Five Things I Should Have Warned My Ex About

A few years back I became engaged to a man I had been seeing for quite some time. Giddy with the prospect or remarriage, we moved in together with my children, and began planning our rustic chic fete, as well as our new life together. Within a year he went running for the hills leaving me with a $1700 raw silk strapless gown, and a wound in my heart so deep no amount of Cherry Garcia and Bethaney Getting Married re-runs could heal. (It took a trip to Costa Rica, time, and a profile on Plenty of Fish to even make a dent in the recovery process.)

Was he a complete asshole? Well yes. But completely human? Absolutely. Looking back I realize there were certain things I probably should have warned the poor bastard about BEFORE he decided to shack up with a mother.

1.) It’s Going To Be Loud- I have boys. I am Italian. These two statements should not require anymore explanation, but for shits and giggles I’ll elaborate. My kids make too much noise, I get pissed, I have Roman blood, thus I start yelling, they yell louder, I yell louder, pretty soon it sounds like an episode of Everybody Loves Raymond, and then we hug. Like I said, I’m Italian. It sucks, yes, but I can make up for it by cooking a mean frittata.

2.) You Really Should Not Expect Frequent Sex- I know this seems awful, but it’s not like I don’t want to rip off your mechanic uniform and make you happy. I just happen to have Frick and Frack up my ass most days and can’t be as liberal as I want to be. But what about at night? you may whine. Ah yes, at night, while our bedroom is right next to the people I gave birth to. Remember that one time you heard your parents moaning? Or even worse, walked in on them! Didn’t you want to gouge your eyes out? I just feel so weird performing any sort of sexy moves with my kids within earshot, so sex is relegated to the weekends they are with their Dad. Again, it sucks, but again I do a mean…oh never mind.

3.) I Don’t Give a Rat’s Prickly Ass About How Your Ex Wife Did Things- This is a big one for me. That’s great that Deidra never screamed, and Deidra never cried in front of the kids, and Deidra never lost her shit. That’s because Deidra was always lit. Give me a fifth of vodka and some good hash, and I won’t scream either. Please do not compare me to your ex or else remember those weekend when the kids are with their Dad? Yeah, that’s not gonna happen anymore either. I am my own person, and although I understand you spent a lot of years with someone else and may have gotten used to how they do things, don’t assume I will do it the same. As the song goes, I gotta be me.

4.) You May Feel Left Out- Listen, those two loud, sometimes obnoxious, always adorable creatures over there-they came out of my body. I would die for them. It has nothing to do with me not loving you. I’m crazy about you, but there are different kinds of love. The love for your children is so different from the love you have for a spouse. It does not equal less love though. I know sometimes you feel like the third wheel, but please know my number one job is to raise decent human beings. That may take time away from you, but please don’t label yourself as number 3, or last on the list. It’s hard work being a single working mother who is trying to navigate a new relationship. Be patient with me.

5.) You Were Pretty Freaking Special- Dating when you have children is a whole different animal versus dating before kids. I’m way more picky. Not only am I looking for someone decent for myself, but for my little people as well. Gone are the days of dating the bad boys, or being with someone because they are thrilling, or sexy, but not much else. If I was with you, then you have to know you were pretty amazing. Like my mother used to say, “God forbid something happened to your father and I remarried, I would have to look up his ass to make sure his hat was on straight.” This is true. You are no longer dating just for yourself. I would never bring some bozo into their lives without thinking they had some decent human qualities. Remember these people came out of my body! So yes, as much as you were an arse, you were a pretty special one.



I see you through the cracks in the dusty blinds. Phone wedged in your jean pocket, dirty blonde hair in your bright blue eyes.

Weren’t you like five the other day? Sipping juice from boxes and learning how to scrawl your name.

I see your gait, like a man now.

Weren’t you just figuring out how to crawl? The knees on your celadon onsie stained with grass. The furrow in your brow intense with determination.

I see the hairs above your triangle tipped lips beginning to sprout. Unibrow thick, gaze steady, the girls are taking notice.

Wasn’t I just nursing you yesterday? Didn’t I feel the warm breath on my neck?  See the gape of your mouth?

Where the hell did you go?

I see you through the cracks in the dusty blinds. I watched you turn from infant to toddler to child to youth, and soon man.

I see you, always. image

Little Boy

imageDip low little boy, let me smell your unwashed hair. You’ve played all day with blocks and plushies, let me blow the lint from your plump toes. 

You’ve ripped your bright blue octopus? Ah, that’s okay. The moon is out, put him down. We can fix him in the morning. 

Dip low young man, let me kiss your stringy hair. You’ve played all day on your electric guitar, let me soothe your blistered fingers. 

You’ve screamed and raged against my will. Turned my face red like a cranberry. The moon is yellow against the black. We can fix this in the morning. 



The stinking of a loveless act

Weaves numbing with rountine

Engage in bawdy banter?

Brazen and Seductive Canter

The minx, The moll, a twilight vixen

A cunning witch

Or the weeping bitch

Curse and spit, his slinking digit

The burn, then sigh, a hapless whimper

Tight and Wild, chief the night

The wanton purr of lively parts

The scent, the moon, the mark of scamper

A peek of lace. Midnight panther

Purity, the soft down fawn

Void comfort from a human hand

Ambition for Affection?

Still, masked, Perfect

‘Till He explodes

The dark, the gleam, Angry queen

Her curls, her pearls, the turquoise glare

Light O’ Love, turn and sigh

Dirty, marked, this bit of stuff,

Sucked or beaten, ruined, Weakened

Her flesh, her fat, her countenance

Ignored, Abhorred

Yet, always in the early pink tinged shimmer

Mornings gift a purity

Beautiful Allison may awaken

The Ladies are Alright


Sleet and ice conceal the asphalt

Staining my pale pink ballet flats an ugly charcoal grey.

Girls, cradled by the arms of youth, scuffle by

Feet enclosed in grubby sheepskin boots

Toned thighs raw, red, cold.

Sleet and ice cover the frozen grass

Littering the indigo hem of my Seven jeans.

Women, vulnerable to the threat of time, totter by

Their cable knit leggings tucked tight

into tall saddle colored leather

Arches fallen, tired, worn.

Elderly ladies accepting of their etched faces walk by

Their sturdy, purposeful gait anchored in a warm, dry rubber boot.

Cold,  murky slush splashes beneath the soles of these spirited souls

Dry toes show up as wide coral smiles, teeth stained by coffee, cigarettes, life.

Elderly ladies keep splashing, smiling knowingly

Their thighs, warm, their arches, just fine.



In my marigold sheath and satin underpinnings

I sit, I wait, you shift.

We flirt, with nervous eyes, expressive mouths, clumsy tongues,

Our milky cheeks flushed, like the inside of a bruised plum.

Your lips, still sweet with Bellini.

Wet strands, runny noses, your starched jacket

Now redolent with top note notes of marshmallow and

Easter lily.

We blend.

In our gleamy, musk drunk body glow

With darting breath and glossy limbs

We protect a fleeting lust, illiterate to a certain wane, we grip tight Continue reading