September 7th, 2012. Ten years and 2 months to the day since my wedding. I am on my way to the Multnomah County Courthouse to sign the divorce decree and I am sitting in traffic thinking about where I will park when I get downtown. I am wondering where I will need to go inside the courthouse. I am trying to think about logistics. Anything to keep my mind busy. Everything feels surreal.
The cell phone vibrates and I look at the passenger seat next to me. The caller ID says shows that it is my daughter's preschool. They do not usually call me so I know it must be important. I answer the phone and the school director tells me that Adirah needs to be picked up right away. She threw up on the carpet as she entered the classroom.
The divorce negotiations have lasted almost two years and the thought of delaying this final signing is unimaginable to me. I feel like a superhero on a mission. I must sign these papers. The fate of the world depends on it. I call my soon-to-be ex-husband to see if he can pick her up but I get his voice mail. Then I call every babysitter I know. I use speaker phone and leave messages while driving across the Hawthorne bridge. It is a beautiful sunny day. The view of the city and the river looks like a post card. And no babysitters are answering their phone.
Finally my soon-to-be ex-husband calls me back and he says he will leave work and pick up our daughter. He is still on the East side and I am now downtown. His lawyer told him that he could sign the papers later or the next day. I will sign the papers today, on my own. I park and manage to find my way to where I need to be in the courthouse. “You look nice,” my lawyer says. I say nothing and I sign the papers.
That afternoon, I pick up Adirah from my now ex-husband's house. As part of the divorce negotiations, I have just moved out of this house, the dream house we built together. In this dream house, the tile, the countertops, the footed tub, even the door handles have been picked out by me. In the weeks before I left I planted lettuce and basil in the garden. A year prior, I found a used wooden play structure on craigslist and it now stands in the backyard. I am grateful for the rental house though. It's only about a mile from the children’s father. He will live in the dream house. I will learn to love the rental house.
Next we pick up my son, Asher from school. He is seven and in the second grade. We wait outside Asher's classroom until the bell rings. My kids are excited to see each other and they hug enthusiastically. Adirah wants to go swimming-and she points to her bathing suit. It's a warm day, but I don't think we can go swimming. I don't think she will have the energy to swim because she is sick after all. Isn't she? I decide we will drive across town to pick up a purple painted bookshelf I saw on craigslist. It seems perfect for Adirah's new bedroom at the rental house. I know it is a futile errand, but setting up the rental house is something I can focus on today. It is something to think about besides the failure of my marriage.
The woman I contacted from the craigslist ad texts me the address: 3829 SW Hamilton. We head over to the West Hills and although I know it will be a 30 minute drive, I convince myself that is a big adventure for me and the children. On the way there, Asher announces that he has to pee. It's 92 degrees. I am hot and tired and I can not find 3829 SW Hamilton. I pull in and out of driveways looking for addresses. Finally I call the woman on the phone. "Yes, she says, "just like I texted you 3928 SW Hamilton. I program the GPS on my phone with the correct address.
Somehow Asher manages to wait to pee and we find the house. We ring the bell and when the woman answers he bursts in and announces that he needs a bathroom. The woman points to a door and he runs toward it. I don't find out why, but the woman is selling almost everything in her home. We like the purple bookshelf and I also decide to buy the IKEA desk for $10. I tell the kids to wait inside her house while the woman and I carry the two pieces of furniture to my car. We return to find Adirah naked. "She had to pee," Asher says. "And since she was wearing a bathing suit I just took the whole thing off." I pause and think of how I am proud of him for helping and I also wonder if we are overstaying our welcome.
"I feel sick" Adirah says. "Oh no," I think, "I don't want her to throw up at the nice Craigslist lady's house." I get Adirah back in her bathing suit and carry her out of the house. Asher follows, a few steps behind us.
The drive home was hot. Adirah threw up in her car seat. Asher asked a lot of questions about the world and why things work the way they do. At home I cook dinner. I read books to the kids and finally get them to sleep. I wonder if Adirah would wake me in the middle of the night because she might feel sick again. I clean the kitchen and think about the future. And I think about the past. The sun sets and I reflect on the day. Really it is just another day in the life of being a mom. But it is also the beginning of the time where nothing will ever be quite the same.
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