How Should I Talk About My Ex's New Partner To My Kids?

Reader Reeling writes,

I'm very curious about the introduction of a "person of interest" to kids when one parent is leaving the other parent to pursue their affair (emotional/physical, whatever).  The leaving spouse already has the potential desire of introducing someone new to the kids and the "left" spouse is still trying to figure out what the heck just happened. The kids are still confused and extended family is still reeling. Do morality clauses in parenting agreements do any good here to at least try to prevent overnights when kids are used to mommy and daddy? Do they do any good at all? How does the "left" spouse handle teaching the kids good moral standards when their other parent is exhibiting anything but. How does the left spouse handle the "just trust me to do the right thing" when there is no trust left?... kids are primary/upper grades elementary school aged children.

Dear Reeling,

I understand why you're so upset. It would be hard not to understand. Kudos to you for focusing on your children's transition and not your own pain. (By the way, you should find a supportive counselor to help you through this difficult time.) There are plenty of ways to ensure that your kids have the best transition possible, and one of them is letting go of what you cannot and should not control. If your ex had an affair, then he already has a relationship with some woman. It is likely it has been going on for a while, and if he left you for her, it's serious. So you're right that he will probably want to introduce her very soon, and then they will likely live together if not marry, and then the overnights will be constant. And before that they may be constant too.

This may be difficult for you to deal with, but what are your choices here? You can't stop him from having a relationship. You can try to make some parenting agreement clause but usually those exclude serious relationships/fiances (and so he will likely just propose to her if she's that important and if you give him an ultimatum like that). Your best bet is to focus only on your kids and their transition. Discuss with them that daddy may have another partner, and she will probably be very nice, and they should try to enjoy their time with her. There is absolutely no up side and only down sides to making your kids dislike this person. She may be their stepmother and it would be horrible for them to start off on a bad foot with her.

On a more important note, your ex's poor choices when it comes to cheating on you do not have anything to do with his ability to be a good dad. He is right that you need to trust him -- not with your own heart but with the hearts of your kids. If he behaves egregiously, like getting drunk around them or having loud sex with his new girlfriend, you can intervene at that point. But if he is anywhere in the realm of normal, he is worried about the kids' transition too, and will be trying to be a good dad. You don't have much of a choice but to trust him, so try to focus on his positives as a dad.

You need to realize that anything you do in this situation will affect your children, and you have the power to either make sure they remain close to their dad, or you could singlehandedly alienate them from him. Read this post about a reader whose parents trash talked one another, and the terrible effect on her. Read this one about how parents (even when still together) can mess up their kids by causing the kids to side with one parent against the other.

I am not saying you are going to alienate your kids from their dad. But I am concerned by what you call his "lack of morality." If you mention this, or if you so much as roll your eyes about your kids' dad in their presence, they are going to pick up on it and may start to view him as a bad person. This means that they will view themselves as created by a bad person, which means they will have low self esteem. Through whatever therapy and conversations with friends and family and whatever other self-care you need to do, you need to put on a game face in front of your kids and only mention the positive parts of dad. And if your extended family mentions anything bad about your ex in front of your kids, you need to stop them from doing that right away.

So, basically, you have to trust your ex to do the right thing, while you raise your kids however you would have before all this. On top of this, you have to focus on the positive parts of your kids' dad and mention those parts out loud. Encourage them to love him. It is the best thing you can do as a mom and your kids will learn whatever they need to about your ex as they become adults. For now, loving him is the healthiest thing they can do, and you must facilitate and support them in their love of him and their trust in him, even if it nearabout kills you. (As I mentioned before, now would be a good time to start seeing a therapist who can guide you through this.)

Good luck and keep me updated. And till we meet again, I remain, The Blogapist Who Says, Stay Strong!

For more, visit Dr. Rodman at Dr. Psych Mom, like her on Facebook, and join her on Twitter @DrPsychMom.

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His Hands: Love and Loss After Divorce

On our first date he sat across the booth from me at Outback Steak House and over a Blooming Onion he said, "I bet you've never dated a guy like me."

I replied, "What do you mean?"

He held up his fingers, palms toward him, fluttered them and said, "A guy with dirty fingernails."

He was right. I hadn't. I'd recently left an eight year marriage from a soft-handed man. My now ex-husband was hygienically conscious and washed his hands after every meal, every task, lotioning them up in the dry winters. My ex-husband's fingers, like mine, typed on a computer all day. They didn't smooth wood or grout tile or carry stacks of lumber and crack from overuse like this man's hands. This man's hands were tools fastened to his wrists. They were like giant boulders on the end of steel rope; mangled, filthy, misshapen and torn to pieces. At this point in my journey, I wanted different hands.

On our second date he took his hands and he used them to help paint my bedroom. Never once afraid of getting them dirty, he wiped away the excess paint without thought or consideration. He ate fajitas that night on my back porch with Celedon colored cuticles.

Then one day, he took his hands and he built my toddler son's "big boy" bed. He took large rails of oak from his own childhood bed and he fastened them to a frame. When he watched me look sentimentally at my son's dismantled crib, he waited until I was gone, and then took a piece of it and used it for a headboard. Back then, in the beginning, I didn't even know how to make him understand how much it meant to me.

Over 9 months, I'd get to know those hands pretty well. They held me so kindly while I sobbed in some of my worst moments of despair. One evening, when I was too weak and sad and scared to move from my bed, he took his hands and he brought me my shoes. He gently opened the tongues, undid the laces and he slipped them on my feet. Then he took both his hands and lifted me up, off that bed, and he made me live again. And again. And again.

Sometimes, as we lay together at night I would take his big, rough, more-knuckle-than-phalange fingers and I would run the pads of my thumb over his thumbnails. They were as flat as sanded pine. He'd laugh and say, "My thumbnails are permanently flattened from hitting them with a hammer so many times." Oh I loved that about him. And I loved those thumbnails. They were my favorite part of those tough, gnarled, gentle hands.

With those hands he's built homes, not just houses. With those hands he black-belted in more than one martial art but never talks about it. Those scratchy and knobby fingers held his newborn baby girl against his chest, and after watching YouTube videos, those stiff fingers braided her long, 10-year-old hair. Although he could so easily, he'd never use them to hurt her, or me, or anyone, really.

But he's gone now.

A few times, toward the end, when I was finally seeing the beauty of his hands, he'd come home from working hours and hours on someone else's house and he'd have cracks in the skin on his fingers that ached horribly. I'd inspect them, go to the medicine cabinet and retrieve anything I could find to make the pain go away. He smiled so sweetly when I covered his wounds with Sleeping Beauty band-aids. I'd ask him if it felt better and he said no, but it will tomorrow.

He left because he feels like his hands aren't good enough for mine. He left because his hands are as empty as turned over buckets and he's afraid of how that emptiness will hurt me. Nothing I say will convince him that his hands are enough.

And now, all I can think about are all the things his hands have done. And now I cry for different reasons. I cry when I remember that one morning when he took his right hand in my left, and his left around my waist, and slow danced in my kitchen to silence after I'd just spent several minutes raging over an angry email from my ex. Now, all I can think about is how those rough hands softened me time and time again.

As things were looking like they were coming to an end, we spent one last weekend together at the beach. While there, we built a fort, like children, and sat under it and out of the rain. We cooked by a fire. A fire he built. We took shelter behind logs of driftwood, logs he moved into just the right spaces. When I saw his hands I asked him to hold them out, I wanted a picture.



He asked me why I wanted a picture of his hands. I wasn't able to convey all the reasons why, but it was because I loved them, and appreciated them, and I knew I might never see them like that again. I needed that memory.

Those huge, hard-as-stone hands could build anything, fight for anyone who needed it, and yet... I know he would never use them to hurt me.

In the end, he was right, I'd never dated a man like him. But someday, I hope I might again.

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What My Pit Bull Rescue Taught Me About Unconditional Love

I’m in love with a bully. It’s true. I think it's safe to say that most people assume she is mean-spirited and dangerous, but they don't see the side of her that I do. I've often been asked why I let her into my life to begin with, seeing as how she makes it more difficult for me to find a place to live. She eats only expensive food and people even move to the other side of the street when they see us walking together. People assume too much about us.

Nahla, my beautiful pit bull rescue, has taught me more about love, happiness, and loyalty in the past year than my husband ever did. She is fiercely kind, comforting, and forgiving -- everything I could ever want in a spouse. She touches places in my heart that I was sure I had boarded up and abandoned long ago. We laugh together in the good times, and we cry together (well actually I cry, and she licks my face) during the bad times.

I think I grieved more in the three hours I thought I was going to lose her because of a snake bite than I did for my husband when he left. Actually, my husband was the one who told me, "we'll have to put her down because it is going to cost too much to save her." (Can you believe he actually said that?!) Thankfully, the vet saved her life, and I got sense enough to kick him to the curb a few short months later. It is kind of ironic to think I almost lost the one who loves me most because of the one who loved me least.

My point in all of this is simply to say that love isn't what I thought it was when I got married. It isn't something only seen on date night with twelve red roses. It isn't something that can be confined to a ring, a white dress and a cake. Language, race, political views, gender and even species don't matter to love. The truest, realest love I have ever known comes from someone who can't even utter the words, "I love you." She tells me with good-morning kisses and good-night snuggles. She saw me at my worst, broken and alone, literally lying on the floor of my bathroom and she still loved me. She loves me so much that she brought me her favorite toy and laid beside me on the cold floor. This gesture, among many others, gave me the strength to love and trust again. She uncovers daily the beautiful pieces of me that I had lost in my marriage and she sets them free.

Even as I'm writing this she has made her way over to rest her head on my knee to remind me that I'm never alone. She is the most beautiful gift and I vow to always cherish her -- down to the very last chewed up shoe.



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A Thank You to the Ex-Mother-in-Law Who Didn't Like Me

My ex-mother-in-law and I had a terrible relationship. It was the cause of many fights between my ex-husband and I and created great stress. I'm not here to write about those old stressors or air any dirty laundry. It was difficult to go through and hurt me that my MIL did not like me, but I made my mistakes too, and that time is over.

When my ex and I separated, and he went back to his parents to stay for a while, I worried that my relationship with her would be worse than it was before. I fretted about how much his parents must hate me since we were splitting up. I figured there would be comments left and right about me, the terrible mother and person. "My daughter would end up not liking me," I thought, letting the worst thoughts run through my head. How could this go well?

Guess what... It did.

Sure, there were a few rough moments in the beginning and we don't always agree on stuff, but what happened after that was beyond what I could have hoped for. They say that who shows up during the roughest times in your life are the ones you can truly count on. I thought it would be other people in my life coming to my side to cheer me on, but those people haven't showed up yet. I never imagined in a million years that one of the people who would step up to the plate would be my ex-MIL.

When my ex and I divided our daughter's life practically in half, I wondered who would take her to school on "my days" and pick her up? I could do before care and after care, but that would add up, and since I'm a mom who has just returned to the workforce, it would be a tough expense.

My ex-in laws stepped up to help me. It was for the greater good -- for our child's good they said. Never once do I hear a complaint. Never once am I told this is an inconvenience.

When we decided to put our daughter in play therapy -- but I realized that my job is incredibly far from her therapist and her school -- my ex-in laws agreed to meet me and my daughter at her therapist after the sessions are over so they can bring her back south to school and I can head north to work.

Never once did they say, "Figure it out," or "So what? So you're already coming into work late at 10:35. Make it 11:30. Too bad, lady."

Never once did they say, "Why do we have to help so much?"

The other day my ex told me that in order to avoid ruining his credit completely, he would have to sign over the deed on the marital house -- where I'm living -- to the bank. I understood. First, I'm not on the mortgage and don't feel the pain of a foreclosure or missed mortgage payments. Secondly, while this isn't optimal for him, a foreclosure would be worse and I believe in the school of thought that says both parties in a divorce need to move on and thrive. I want both of us to be okay. I do not wish for my ex's demise. I want him to be happy -- that's my daughter's father!

But when I heard I had 73 days to leave the house, I cried. I just started a job eight months ago. I started a second job seven months ago. I am not financially on my feet and this puts me in a very bad position, but unfortunately, even if we aren't ready for life, life is always ready for us.

One evening I asked my in-laws to watch my daughter after school instead of aftercare so I could look for homes. Did they complain? No. When I came to pick up my daughter, my ex-MIL could see the stress on my face. Just one day before this, I had sent my ex-in laws a card and in it I said how much I appreciated them, their efforts as grandparents and that their support makes all of our lives, especially our daughter's, easier. I hadn't heard yet if they had received the card and so I was anxious. Not to mention I was overwhelmed. The house hunt was awful. I told myself it was day one but in my head all I could think was, "Just 70 more days."

"I got the card," she said to me, while my ex-FIL played with my daughter.

"I really appreciate everything you guys have done for us -- for her. Thank you."

As she asked me about the house hunt, I started to cry. That's when the woman who hated me reached in for a hug. And as she hugged me she said to me in my ear, "You will always be her mother. That will never change. I will never do anything to hurt that. And I'm sorry for everything. I know we are different, but that's behind us."

I told her I was sorry too and that I hoped the past could stay where it belongs -- in the past.

When I went home that night, something changed between me and my ex-husband. His mother and I had finally given him the gift he had wanted for so long -- a truce, but more than a truce. It is a mutual understanding that even though we are completely different and may not always walk to the same beat, we both have the same goal: a happy child and grandchild. Two happy co-parents. Yes, my ex lacked in helping his mother and I get along when we were together, but that doesn't matter anymore. The old injuries are not to be tallied.

Instead I count all the blessings my ex-in laws have given me.

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Being a Single Mom Sucks

I used to make fun of that saying, "it takes a village to raise a child," but it's true. You may not need a whole entire neighborhood but another set of hands would be nice.

Don't get me wrong, I love my children. I feel like I have to put that out there so no one calls the Department of Health and Human Services on me. I enjoy my time with them and every day they teach me, yes me, something new about life, love and most importantly empathy. They are truly wonderful children.

That said...

I'm tired and thinking my own mother didn't know how good she had it. She raised my brother and I on her own but we also lived with my grandparents. She had backup care if she had to go to work and we were off, shoot, she had back up care if she wanted to watch General Hospital. Me, not so much. My children's grandparents are already gone and I live far away from any familial help so that means, it's all on me and let me tell you, all on me sucks.



I long for the days that will keep all of us at home and them in bed an extra hour later so I can do things like write this blog or watch a rerun of Gilmore Girls. The daily monotony of getting them all up, doing school drop offs, going to work, picking everyone up, making dinner and giving baths has gotten old.

It got old, real quick.

No one tells you how awful it is when you're sick, the kids are sick and you just have to pull on your big girl panties and make it work. It would have been wonderful to just pull the covers over my head and sleep off the flu but I couldn't. I never knew my body could function on 0 hours of sleep and 103 fever but it can. It's amazing what sheer will can do. We may have lived on Chinese take out for three days but at least it had veggies in it. I am now a firm believer that Won Ton soup can cure anything.

Life was nice when there was another set of hands around. Someone to do things when you were tired or just plain didn't feel like it. It was nice to have someone to cook dinner when you were out of ideas and didn't want take out again. With someone else helping out, it left me free time to plan fun things to do with the kids. Now, I'd just be happy to not have to struggle for 30 minutes with a jar of spaghetti sauce. I would start an upper body workout to have more strength but I seriously don't have the time.

I tell myself, I do it all for them. I say this to myself at night when I'm alone snuggled up next to my boyfriend pillow. The kids are happy and that's all that matters. They've come to understand that Mom has to work so we can have money to buy things and pay for our house. It still doesn't make the decision to miss yet another field trip any easier. When vacation days are far and few between, I do what I have to do. Maybe one day my circumstances will change and I'll have something more than Mom Guilt to keep me warm at night. Until that day comes, I'll keep putting on my big girl panties and slugging along.

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Divorce and Fear: How to Cope

As mediation day approaches, my anxiety rises. This, of course helps no one, least of all me. So, I work on that; daily, hourly. I breathe a lot. Not just your average in-and-out breathing. A lot of deep cleansing breaths, time outs where I lay on my bed, close my eyes, and wait for my cat to sit on me. I let his breathing and weight calm me. I take 10 minutes to slow my heart rate, to be in the present.

I have been paralyzed by the fear; but I can't stay in paralysis. I have to function as an adult, be a mom, and keep my panic quiet to protect my kids.

I have been paralyzed by the fear; but I can't stay in paralysis. I have to function as an adult, be a mom, and keep my panic quiet to protect my kids. I have to trust that I will persevere and even flourish as I have with every previous life challenge, daunting or not.

Life can be hard. The tough times make us stronger even if, while in them we'd rather crawl under the covers, watch bad TV, and eat ice cream. You can do that for a day here or there (and I have), but that won't get you through and past the hard times.

What am I afraid of? Everything. How much child support will I get? I am the primary caregiver of my children. Will I get spousal support? I am unable to work consistently due to a chronic illness. Will I be forced to sell the house and move my kids five months into the biggest trauma of their lives? If we do move, will I be able to stay in this neighborhood, where they go to school, have their life?

Looking at these questions, a reasonable person, an objective person, would say what needs to happen is what's in the best interest of the kids. And a reasonable person would agree, they should not have to move, they need financial support, as do I. Let's make sure they get through this as unscathed as possible. This is about them.

Unfortunately, things are so contentious with my ex that I cannot simply say: It's in the boys' best interest to put off selling the house a year. I know you want to sell now; it would be a cleaner break for us. It would be better financially. But, let's do what the boys need. Next year isn't that far away. We aren't even speaking. Every communication is run by my attorney. That's fear. And I'm sick of it. I'm ready to soar again.

I am still reeling from the change; so are the kids. It's been so fast--moving them out of their home seems like a blatant not in the best interest of the child violation that would get struck down by any reasonable mediator or parent. But it's all unknown. And that is where the fear comes in, the unknown.

When I was a kid, everything felt unknown. My parents had a messy divorce and we moved often--both parents combined, 10 times just through high school, the unknown. I changed schools six times, the unknown.

I am terrified, and the only way I can deal with the fear is by step-by-step, day-by-day following these four simple guidelines. I don't always succeed, but I'm doing my best.

Take it one day at a time. There is no other way to get through a tremendous life change than one day at a time. Anything else is overwhelming. The practical me is thinking ahead; I'm thinking of what-if scenarios, but nothing has been decided and I am not powerless. I have a say in what happens, I also like control and to know what to expect. And, although I can't dictate an outcome, I can plan, I can be ready, and I can stay calm.

I have to do this for myself and my kids so their world, our world, feels as secure as possible. I can only control my actions. I don't know what's coming next. Will it be a nasty email about finances or custody? Will one of my sons succumb to the stress or get sick, scared, depressed, cry for hours and need to be held? These have been regular occurrences, at least once a week for one or the other child since their dad left. And when this happens, I drop everything and nurture, and reassure, even when I'm exhausted, empty, and scared. One day at a time. Eventually, it's bedtime, and a new day comes.

Have faith that things will be OK. I am not a religious person, but I have found that through hardship comes strength, and with faith and trust, I will have good things, I will get what I need. Given that which I have lived through, physical abuse, verbal abuse, an unstable childhood, an eating disorder, financial stress, medical issues, I'd say I'm doing well. I have worked through my issues and learned how to parent in a healthy way. I do work that I love, when I can. I manage my physical illness, and I have forgiven and moved on from the past. So far, despite hurdles, this latest one an unexpected divorce, I am a survivor. I don't feel strong right now, but I know I am. I have history to back that up. I have a support system to remind me. And I have children to love and care for. I have to be strong. And have faith.

Lose it sometimes and give in to the fear. There are times when just curling up into a ball and crying or raging or zoning out helps. It just does. You can't stay that way. I can't. I have responsibilities. But if I let myself go there and really feel the fear, then I can come out of it. I can set it aside. Trying to keep my shit together all day every day is not realistic, even without a divorce. So, I allow myself to lose it. I just make sure I don't scare my kids. I cry, nap, write, rant to friends in my divorce support group, and let it out. And then, I have to be done. I have people helping me, and I have myself. Being afraid is OK; it doesn't mean things are doomed. Feeling the fear when I need to allows me to move forward; I have no other choice.

Finally, treat yourself as you would an ailing friend or child. You are in a shitstorm, there is just no other way to put it. But, it won't last. In the meantime, what would you do if a friend, or your child, was so distraught that they cried at the drop of a hat, felt like they couldn't function, or feared for their future? You would baby them. You would nurture them with whatever kindness and care works for them. For me, enough sleep is my top priority, emotionally and physically. Then, limiting stress; reaching out only to those who support me and avoiding all others; making sure I have my favorite foods to enjoy without overindulging and otherwise eating healthy fuel so I feel good; getting fresh air and sunshine and resting in a quiet, dark room when I need to. I exercise when I can and take breaks when I'm not up for it; now is not the time to sign up for a marathon. I'm already doing one. And it's taking an emotional and physical toll.

When my kids are sick or overwhelmed emotionally, I let them take a mental health day. I buy their favorite ice cream. I let them watch a little extra TV. I cuddle more, I read stories. I nurture. So, nurture yourself. That's what I'm trying to do, because I'm hurting, I'm struggling, and my reserves are low. It won't always be this way, but one day at a time, with faith and self-care I will come out on the other end, better, stronger, and happier. And, so will you.

This post originally appeared on The Good Men project as Coping With Fear During Divorce.

For more from this author, visit her blog at In Other Words.

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10 Key Things I Learned While Dating After Divorce

When we said our wedding vows or made our commitments to our partners we never imagined that one day we'd be facing separation and divorce. We never imagined having to date again. That was my experience anyway. Yet, after the ending of a 20-year marriage, I picked up the pieces again, licked my wounds and decided that I did want to date again however weird and uncomfortable it might feel to do so in the beginning.

I've experienced the highs and the lows, the laugher and the tears and I'm glad I did because I met someone new and we're very happy together thank you very much! How different my life now feels.

So what did I learn and what words of wisdom can I share with you if you're feeling awkward, unsure, or frankly terrified? Here are a handful of things I came to realize whilst dating after my divorce.

• Decide what you want to get out of online dating. If you're looking for a partner, be honest with yourself and make that clear in your profile. If you're looking for friendship and a bit of fun, say that too. There is no point in falling for someone who's looking for different things than you. It's just not going to work and you'll end up hurt and disillusioned.



• Know your values, even before you've completed your first online dating profile. What's important to you? What do you look for in life and in a relationship. This isn't about a list of requirements expected of a potential date by the way! This is about you and what you hold dear.



• Enjoy yourself, have fun! Some people treat their dating as another career! Lighten up, enjoy the process. Don't take it or yourself too seriously and you'll meet some great people along the way.



• Take nothing personally. This is really important. You can read all the horror stories online ... remember good stories tend not to sell as well as bad ones! You'll be approached by people who've not really read your profile, you'll be contacted by people who are rude, you'll be liked and winked at all the time. Take nothing personally. You get to choose who you'd like to respond to or approach. Remember too that many you contact won't respond (if good manners are one of your core values this will be a challenge!) Simply move on!



• Have the right positive attitude before spending your time on dating websites. If you go into it with a heavy, bruised heart with negative inner dialogue you're going to struggle. At the same time don't go into it naively imagining that you'll meet your ideal match immediately. These things take time.



• Write a compelling and irresistible profile. So many profiles are bland and boring so it's actually easy to stand out from the crowd and it'll make all the difference to your experience. (I'm here to help too, it's what I love doing.)



• Be truthful at all times. If you're 50 don't say you're 40. If you smoke and get no exercise don't say that you're into healthy living. It might seem obvious but you'd be amazed! Honesty is one of my core values and the foundation for a good relationship.



• If you're nervous about meeting up, spend time emailing and letter writing. It's what my partner and I did and it was wonderful to see our relationship develop as we asked questions of each other ranging from the lighthearted to the more penetrating.



• Be open minded. You never know what you might learn about yourself and life by dating someone you'd not have looked at in your past relationships! There is a richness added to life when we step out of our comfort zones.



• Invest in some excellent photographs of you looking relaxed, happy and at ease. It will make all the difference ... NO selfies.

What positive things have you learned from online dating in midlife?

Earlier on Huff/Post50:

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Competing for the Kids

Most of the divorced with kids crowd will have played the "competition game" before. Some play competitive all the time. Experts will tell you it's not good for the kids. I've been collecting stories from children of divorce for years, and the kids will tell you it's not good.

Even with all the data pointing to the fact that using your kids as pawns and competing for your kids is not good for them, people continue to do it. If you are one of those that are stuck with an ex that just can't stop competing, I've got a trick for you. Follow my advice and you can compete and WIN! Bonus effect, your kids win when you compete to win my way.

Here's how to compete to win with an ex that can't stop competing.

Compete for Time - You can't control what your kids do when they aren't with you, but you can control some things when they are with you. So compete to spend the most quality time you can with your kids when they are with you. Single parents don't often have much time, but you can carve out special time devoted to your kids each day that you have them. Choose a book you all can enjoy and take turns reading for 30 minutes each night. Cook dinner together, play a board game, take turns making up stories and sharing them -- there are tons of things you can do inside of 30 minutes to spend quality time with your children and develop a good relationship with them. Only one rule, you can't talk about your ex or anything that goes on over at the other house.

Compete to Be The Kindest - Again, you can only control you, so why not compete to be the nicest one? If you have a nasty ex, you are most likely guaranteed to win, but the real winners will be your children. You will be setting a fine example of how to treat others and how to rise above in situations beyond your control. You can demonstrate the fine art of taking the high road. Double bonus, the less time you spend playing competition with the ex, the more time you have for better things.

Compete to Be the Best Parent You Can Be - Parenting is hard work and it takes time. It's even harder after divorce. Did you know it's the little day to day things that build great relationships? Each day you have a chance to be the best parent you can be. You only have to compete with yourself and the kids always win! Slow down, the earth won't stop spinning. Practice patience, practice kindness, practice listening and practice forgiveness. Each time you pay attention to these things, you will find that your life flows smoother, you get along with your children better and you might even find that your ex lets up on harassing you when he/she figures out you won't fight back anymore. The days are long, but the years fly by -- you don't want to spend the short few (half time) years with your children complaining about your ex or competing with your ex.

You can start today. Be creative, you can do it!

Here are three scenarios: (1) Kids go with one parent on a private jet to a private island, nothing but water sports, chefs and nannies. Kids do tons of things, but parents are mostly busy by themselves. Kids come back and tell the other parent all about the fancy trip. Other parent gets sad. (2) Kids go with one parent on a road trip to the beach. All three kids pile in the car and they stay at average hotels. They play car games, sleep together in one room and tell bedtime stories and build sandcastles on the beach together. (3) Single parent takes the two kids and they have a picnic under the kitchen table and build a fort in the bedroom and camp out and eat cold smores.

Here's a little secret - my kids and your kids could really care less how fancy things are (despite what they might say to you) but they really care that you spend time with time, listen to them, really listen to them, and get to know them. So while scenario number one might sound like the winner, the kids in scenario two and three will remember these things for over 20 years. The kids in scenario one let this trip blend in with all the others, the ones where the kids are left with the nannies and in camps.

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The Word: Purpose

The word purpose Has the word pure in it E is the final letter…   …P-U-& R begin it   Purely a coincidence Undecided, well think about it Realization of a higher love Purpose isn’t pure without it On some … Continue reading →

The post The Word: Purpose appeared first on Divorced and Scared No More! by Tony

Illinois' New Photo Lineup Law

By Glasgow, Beattie, Olsson - Schaumburg, Illinois

Wrongful convictions can destroy lives. Being convicted of a crime one did not commit can land an innocent person in prison, saddle him or her with fines and legal fees, and destroy his or her career and relationships while the truly guilty party lives free.

How Can I Challenge a Garnishment?

By HG.org - Houston, Texas

Garnishments can result in the withholding of up to 25 percent of a person's disposable wages, according to federal law. However, there may be a number of objections that a debtor can raise to reduce or eliminate the garnishment.

10 Reasons People Get Married, Even If They Know Better

By Tara Eisenhard for DivorcedMoms.com

Not all relationships are meant to last forever. Sometimes a couple sticks it out all the way to the altar. They might make it work for a few years. Maybe they'll even have children. But sooner or later, to nobody's surprise, they find themselves in front of a judge, begging for a divorce. By that time, each party is angrily declaring, "I never should have married you!"

Bystanders often ask the obvious question: If they knew they shouldn't, and they wished they hadn't, then why did they? Every situation is slightly different, but there are a few popular reasons. Ten of them are below.

1. The Next Logical Step. They've been together for years. They live together. They're a cute couple. Isn't marriage what you're supposed to do?

2. Once Upon A Time, They Were In Love. In the beginning, their story was like a fairy tale. Sure, things might have cooled down... but what better way to jumpstart Happily Ever After than a wedding?

3. Desire To "Grow Up". How can you be an adult if you've never been married? Everyone knows a ring comes with an upgraded standard of living and a more favorable reputation in the community.

4. "He'd Make A Good..." He has a good job, a clean record and an outstanding credit score. He loves kids and he adores you. So what if you don't love him all that much?

5. Fear Of Staying Single. Because "Crazy Cat Lady" isn't a title most women want on their personal resume.

6. Wishful Thinking. Getting married means growing up. No more staying out too late. No more mysterious texts. And he'll have to cut back on the booze. He can change, right? He has to, because of love.

7. Security. Who wouldn't sleep better knowing there's a backup income to pay the bills if you get laid off?

8. A Baby On The Way. Kids need parents who are married, don't they? After an unexpected pregnancy, getting married is the "right" thing to do.

9. Pressure. Society says you need to get married. Your friends are all married. Your family keeps asking when you're going to tie the knot...

10. The Clock Is Ticking. Better get a husband before you run out of eggs!

More from DivorcedMoms.com
5 Signs Of A Toxic Relationship And How To Get Out
When A Sexless Marriage Leads to "Hallway Sex"
The 3 Biggest Mistakes Women Make In Divorce - From Someone Who's Been There
6 Personal Financial Mistakes You Don't Want To Make After Divorce

Also on HuffPost:

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How Living With and Loving Bruce Jenner Changed My Life Forever

Editors' note:Though Jenner has come out as "for all intents and purposes a woman," he has not yet indicated that he would like to be known by a new name or female pronouns, so this story uses male pronouns.




By now, Bruce Jenner has revealed his struggle with gender dysphoria.

I never would have dared to speak on this issue before he was comfortable enough to do so first. It is, after all, his truth, so I knew he should be afforded the dignity to reveal that truth on his own time and in the way he sees fit.

I have respectfully kept his secrets private and would have taken his confidences to my grave had he not spoken out.

But now, many years into his remarkable life, he has spoken out. His legacy will likely be sprinkled with references like "Olympian," "decathlon gold medalist," "world's greatest athlete," "son," "brother," "husband," "father," "grandfather," "friend," and, hopefully, "pioneer" and "trailblazer for the civil rights of the transgender community."

So as much as this is about Bruce, it's not all about him. The sharing of my experience is meant to enlighten and inform -- to lend a modicum of comfort and support for all those disenfranchised, struggling, discriminated-against, searching souls.

Bruce's story and his struggle are uniquely his; my experiences with Bruce are commensurately uniquely my own.

Following is a brief history of my time with Bruce -- a life experience that shaped my existence immeasurably.

* * * * *

One hot Memphis night in July 1976, Elvis (yes, that Elvis) and I were watching the Summer Olympics that were being held in Montréal.

We were lying in bed (our usual perch) at Graceland and had been watching the telecast for days. We were pretty closely following the American athlete Bruce Jenner, who was dominating the decathlon competition. Bruce was on the final lap of his last race, the 10th event, and as he crossed the finish line to win the Olympic gold medal in the decathlon competition, distinguishing himself as the "world's greatest athlete," Elvis and I were exuberant about the win for the United States! We were also commenting on what an amazing specimen of a man Bruce Jenner was. Elvis remarked, "Damn if that guy is not handsome! I'm not gay, but damn, he's good-looking!" I quite agreed and teasingly said, '"Wow! He is gorgeous! I'm going to marry that guy someday!" Elvis replied, "Yeah, sure, honey, over my dead body."

I met Bruce Jenner at a celebrity tennis tournament three years later, in the spring of 1979. The tournament was a benefit for the John Tracy Clinic for deaf children. The event was held at the Playboy Mansion. I had never been to the mansion before, but Bruce had been living there part-time since his separation from his then-wife Chrystie.

I was a regular cast member on the TV variety show Hee Haw and a fledgling actress of some note (think Aaron Spelling shows), so I was invited to the mansion to hand out the winning trophies to the participants playing tennis. No surprise, Bruce won the tournament, and I presented him with his trophy. That's how we first met, on a tennis court.

Bruce was clad in shorts and a sweaty T-shirt, his well-toned, muscular body still in Olympic form. He was sweet, shy, and very gentlemanly. He asked me if I came to the Playboy Mansion often, and I said, "Oh, gosh, no! I've never even been here before!" I remember thinking I didn't want to give him the wrong impression. I didn't want him to think I was an aspiring Playmate!

His friendliness became a little flirty, so I asked him outright, "Hey, aren't you married?! I watched you win the Olympics, and as I recall, your wife was very present!" Bruce's whole demeanor changed as he sadly responded, "No, I'm separated, and it's really not a lot of fun." He seemed so childlike and lost in that moment that my heart truly went out to him. I said I was sorry to hear that, and we continued to chat for a while, still on the court.

Everyone at the John Tracy Clinic event was reconvening for dinner after tennis, and Bruce had planned to go home, shower, and change clothes before coming back to the event for dinner. However, he kept hanging around and finally explained, "I really don't want to leave you alone here, even for a little while. I've seen how George Peppard and others are looking at you and just waiting for me to leave so they can hit on you."

I thought, "How charming and gallant!" Bruce stayed in his shorts and T-shirt while others were dressed for dinner, and he and I continued to get to know each other. Bruce asked me out for dinner, and, of course, I said yes. Thus began a romantic relationship that lasted several years and produced two wonderful sons.

Bruce already had an adorable young son named Burt, and during a brief reconciliation with Christie, they were blessed with a beautiful baby girl named Cassandra. Burt and Casey (as I call her) have always been a tremendous blessing and gift to my life.

During the course of our dating, Bruce and I traveled to Australia to promote his upcoming film with the Village People, Can't Stop the Music. Alan Carr had produced the movie, and we became fast friends. Alan was very flamboyant, funny, creative, and generous. Alan insisted that, on our return trip from Australia, Bruce and I let him treat us to a pre-honeymoon of four days on the incredibly gorgeous island of Bora Bora in Tahiti.

Bruce and I had a relaxing and romantic time on this enchanting island. We stayed in one of those thatched-roofed, over-the-water huts, so we could just step off our deck into the crystal-clear water and be swimming with the multicolored fish instantly. At night we would lie under the stars and talk about our future and the magical quality of the universe in which we lived.

The Bruce I knew back then was an easygoing, down-to-earth, casual, romantic, good and loving man. I was extremely happy to have found such a remarkable partner with whom to share my life. I found him to be honorable and, well, just too good to be true. Just too good to be true indeed.

I found myself pregnant for the first time in my life. When the doctor's office called me to tell me the results of the pregnancy test, I fell to my knees with joy and prayed that I would be worthy of carrying that precious life. It is a feeling I'll never forget. I really felt in that moment that whatever had transpired in my life of any negative nature, any transgression I had ever perpetrated, had somehow been cleansed away from my being. This was a new start for my life. Clearly I was deliriously delighted with the news.

* * * * *

Bruce and I were married Jan. 5, 1981. We were married at the beautiful, beachfront Hawaiian home of Alan Carr. There were only about 35 people in attendance, including our parents. Bruce's son Burt served as the best man, even though he was only 2 years old and was constantly interrupting our nuptials with "I want up." It was very sweet and lent a warm, familial touch to the ceremony. My nieces, Jennifer and Amy Thompson, served as the flower girls, and my sister-in-law Louise was my matron of honor. It really was quite an extraordinarily beautiful wedding. We said our I-dos at 6 p.m., just as the sun was setting over the placid, blue Pacific Ocean.

It should be noted that Bruce was a very secure man, because the music I chose to walk down the aisle to was Elvis Presley's "Hawaiian Wedding Song." It had always been my dream to get married in Hawaii. It was a dream that had been spawned by Elvis' movie Blue Hawaii. I had watched that movie over and over as a little girl and always thought, "How very romantic it would be to get married in such a beautiful paradise!" To Bruce's credit, he went along with my fairytale plans for a cinematically inspired, sunset wedding in Alan Carr's Japanese garden at the base of Diamond Head, on Waikiki Beach, on the beautiful island of Oahu, Hawaii. Only Elvis was missing in my fairytale wedding.

Brandon Thompson Jenner was born June 4, 1981. I thought I knew what love was before giving birth to my baby, but whatever I had experienced in the past paled in comparison to the utterly unconditional love I immediately felt for the little bundle I now held in my arms. Burt and Casey came to the hospital and got to see and bond with their new little brother Brandon.

Those were very happy days for me. I truly loved Burt and Casey, and Brandon was the absolute sunshine in every day of my life! This newfound motherhood thing seemed to be my natural calling in life. I had already practiced on Burt and Casey, since Bruce and I frequently had them in our home, and they were still very young. So I felt prepared to be a mommy to Brandon. I loved having this little ready-made family to enjoy and spend time with.

Bruce and I actually made quite a great couple at the time. We got along exceedingly well and enjoyed many of the same activities, once he taught me how to do the sports that he enjoyed. Bruce taught me how to jet ski, water ski, snow ski, play tennis, eat healthfully, work out regularly, and basically lose my fear of getting my hair wet and opening my eyes underwater. Well, I may be exaggerating about losing my fear, but it is fair to say that Bruce unleashed a natural athlete in me. I became a pretty good tennis player, and Bruce and I even hosted our own celebrity tennis tournament benefiting United Cerebral Palsy in Children for several years. It was called the Bruce and Linda Jenner Love Match.

Bruce and I appeared on red carpets regularly, and we were perceived as a "glamour couple." We also lent our time to charitable causes. We were the national honorary chairpersons of the Juvenile Diabetes Association and regularly supported the Special Olympics.

* * * * *

One day we got a call from the White House asking if we would be available to meet President Ronald Reagan in the Oval Office as representatives of the Juvenile Diabetes Association. I was still nursing Brandon, and the timetable was, basically, "We would need you here in Washington the day after tomorrow." We didn't want to miss the opportunity to have an audience with the leader of the free world, so I barely had time to store up some breast milk, find something appropriate to wear, and get on that plane to our nation's capital. It was a quick turnaround. We were back in Malibu in a matter of hours, but the honor of meeting the president of the United States is a lasting memory. I was very content to be back home in Malibu with my sweet baby Brandon in my arms and an interesting memory to tell him about when he was older.

Bruce possessed such a natural athleticism in everything he attempted to do. He seemed to excel in every sport he tried. Whatever he did, he was daring and cut an amazing form. Bruce was pretty much the perfect specimen of a man. Men aspired to be like him and wanted to hang out and play sports with him, and women were clearly attracted to him. The Bruce I knew back then was unstudied, affable, and seemingly very comfortable in his own skin. So it seemed.

One summer Bruce and I were asked to do a summer stock production of Li'l Abner in Birmingham, Alabama. We thought that sounded like fun, so we agreed to do it. Bruce was surprisingly very musical and liked to dance. We traveled to Birmingham and went into rehearsals. Of course we took Brandon along, and he had a great time parading onstage right along with us, in his very own Li'l Abner costume. We actually got good reviews, although I discovered live theater was incredibly nerve-racking. I had done plays in high school before, but this was a full-on musical and was really quite demanding.

Bruce and I spent our days living at the beach, jet skiing, walking on the beach every morning with our coffee, sailing on a Hobie Cat, playing tennis, and otherwise just enjoying each other and many of the same activities. I thought we lived a pretty idyllic life.

* * * * *

When Brandon was just over 1 year old, we thought it would be nice for him to have a younger sibling. Pretty soon I was delighted to be pregnant with my second son, Sam Brody Jenner. I named Brody after my brother Sam. Brody was born Aug. 21, 1983.




Those were the happiest days of my life. I had a wonderful husband, who was the most athletic, high-spirited, energetic, easygoing, manly man imaginable. I had two beautiful, healthy baby boys. I had two great stepchildren. Life was just about as good as it gets. We had moved into a sweet, one-acre mini-estate where I planted roses, fruit trees, and flowers, and where many lasting memories were made.




Bruce traveled a lot, doing motivational speaking, working for NBC SportsWorld, racing cars, and throwing himself into other assorted jobs and activities. I often accompanied him, always bringing our sons, and sometimes I stayed home with the boys while he traveled.




When Brody was about 18 months old and Brandon was about 3 and a half years old, Bruce came to me one day with a very somber look on his face and said, "There's something about me that I really need to tell you, something you need to know." I truly thought he might possibly tell me he had had an affair while on the road. But that's not what he wanted to confess to me. Bruce told me that he identified as a woman. Not understanding exactly what he meant, I questioned him. "What do you mean you identify as a woman?" I asked. "What does that mean?" He replied that it meant that for as long as he could remember, he had looked in the mirror and seen a masculine image staring back at him where there should have been a feminine reflection. Bruce lamented, "I have lived in the wrong skin, the wrong body, my whole life. It is a living hell for me, and I really feel that I would like to move forward with the process of becoming a woman, the woman I have always been inside."

People have asked me, "Were there any signs or clues through the years that Bruce might have had this issue? Any evidence he wore your clothes?" No. Not a clue. Nothing. Nada. Never.

I would venture to say that 30 years ago, very few of us were adequately educated about the world of gender dysphoria. I certainly wasn't. I was living in my little Malibu cocoon of marital, motherly bliss with my world-champion, muscular, athletic, handsome husband. So my reaction to Bruce's shocking declaration was one of confusion, even desperation. I suggested that we go to therapy. I needed to understand fully what Bruce's issue was, and then to determine if it was something we could overcome or "fix." I was naïve. As I said, I was pretty ignorant of the fact that being transgender isn't something that can be overcome, fixed, prayed away, exorcised or obliterated by any other arcane notion. Being transgender, like being gay, tall, short, white, black, male, or female, is another part of the human condition that makes each individual unique, and something over which we have no control. We are who we are in the deepest recesses of our minds, hearts and identities. I had to learn that life lesson and apply it to my own expectations for my future and the future of my family.

I found a therapist who specialized in gender dysphoria. Her name was Dr. Gertrude Hill, and we began going to her right away. She was a lovely woman who very calmly, and as gently as she could, massacred me with the information that broke my heart into a million pieces. She told me in one of the first few sessions, "Linda, this is who Bruce is. His identity is that of a woman, and that will never, ever go away. You have a choice to make. If Bruce goes through with his gender reassignment, as he is now planning to do, you have the option of staying with him after he becomes she, or you can divorce him and move on with your life." She told us that 25 percent of transgender people commit suicide because they are so depressed and feel so hopeless.

Around that time Bruce considered traveling out of the country, possibly to Denmark, to have the gender-confirmation surgery and then come back to the U.S. identifying as female. I asked Bruce, "What about the children?" He thought maybe he could reenter their lives as "Aunt Heather."

As devastated as I was, my heart bled for Bruce and what he must have lived with his entire life. It's impossible for those of us who are comfortable living in our own skin to fully grasp what an imprisonment that must feel like to be born into the wrong body. I know it's difficult to understand, to emotionally or even intelligently wrap your head around. It was extremely difficult for me to comprehend, and adjust my life accordingly to, the realization that the man I had married -- the very masculine, gorgeous, ideal, wonderful hunk of a man -- would be no more. The human entity was still alive, but it truly was like mourning the death of the person I had grown to know and love.

Bruce and I separated after going to therapy for about six months -- just to exhaust any hope of keeping our family together. Being married to a woman was not what I had envisioned for my life.

I was so heartbroken that I would get in my car day and night and aimlessly drive up and down Pacific Coast Highway, crying. I mourned the death of my marriage, my man, and my dream of enjoying a lifetime of family togetherness. But I was also empathetic to, and mourned for, the pain that Bruce had experienced every day of his life. As earth-shattering as his confession had been for me, pulling the proverbial rug out from under my world, Bruce's struggle made mine pale in comparison. I now had to "man up," support Bruce and his decisions regarding his own body, take care of my sons, and move on with my life.

Bruce went to see a Dr. O'Dea and began taking female hormones. Thirty years ago the only hair removal that was permanent was electrolysis. There were no laser hair removal places then, as far as I know. Poor Bruce began the process of having electrolysis performed on his heavily bearded face. He then began having the hair on his chest removed. One excruciatingly painful hair at a time was targeted by an electrical current. Unimaginable. Bruce began to grow breasts as a result of the female hormones he was injecting. My life, my psyche, my femininity, my sexuality, my sanity was in a state of upheaval. I panicked about what I would ever tell my two boys about their former Olympian father, and how I would raise them alone. And then I would experience waves of crippling sorrow, not only for myself and my sons but for Bruce.

I may be the only woman in the state of California to have waived child support and alimony. But when Bruce and I divorced, that's what I did. As confused and sad as I was, Bruce was also very confused and extremely distraught. Again, Dr. Hill had told me that one in four transgender people commits suicide. I knew I didn't want that to happen. I had an open-door policy for Bruce when it came to visitation, letting him see his sons any time he wanted to. Brandon and Brody went over to his home occasionally but never spent the night there.

One day, after having spent a little time at Bruce's house, both boys came into the kitchen and said to me, "Mommy, we saw Daddy getting out of the shower naked, and Daddy has boobs!" That day I began trying to cover for Bruce, trying to protect him and trying to explain away what was clearly happening to his visage. I said, "Well, boys, you know how your dad was super-muscular and trained very hard for the Olympics? He had big muscles, and some of those muscles are called 'pectorals.' When you stop training and you stop lifting weights, sometimes the muscle turns to fat. So his pectoral muscles have probably just gotten a little flabby and look like boobs." I was trying to shield Brandon and Brody from the truth and protect Bruce at the same time. It was exhausting.

I began dating David Foster, whom I subsequently married a few years later. Bruce dated several women, even though he had begun his transition and showed signs of it. He had no facial hair, no chest hair, and boobs, and he had gotten a nose job and trimmed his Adam's apple. Clearly he was still confused and conflicted as to how fully he was ready to commit to changing his life completely.

If Bruce had told me about his gender issue when we first began getting romantically involved, I would not have married him. Pure and simple. But looking back, I'm so grateful to God, the universe, and Bruce that I didn't know, and that Bruce played the role in my life that he did. What a tragedy that truth, if Bruce had confessed it in 1979, would have been for my existence as I have known it! I would never have experienced the joy, the honor, the privilege of being the mother of the two most precious gifts I have ever known, Brandon and Brody. As life has a way of unfolding as it is meant to, I have learned to trust life.

I felt such a reverent obligation to keep Bruce's gender dysphoria a secret for Bruce to reveal or not that I did not even tell my sons until they were 31 and 29 years old, respectively. I wanted Brandon and Brody to experience enough life and garner enough knowledge, confidence, and compassion to be able to deal with their father's true self. We are not defined by our parents, but we don't know that as young children. I tried to raise my sons to embrace open hearts, forgiveness, kindness, tolerance, and compassion. They have been imbued with good values and are remarkably noble, showing incredible acceptance, understanding, and forgiveness toward Bruce and others.

* * * * *

I wouldn't be completely forthcoming if I didn't disclose in this writing that after Bruce and Kris married, there were periods of several years going by without Bruce attempting to contact or visit his sons. No birthday cards or phone calls, no "Merry Christmas," no "Everything OK?" after the big Northridge earthquake. Brandon and Brody will never have those "Hallmark memories" of father-and-son moments. They were saddened by his lack of participation in their lives, and my heart ached for them. When Brandon asked me, "Mom, what kind of a father doesn't come to his son's graduation?" I meekly replied, "Honey, your dad may have been the world's greatest athlete physically, but emotionally, you have to view him in a wheelchair. If he had emotional legs, he'd get up and walk to you, but he just doesn't right now. Just try to understand him, love and forgive him." It was an analogy that seemed to soften the blow at the time, and I do believe that forgiveness is a gift we give ourselves; it's really not even for the person we choose to forgive but for us. We only do harm to ourselves when we harbor resentment and vitriol toward another. I do believe that everything is forgivable; some things are inexcusable but forgivable.

After Brandon and Brody were grown and I did reveal their father's issue, I think the knowledge helped them put the pieces together and explain some of Bruce's dysfunctional parenting. I certainly did my share of rationalizing through it all.

* * * * *

After having harbored his secret, and feeling in my heart and mind that I have protected him through these years, I can now breathe a little easier, knowing he now has found the strength and the courage to fulfill his dream. He can finally realize his need to be who he authentically is, who he was born to be. That takes tremendous courage. For that I commend him.

Bruce has already "gone through the fire," suffered unfathomable discomfort and pain, been held prisoner in his own flesh. It is certainly not our place to judge him or others who may feel trapped, ostracized, or alone.

My hope and my prayer is that humanity has evolved enough and been properly educated to exercise kindness toward those who have struggled or who we may perceive to be "different." Our uniqueness, our individuality, and our life experience molds us into fascinating beings. I hope we can embrace that. I pray we may all challenge ourselves to delve into the deepest resources of our hearts to cultivate an atmosphere of understanding, acceptance, tolerance, and compassion. We are all in this life together.

As Henry James so wisely advised, the three most important things in life are:

1. Be kind.



2. Be kind.



3. Be kind.

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Divorce Confidential: The Fight for the Family Residence

A major bone of contention among divorcing couples is the division of the family residence. This is understandable given that couples invest considerable time, effort and money in creating a dwelling place. Unfortunately, divorce causes change and one of the biggest changes is the loss of the family residence. Due to this unforeseen circumstance, you may be required to "downgrade" to a smaller place or may be required to rent instead of own a new home. A divorce may also force you to move to a less desirable neighborhood and potentially a neighborhood away from family, friends and your children's school.

So what options do you have when you and your ex-spouse are set to divorce and there is a family residence to divide? Here are a few options to consider:

1. Sell the Family Residence: One option that divorcing couples opt for is to sell the family residence. Proceeds from the sale of the residence are then split between you and your ex-spouse. If the family residence is set for sale, you and your ex may be required to hire a real estate professional to appraise the value of the residence, especially if you both cannot agree to the listing price of the residence. You and your ex-spouse will also need to agree on the realtor to sell your home and the provisions related to the sale. For example, who is responsible to show the home after it is listed? Who is responsible for mortgage payments and other expenses until the home is sold? It is a good idea for you and your ex-spouse to sit down and discuss sale provisions and figure out a rough timeline for the listing and sale of the family residence.

2. Buy-Out: Another option to consider, if you have the ability and the funds, is to buy-out your ex-spouse's interest in the family residence. If you choose this option, talk to your family law attorney in your state and place provisions in your written agreement about the buy-out. Buy-out provisions may include a timeline for the refinance of the residence and an outline on what will happen if the receiving spouse fails to refinance in a timely fashion or is unwilling to pay the mortgage. It is also a good idea to include in your written agreement, provisions related to title transfer of the family residence to the receiving spouse.

3. Stay in the Home Pending Sale/Transfer: Many divorcing couples stay in the family residence and live together pending the finalization of the divorce. While this might make sense for some families, it also creates an environment of stress and tension, not only for the divorcing couple, but also for the children. What happens when you or your ex-spouse date other people? Will you and your ex-spouse continue to eat together with your children as a family unit? Who will be responsible for chores around the house? How will you share custody and visitation with your children if you're still living under the same roof? One New Yorker made headlines last year when she shared her story about her divorce and the dispute over the marital residence. Pending the sale of the marital residence, this New Yorker continued to live in the marital residence with her current husband and her ex-husband and their children. Did I mention this New Yorker was also expecting a baby with her new husband? Before you choose this option, it's important to have a plan and discuss this with your ex-spouse so boundaries are established and communication tools are in place if conflict occurs. Having a plan will eliminate any tension that may occur when living in close quarters.

Discuss these options with your ex-spouse, along with your family law attorney. Your family law attorney can give you more detail on what options are best suited for you and your unique circumstances. While it may be uncomfortable and upsetting to divide an important asset such as the family residence, this may also be an opportunity to start fresh and create a new home for you and your family.

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Defining Moments: When Moving On Meets Letting Go

"Everyone here has the sense that right now is one of those moments when we are influencing the future". - Steve Jobs

I call this the limbo time of year between the glorious fall foliage and the frigid winter blast that always arrives sooner than I'm ready. It's unusually balmy, a night we might otherwise be outside biking or at the park. The comfort of that thought makes me want to bundle up my precious ones in my arms and NOT tell them anything. We've dreaded this inevitable moment for the better part of a year and on this early November evening in 2004, the 7th to be exact, we will tell our three young children that their little lives are about to divide in half. After having worked out the myriad of details involved in this new life forward, my soon to be ex-husband and I were determined to be able to answer as many of their questions as we could. They didn't know it yet but he had bought the house around the corner; privacy for our lives apart yet convenient to keep their lives as stable as we could. School would remain the same, friends, community activities, parks and bike routes. One week here where they had always lived, the next week there. "Mommy's House" and "Daddy's House"...how strange that sounds when I say it out loud.

Making Decisions

How could we make the unknown less frightening? We knew what we didn't want for them; none of the chaos and dysfunction we so often heard about. That wasn't our story, nor would it be our legacy. Their needs were our priority; no different than if we were a family together under one roof. We would always be their parents protecting them from harm. Our family would soon discover a new kind of normal. We were retiring our marriage after 18 years. Divorcing.

Funny what you notice during surreal moments when change creeps in, pulls up a chair and makes itself at home. My hands are sweaty and my head is hot. My throat is dry and my dread is palpable. I feel the fear; for them and for myself but can't let on. Here I sit at the top of the stairs where I've sat a million times over the last 14 years. It's my perch to welcome friends, wave the children off to school, and applaud the parade of neighborhood kids' Halloween costumes in our entrance-way. This was my observation deck of high traffic and countless memories. I look down and notice dog hair from our black springer spaniel staring back at me from the dusty rose carpets that were in fashion when we built this house in 1990. Surely I had vacuumed yesterday?

Defining Moments

What defines the kind of moment you know is a snapshot for your memory quilt, frozen in time? What defines a feeling happening now that you'll surely remember forever as the point of departure? This is the moment when everything changes. For every family, the moment is different. I was about to become the captain of my own ship. I had never lived on my own before. We were in full agreement to co-parent three young sailors 50-50, who never asked to be crew on the journey. I would stay here; take on the financial responsibility of this house by myself, and to do so I had spent months re-establishing my company after many years of part-time client contracts organized around full-time stay-at-home parenting. Doing things right had taken time. I am grateful for a home office, where I can continue to work keeping to some kind of routine. I did know one thing for sure: that a new reality would officially begin today for our two sons and daughter, ages 13, 9 and 6.

I look over at my husband wondering when the moment will present itself, the quiet just before our words would begin to flow. The time would choose itself. There would be no turning back from this day, our lives were moving in two different directions. Our house was now mine and with the proceeds of his sale to me, his life would have a new start, right around the corner.

Our New Normal begins

Telling them Mommy and Daddy are going to be living in two places from now on; that we are not going to be married together anymore but that the most important thing was that we loved the three of them with all our hearts, more than anything in the world, just about broke me. Uncertain, confused stares and then tears. My gut ached and I think I forgot to breathe. And then, THE question we had prepared for came: "where's Daddy going to live"? Our reply was ready telling them about that nice little house around the corner with the backyard on their favorite park. They knew which house we were talking about. "That's Daddy's house now and on Sunday nights, we'll take turns and you will still have us both, but you will have us in two houses."

I'm not sure how long the millisecond lasts before they asked their next question with wide-eyed wonder: "Can we go there...now?" One look between us acknowledges that this is our defining moment, the first of many. I don't think I skip a beat when I say with a lump in my throat, "Of course you can, go ahead". And with that, they gather up their coats and with childlike anticipation of the unknown mixed with strange comfort, the four of them walk out together and close the door.

And here I sit. Alone in the loud silence in "my" house, change wrapping itself around me and little puddles quickly appear as dark pink polka dots on the well-worn carpet. The tears come as the moving on meets the letting go. At 41, the next leg of my personal journey was underway but so was my new-found friendship with courage, belief, faith and new hope for the future.

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How Do Movies, TV Shows, Music, and Video Games Get Rated for Content?

By HG.org - Houston, Texas

Most parents are concerned with the things their children see and hear in the media. It is an ugly world out there, and while it may be inevitable that they will eventually learn about all of those things, most parents do not want their kids to see graphic violence or mature content or hear offensive language at too your an age.

The Top 10 Things Every Midlife Woman Should Know About Dating

When my marriage ended, I wondered if I'd be spending all my free, non-kid time with my books and my cat. There have been weekends when I've done just that, but there have also been long stretches when I've dated up a storm. Dating in my 50s turned out to be much more fun than dating three decades ago. I don't feel pressured to get a rock on my finger and I certainly don't want more children. I am much more grounded and more comfortable in my skin than ever before and it is these qualities, I think, that have enabled me to enjoy the dating ride. Here are 10 things I've learned about how to do just that.

1. Hone your online dating profile.

If you expect to find your soulmate on OkCupid, you will probably marinate in frustration. Instead, treat online dating for what it is: an invaluable way to learn about yourself and what you want in a partner, love, and sex. But remember: you are selling, not buying. Do not start off with a mile-long list of "I'm looking for" qualities. Not only are you likely to scare people off, but you also run the risk of alienating people with your high maintenance-ness. What you want is to create an experience of a relationship with you that will attract the kind of man you want to be with.

2. Date people you wouldn't normally date.

If you always date older, try younger. If you gravitate toward dark hair, go for blondes. I always dated white-collar, highly-educated men but after my divorce I had a great casual relationship with a handyman. Dating outside your type -- especially if your type hasn't worked out -- will give you a sense of who you are as a single person, without the pressure of "is this the one?"



3. Always wear sexy lingerie.

Wear it everyday, even if you're not going anywhere but the grocery store. You'll feel sexy knowing you're sporting black lace boy shorts under your jeans, whether or not a guy sees them. Think of lingerie as self-care, a way of honoring yourself as a woman.

4. Have a first date uniform.

Have at least one outfit pre-selected, one that you know you look good in, so you're not scrambling through your closet at the last minute trying to figure out what to wear. For me that meant boot-cut jeans, a black sleeveless top, and black high-heeled sandals. A first date is probably not the time to don an entirely new style; you want to relax knowing you look terrific instead of second-guessing your ensemble.




5. Be honest with yourself about casual sex.

Some women can do it. Some can't. There is no right or wrong either way. But if you get emotionally attached the first time you have sex with a man, then you need to wait until you feel there's potential for a serious relationship. If you just want to explore your sexuality, go for it (but be safe) and don't worry what the women's magazines tell you. You're a big girl and you're capable of making your own decisions about sex.

6. Detach from the outcome.

With dating, as with life, you should focus on the journey, not the destination. But make sure you're always in the driver's seat. Don't feel pressured to have sex before you're ready, or a relationship in which you settle. Don't worry about your wrinkle lines, your imperfect past, or your ex. If your date has a problem with any of this, he's not the one for you. Everyone at this age has less than supple skin and midlife baggage.

7. Have boundaries!

Casual dating is not an appropriate scenario in which to talk about your antagonistic ex, your childhood wounds, or your son's pot problem. If the date turns into a relationship, all of this is fodder for discussion and will come up naturally. But if you lay out your emotional cards in the beginning, you will overwhelm your date and obscure all the positive things about you and your life. Early- stage dating is about fun, not a therapy session.


8. Explore your sexual fantasies.

If you've spent the bulk of your adulthood in a long-term marriage or relationship, especially one in which your sex life was Saharan, now is the time to try the things you've only imagined. If you're on the shy side, loosen up with dirty talk. If you're feeling adventurous, take a stroll through a sex shop. Or a sex club. The only rule is to respect your limits, and those of your partner. But don't get to the end of your life regretting the kind of sex you never had.

9. Be positive.

Your ex may make Attila the Hun look like a nice guy, but don't disparage him over cocktails. And don't trot out a laundry list of the other people who have wronged you, or go on about how much you hate your job. You shouldn't be Pollyanna, but being positive about yourself and others is an incredibly attractive quality -- ultimately much more important than your looks or what digit your age starts with.



10. Enjoy your lack of commitment while you can.

Don't be miserable that you're not in a relationship. And don't kid yourself that all those married couples on Facebook are living in blissful unions. You may not have a date for Saturday night, but then you also don't have to deal with someone else's money problems, health problems, or failure-to-launch kid problems. Nurture yourself in your alone time: start that yoga practice, take a cooking class, write a blog. And enjoy dating for what it is.

Practice for the real thing.

Photography by Nick Holmes and Inez Lewis

Earlier on Huff/Post50:

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Underage Drinking Liability: Illinois House Bill 4745

By Cosley Law Office - Rolling Meadows, Illinois

Minor in possession. Open container violations. Driving under the influence. Minors are particularly susceptible to committing these alcohol-related crimes in peer-driven situations while still underage. Some parents have resigned to the fact that their children will drink regardless of their efforts, and will do everything they can to keep them safe-even if that means breaking the law themselves.

The Process of Qualifying to Do Business in Another State

By Jurado & Farshchian, P.L. - North Miami, Florida

If your Florida-based business has operations in more than one state, you should be aware of the operating requirements for each state in which you do business - a process known as "qualifying to do business." Whether or not your company must qualify to do business in another state depends on whether it engages in intrastate commerce or interstate commerce.

It's Okay to Believe in Love Again

With the second year underway in which I am single, I got to wondering how could it be that I am relatively unbothered by this dry spell. This is certainly the longest that I have ever been without a significant other. But the truth is, I am not sure which is more alarming -- that this is year two that I am single or, if left no other choice, I could ride out on this single wave. While I am not as happy as I could be if I had a beau, I am also far from unhappy. I guess I am suspended somewhere between hope and resignation.

The right significant other would certainly add some much needed vibrancy to my days' mundaneness. But for the first time in a very long while, life is pretty good. It is peaceful and drama-free. It is uncomplicated by love's demands and complexities. I do not have to concern myself with the intentions, feelings, issues, finances, well-being, trustworthiness, or desires of another. I can just be. After my past relationships, I am spent.

That ride or die, by your side through any kind of weather, we can make it work no matter what girl is gone and likely never to return. In her stead is a survivor who, dare I say, has standards and now knows exactly what she wants from love if there is a next time around. And it's nothing short of almost everything.

I thought I had it all figured out. That is until I shared my brilliant perspectives on love with a woman whom I trust and simply adore -- my aesthetician, a 60-something year-old divorcee with no children. She too has weathered love's storms. And the passage of time has only enhanced her wisdom, her beauty, and her knowledge of self. She is not jaded or pessimistic when it comes to love. She is rather matter of fact about it. If it shows up, great. If it does not, she will continue to enjoy her freedom and life's pleasures.

During a recent treatment, she poked and prodded around my heart looking for bumps and blemishes just as she did with my face.

"So are you dating?"

"Not yet," I answered feeling the slight embarrassment I tend to feel when asked that question.

When I opened my eyes and glanced up at her, I saw a look of concern and then empathy sweep across her face.

"I'm not even sure that I care about dating. I never plan to marry again. I don't want anymore kids. And I do not want to expose my son to random men. Plus, going on a date means that I have to pay a sitter so that I can go out with someone who may not even be worth the expense or time away from my son."

I could see her contemplating then quickly dismissing my unsolicited litany of reasons as she continued my facial.

"You have to change your mindset. Are you going to meet someone and then spend the rest of your life with him? Probably not. But you've still got to get out there."

"I know that I do, and you're right, but it's hard. Being a single-parent is a round-the-clock job. I'm exhausted. I would rather sleep or curl up on the couch and watch TV than go on a date. I know exactly what I want, and I also know that there's not much out there, so I'm not too eager to get back on the dating scene."

Once again, she wasn't buying what I was selling.

"You have fear and trust issues."

I laid there baffled at how fear and trust issues were all that she was able to take away from what I had just explained. What about the praise for my being cautious, for considering what's best for my son, for knowing exactly what I want and not settling for anything less?

Never one to badger, she simply offered, "You're too young to give up. You've got to get back out there."

When I got home, I thought about our conversation. Was I more transparent than I realized? Were all of my reasons and rationales nothing more than excuses not to give love a try again? Was I allowing fear and an unwillingness to trust hold me captive in the safety of a world that includes only me and my son?

Later that evening, while pinning on Pinterest, the resounding answer to all of my questions manifested itself. The pin read:

It's okay to believe in love again.

It was as if the universe was grabbing me by the shoulders, and shaking me awake. I had lost my belief in love. Convinced myself that love was not for me. That it was fleeting, unpredictable, painful. That only a fool would willingly jump on and off this roller coaster that takes you to soaring heights, only to let you free fall, make you sick to your stomach, scare you out of your wits, and jerk you around. 

But no matter how I try, I cannot deny love's sweetness. How it can make you feel reborn. Make you radiate from the inside out. Connect your soul to its kindred soul. Make life all the more beautiful. 

Indeed, there is no perfect love. But despite its imperfections and failures, it is still magnificent.

It's okay to believe in love again. 

And I think I do.

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