Last week, I died.
While my children slept, wrapped in fluffy, soft dreams of cotton candy innocence, I invited a man into my home. A man who wasn’t my husband. Leery at first to take the risk, I had asked him not to come over several times, but finally acquiesced, expecting nothing more than some polite companionship on a lonely evening. My
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Liz
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Since I don't like to talk on the phone (and they both know it) they have accepted that it is "check LJ" or "fret."
Cute approach.
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And I'd be shocked beyond all reason if my mom got on Facebook. She's just now understanding that she should call my cell rather than my house phone if she actually wants to reach me. My sister has started texting me though, and in my technologically disinclined family even that's strange.
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I'm one of the partners in The World's Most Amicable Divorce, 1992 edition. [actually, we split in 92, divorce finalized in 96.] It really can work well if you want it to. My ex and I get along so much better now that we're not married and irritated by each other all the time, and now that we're happy with significant others that are more to our liking. We've only argued twice and never in front of the children, and we try as much as possible to make big decisions about the kids in tandem with my husband, who has been raising the kids from my 1st marriage with our own daughter since 94. I hope things go as smoothly as it did for us - it takes work, but you can have a good divorce if you work at it.
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