to his birthday is not Thinking Of The Kids, as far as I’m concerned.

So what’s my point, old church acquaintance? It’s that your email was fucking ridiculous, all-around. It was hypocritical and ignorant and out of line ad infinitum. But unfortunately, it wasn’t new to me. You are in a growing line of people who not only feel entitled to my business, but in fact feel even more entitled to tell me what a rotten person I am, despite it being glaringly obvious that you don’t have all the info.

Thus, perhaps you could revive the game (and/or phone-tree) my old neighbors had, and add to the speculation of when I come and go, and what I am wearing. WEARING. BECAUSE APPARENTLY DIVORCE = PROSTITUTION. NO WONDER EVERYONE IS SO ANGRY AT ME. Or you can join my insurance guy who told me that he’d hold off on taking my name off Jon’s life insurance, because we all agreed that hopefully there can be a reconciliation (to which I blurted out we, who?). Or the countless people who fairly or not, decided they could no longer have a relationship with me, because of my choices. Of whom I respect that right, so long as you don’t leave anonymous passive/aggressive comments on my blog later on.

And then you can bite me.

Because what you won’t do is think that somehow you’re going to guilt me into following your template for morality. You’re not going to be the person who gets to punish me, and you’re not going to convince me that I shouldn’t be trying to admit and repair my mistakes, even if in doing so I have to put myself out there to be flayed as the fucking imperfect human that I am. I made a choice that despite being anathema to you, is one that I feel is actually best for myself and the kids, (and more than perhaps anyone, Jon) in the long run. I may be wrong, but I don’t believe I am, and in the end, it shouldn’t matter to you. Because regardless of the fact that virtually every single person who has said something stupidly cruel during this fishbowl-I-call-my-divorce was a professed ‘Christian’, what I won’t do is believe that God, whatever it/he/she may be, approves of your behavior – or more important the demographic you think you’re representing. Because what you’re saying to and about me is not kind-hearted or evangelical, it’s sanctimonious judgmental asshattery, and I’m so friggen OVER IT.

(Except I’m not, because I’m obviously pissed at the moment. But after this? OVER IT.)

So please take your ill-informed righteousness, and move on down the road. I am done justifying or explaining anything to anyone. I’m not the first person to get divorced, I’m not a bad mother, and most of all YOU REALLY DON’T KNOW ALL OF THE DETAILS I REALLY TRULY FOR REALZ PROMISE YOU.

But many thanks for reminding me why I left organized religion.



P.S. Before you can go there – I’m not defensive, I’m cynical. And pretty hurt. But I am not defensive.

P.P. S. I helped a baby come into the world yesterday. Doesn’t get more miraculous than that. Did you do that? Doubt it. 1 God Point = Jen

Coach: “Jack go stand on the field by the ref.”

Jack: “OK, what’s a ref?”

He is not good at all, people. Like, at all.

But I truly can’t explain how proud I am that that has nothing to do with autism, and everything to do with his being related to me.



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