Old Friends

We've come a long way, baby.

It seems like just yesterday I was stabbing voodoo dolls of J-Fed and concocting ways to cut his brake lines without ever getting caught. But in what is surely proof that time heals all wounds, even those caused by the illustrious affair between your husband and your neighbor (The Other Woman), it's all water under the bridge. And not even a body of water I'd care to drown her in.

While I likely will never accept the Fedster's relationship with T.O.W. or make her a part of my life, I have made peace with J-Fed. As a show of good will, I even gave my blessing for her to attend our older daughter's birthday party, which was held at my house. But that's a story for a whole different day.

Today's story gives me that warm and fuzzy feeling, like my first post-divorce sex. Anyway, I no longer feel the urge to stab him when we're in the same room together, which is why my knife collection went up on Craigslist, along with my bow and arrow. My blood doesn't boil whenever I see J-Fed. My heart doesn't race when his name comes up on caller ID.

What's with the sudden change of heart, you ask. Well, the change of heart comes from the change of him. It's hard to pinpoint exactly when we turned a corner, but I have a pretty good idea. 

You see, since J-Fed and I divorced two-and-a-half years ago, I've done everything to make his life as good as possible. I've made every concession to ensure he is a major part of our daughters' lives. From homework to dance to park days, he is included in absolutely everything. The girls know that they can pretty much count on seeing or at the very least speaking to their father every day.

But it doesn't stop there. When the real estate market took a dump, I convinced J-Fed that now was the time to buy. After all, did he really want to spend his life as a renter/ Although J-Fed had his doubts that he'd ever be a homeowner again, I was confident we could make it happen. I found him a nice townhouse, worked with the realtor and did whatever needed to be done to make sure he got a decent place to live for himself... and for the girls. In fact, I was even there with J-Fed at the closing to hold his hand and make sure everything went off without a hitch -- i.e. that he didn't blow the damn deal.