Do you still believe the things your ex says about you?

I've heard stories about amicable divorces. They are surely out there. Right? Can anyone verify that people really do separate on good terms?  Are there any first-hand accounts available of what it is like to interact peaceably with the other parent or former partner? If there are, I think I need a nice, long sit-down over a pot of tea to understand the mechanics of that kind of relationship.

It's no surprise I don't have that. The peace I have has come from within, and I am grateful for that. I have worked and do work hard to get to that silent, still place in myself and in my life that is not cluttered by the noise of someone else screaming, of legal issues and complicated schedules.

And no matter what I write here or say to my parents or seethe over in my mind, I work very hard to have a workable relationship with The Ex. Sometimes, it goes better than I predict, thank goodness. Many times, it is tough but manageable. Other times, it is just awful.

Today was one of those days. A complete breakdown of communication into yelling and dredging up old stuff other ugly interactions that I am ashamed to admit. In defense of myself (and if I don't do that, who will?), I gave it my all. I tried so hard to just talk. I called back a second time, calmer, asking to negotiate, trying to reason. Sadly, none of that could be heard through the name-calling and accusations. It was as raw as it was early in our divorce process.

To be fair (and really, none of this is truly fair), I yelled back. I took the bait. I engaged even when I know, I know it is better not to engage. I tried to hard to let (my) logic win and I talked too much. I felt I was being fair, but I also know that too often I am not.

And in the end, I will not win this one (and no, when it comes to divorce, especially with kids, there is never winning). I will concede because otherwise the conflict will impact Lil E and I cannot have that. I am backing down.

Here I sit, hours and hours after the hour I spent on the phone with The Ex, and I am still sad, exhausted, overwhelmed by the idea it will always be like this (I know, it won't always be like this). The thing that feels the worst to me is being told how I am, who I am, and why I do the things I do (at least according to the other person on the end of the cell phone).

When I told this to my parents (as I tell all of these things), my mother asked me a hard but important question, "Why is it that you still believe the things he says about you?"

In my head, I don't. I know myself, better now than I did when I was married. But my heart sobs every time I'm told all of those awful things.

My marriage, until the end, was not like that. But my divorce is full of those hateful moments. I guess if I wasn't internalizing all those words, I wouldn't take it so much. I don't need anyone's "awww" for that. I am more upset that I let his anger inside the door of my home. Again.

Next time, I will end the conversation. Or hang up. Or follow through on my already-outlined list of exit strategies.

But I have a bigger task that clicking "end call." The opposite of love, my mother often reminds me, is apathy. Isn't that the damn truth? Truly, I was over the love immediately, and for most aspects of The Ex's life, I am completely un-invested. But I think today I got that I have been settled in the hate for so long, and now it is time to move into an apathetic place. Why is it so hard to get over so much other stuff but this, what the other person thinks of us, lasts so much longer than the loving feelings?

I have a lot yet to unravel. I have a lot to un-believe about the woman who messes up, yells, is miles away from perfect, but is doing her best in this single mama life a great deal of the time.

Even if none of you are blessed with an amicable ex-relationship, perhaps there are those of you who have been through the un-believing process yourselves. Please, share, share.

And if you, like me, are still caught in the chaos, do you continue to take your ex's beliefs to heart?

Also:

• Are you wearing your divorce?
• One small and significant reminder of new beginnings
• Holy oh hell, I am happy

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Tonight at the dinner table, we talked about Prop 8

There were only a few minutes at a time today that I wasn't thinking about the same-sex marriage ban upheld by the California Supreme Court today. How could I not? Twitter and Facebook updates were explosive in response and I felt emotional all day to see how vigilant we must be to ensure that all people have the fundamental right to marry.

Then I wrote about it, knowing I would get the all-caps responses that I indeed got (and am getting). And wanting, in spite of the hate or ignorance or just ill-informedness or shelteredness that might be revealed in comments section, for the conversation to be opened.

After I picked up Lil E, we went over the details of other things present in our day -- how he ran to the sink to wash his hands in the bathroom, slipped, knocked his head pretty hard on the floor and had a goose-egg still swollen on his noggin;how the Spanish teacher wasn't there but really was there but by the time they realized she really was there, it was too late, and so they played on playground instead of having class today; how we would not be eating pizza on the floor in a picnic and would actually have to talk at the table together.

We did talk at the table. We shared our usual Four Things About My Day and the favorite parts of our day. He asks, as he usually does, what I'd been blogging about, and in the most age-appropriate language I could find, I told him.

We've discussed this all before. This time, I gave him the context of the November elections and the California Supreme Court review of the proposition. Then I asked him what he thought. I grew up having a valid voice over such issues at the kitchen table, and he has that, too. Even at four. Especially at four.

He listened. He made a pouty face. He shook his head. His eyebrows framed a wrinkled nose.

"What do you think?" I asked. [The whole convo after the jump.]

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This is what happens when you are the mother of a son

You start loving things like this

and get all caught up reading this and get completely fascinated by this

and being on the lookout for stuff like this, and this and maybe even this, 

join in the "AWWWWWESOME!" chorus when you find things like this,

will try desperately to find bins and tubs and cute ways to contain all this business,

consider actually spending your income on crap like this,

will try to figure out how to DIY things like this out of 47 of these,

will start getting sort of uncomfortably unfamiliar with things like this (but not that, I would totally still play that)

and will get a big old geeky kick out things like this.

You start referencing this and this and these and those. Often. Too often. It scares your grrrlfriends. Especially the ones without children. Also the ones with little grrrls, because they may end up going to prom with your son and you will be the wackadoodle mom snapping photos while jabbering on about Darth Maul's two-bladed lightsaber out of nervousness that someone's going to lose something other than a rose-and-baby's breath corsage in the back seat of your Honda CR-V.

And you will love it. Love it love it love it.

And really, only because you love him. Love him love him love him.

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