There are a gazillion stories in New York, but for some reason mine have a tendency to intersect and overlap. Shortly before I married Ex, the man I had originally moved across country to marry (which is another story in itself) called to congratulate me. And to share some good news. "I'm not sure how you'll take it," he warned.

"If it's good news, I'll take it just fine," I replied.

"Well, I just got a great new job — everything I wanted, more money, good accounts."

And the down side would be...?

"My office is next to Ex's. We'll be working together."

Great. Welcome to The Story of My Life.

Which brings me to my current conundrum. While I didn't need to vet my dates with Ex, he and S had known each other most of their lives, even played in a band together for heaven's sakes. How exactly to broach the subject that we were now dating?

The little devil perched on one shoulder couldn't wait to spread the news. Just weeks before S and I became an official item, I received a disturbing phone call from my church.

Seems Ex and his Next wanted my pastor to officiate their upcoming nuptials...even though neither of them were members of my — or any — church. What's more, they decided the best place to hold the ceremony would be the lovely little chapel down the street from my house, where my daughters annually sang Christmas carols, a place that had meaning for me, my daughters, the family we once were.

"Rise above," my friends told me. "You don't want to spoil his wedding; wait until after to drop the bomb." Okay, okay. I conceded to the little angel on my other shoulder.

Well, at least my intentions were good.

The night of the wedding rehearsal, S and I went out to dinner to avoid any awkward confrontation with Ex picking up and dropping off the girls at my house. I told them to give me a heads up when they were leaving.

I have a court date scheduled with Levi for October 23rd. He still hasn't paid a dime of child support and I, sick of draining my bank account down to pennies every day, am sick of putting up with his bullshit.

I am exhausted. This whole ordeal is so freaking exhausting. I never realized how worn out your emotions can make you. Getting a divorce is like running a million marathons.

I tried everything. I tried to go it alone. I've tried to pay for everything by myself. I've tried having four or five jobs at one time  I've tried to reason with him. I've tried to negotiate with him — always reiterating, "I'm not asking for a whole lot, I'm not asking to get rich, I just need some help." 

Every single time I've tried, I've either been met with lies, empty promises, or absolute hostility.

It's weird though, I'm not even angry anymore. I'm just...tired. I want peace in my life. I want happiness. I want my son to have a peaceful, happy, wonderful life. I need to be able to provide that for him.

I just wish I knew what I was doing wrong. Why is it so impossible for me to communicate this effectively to Levi — effectively enough so that he'll listen? Effectively enough so that he'll step up and do SOMETHING.

This doesn't feel right, either. It doesn't feel right to drag the man — a man that I once loved so much — into court and call him a deadbeat.

I realize now why I've been avoiding this moment for so long — filing papers, and then retracting them — it's painful. This hurts. This back and forth bickering. This sitting back and watching Levi not only abandon but totally neglect our son. This really hurts. I only wish there was another way. 

I met my ex's sister, Erica, for the second time today. We had originally planned to meet yesterday and have a picnic in the park, but that didn't work out.

So, as I had already decided to take Adrian fall shopping today (it's getting cold quick, and I just realized he doesn't have any pants that fit him!), she asked if she could come along and perhaps buy him some clothes.

I agreed, but warned her that shopping on a weekend, in Manhattan, with a two year old can make someone nuts — but she still wanted to come.

The last time we met, we barely talked about Levi and I was hoping not to talk too much about him today. On the way to meet her, I reminded myself, several times, to keep my snide comments to myself. I'm really good at making them, but I know it's not her fault her brother is an asshole, so I try to keep it in check.

Well, about halfway into shopping she announces to me that she is adopting a baby. I was pretty surprised by this as the last time we talked she told me that she would never consider adoption.

She went on to tell me that the process was going to take awhile, because she wants a newborn and some other specific requirements.

Before I even had a second to think the words "Or, you could just wait until your brother has another one he doesn't want" popped out of my mouth and right at her.

She didn't say anything...right away. About five minutes later she said, "You know, I told Levi that he should get a vasectomy." I nodded and said, "He should want to." Then she said, "Yeah, I told him that he should freeze some sperm before he gets it, in case he wants to have another baby."

That's when I said, "Or he can just take care of the children that he has."

Who? Who? You are wondering. Good headline eh?

First the backstory. On Sunday my late brother Stephen's beautiful wife remarried.

His 11 year old daughter was a flower girl and his two boys ages 11 and 10 walked their mom down the aisle and gave her away.

Waiting at the altar was her lovely new husband. His 16 year old daughter and his 14 year old son from a previous marriage were also in the ceremony.

Suffice to say it was a bittersweet day for my family.

Tears of sadness flowed as freely as the notes from the saxophone playing in church, as we watched his family move on without him.

Tears of joy flowed too, for this wonderful new opportunity and for this blended family that found each other to move forward with.

The party was classy and full of love and my sister-in-law and her new hubby left for a two-day mini honeymoon in NYC.

I volunteered to sleep over and handle things on day two.

The kids live in my old house. My brother had bought it from my mom.

It's decorated different but its the same house.

I took the kids out to dinner, struggled through homework and finally needed to lay down.

It didn't matter where, but the kids wanted me to sleep in my sister-in-law's room.

I cannot tell you how it felt laying there. It had been years.

It was my parents room at one time and visions of my late father laying on the bed watching football came rushing back. Gone.

Then I imagined my brother lying where he used to in this very same room. Gone.

Now his kids jump in bed with me and want  to talk about their dad because I am one of the closest things left to him and they need to talk about him.

We do.

We also talk about this new wonderful man who loves my sister-in-law and them, and his kids who are now officially their step-brother and sister.

It has come to my attention that my ex, Levi — the man that's been crying broke for three years — now has his eight-year-old daughter living with him in Los Angeles.

Apparently, his first ex-wife will be moving to the West Coast in a few months (family reunion?) and she thought it best that her daughter starts the school year there.

When my friend (and former fling) Rex first told me about this, I was pissed. I mean, I was really in a rage.

How dare he take care of one child and totally disregard the other?! How dare he cry poverty whilst bringing his daughter on trips to Disneyland? And what about the rest of them? Do any of these people have a conscience?

I was so pissed off, I almost picked up the phone and let him have it.

It was then that I realized what I was doing. Getting myself all worked up over something that really, I saw coming a year ago. I'm not one bit surprised by this.

So what's my deal? Am I angry for Adrian or am I angry for me? I'm guess a little bit of both. But taking the time to realize, and not react, was a huge step for me and one that I am very proud of.

I calmed down, rationalized that this latest act of his doesn't affect our lives at all, it's just more of the same.

And furthermore, I think it's great that Levi is willing to support and love one of his children; it's the least that he can do, right?

Next month, it will be a year since Levi has seen our son. He came to New York last October for court and spent about an hour with us. Of his three-week visit. This year, Levi has been in New York twice — that I know of — and hasn't bothered to visit with Adrian once.

I used to partially believe him when he claimed it was the distance (I'm on the East Coast and Levi's on the West) that kept him from Adrian; or rather, I preferred to believe that. But now, it's obvious that it is Levi that is keeping Levi away from Adrian.

He has never bought him a toy, a T-shirt, a diaper. He has never called to ask how he is. Didn't come to see Adrian when he was in the hospital. He didn't send him so much as a birthday card last year, and I can't imagine that he'll send him one this year.

Everywhere I go, I am constantly reminded of fathers. The boy on his dad's shoulders, the little girl playing in the pool squealing "Daddy," the billboard that I see every day on my way to work that asks, "Have you been a father today?"

Lucky for us, my son has a lot of positive male role models in his life. Most importantly, my uncle has really stepped up and filled both the grandfather and father role with Adrian. Because of this, I am sure that Adrian will be OK, despite Levi's behavior.

However, what really concerns me is how absolutely normal this type of behavior is. This men-abandoning-their-children phenomenon. My story, Adrian's story, is shocking, yet, nobody is shocked by iy. There are a half a dozen stories just like mine, living on my street alone.

People say that relationships require compromise. Well, punch line and drum roll please. How's this for ironic: Being divorced requires compromise as well.

That was one of the most challenging adjustments I had to make.

Divorce means that everyone has to make some sort of sacrifice: There won't be enough money, room, or time. When there are children involved, it's hard not to go a little nuts every day.

There's a constant reminder of adjustments that don't seem to rack up points in your favor. In fact, everybody feels pissed.

The kids are back from Fire Island. I've meditated and therapized myself throughout the summer. I'm calm, at peace, and ready to cultivate an attitude of gratitude.

Can you hear the tinkle of ancient Tibetan bells?

Amazing how easy it is to feel calm on a retreat, or at a health spa, or in the simple act of meditation. But taking this thoughtful way of life back to the real world, when everyone's trying to get out the door for school, is another thing.

And when it gets to compromise, it's very hard to cultivate a sense of peace. Why can't we blame someone else, or feel sorry for ourselves?

But chasing thoughts in that direction is bound to lead to an attitude explosion that does more damage than good.

So, after every mountaintop experience, I prepare myself for the inevitable adjustment back into the real world. My goal is to breathe myself into a state of acceptance.

I am truly as happy as a clam in my kitchen, where the air is thick with smoke as I whip up my favorite recipes. Feeding the kids is one of my simplest and most direct acts of love.

Except what happens when one of the kids is a no-show? When the cell phone plan doesn't work, and a child chooses to bunk down at Dad's house?

Should moms just accept the fact that teens roam around, and be thankful when they turn up at the dinner table three nights a week?

Apparently, my ex, Levi, caught wind of my lunch date with his sister, Erica. He called last night, said he wanted to have a "civil conversation." (I really must remember to send the man a dictionary with the word "civil" highlighted.)

Then he rambled on and on about how he "isn't going to do anything for Adrian just yet" and how he will "never go through me to have a relationship with Adrian, that he must wait until Adrian is old enough to formulate a relationship with him himself." Same old, same old.

Then he switched gears and told me that he is going to "come take him from me." More of the same. Listening to him now, I can't believe that I ever got myself so upset over his bullshit.

This time I simply told him, "Thank you for the update" and added, "It was nice catching up with you." Done.

Then I met Erica in the city for lunch yesterday. We met at the cafe outside of the zoo, ate, and then wandered around the animal exhibits. She tried to engage Adrian a few times, but he was way more interested in the monkeys and sea lions than in her.

It was only at the end of our day that she brought up Levi, and...their mother. (I still can't decide which one of them I loathe more.) Apparently, the mom wants to see Adrian but she doesn't want to see me. Levi has told his family that he is okay with them "filling in for him" — holding a place for him, until he is ready to be a parent. I told her that it wasn't the right time to talk about it.

But seriously, what can I do but shake my head in disbelief at the utter dysfunction that is their family?

After all of this back and forth nonsense with my ex's family, I've made a lunch date with Erica, Levi's sister. I came to this decision when I was discussing the dilemma with my best friend. She has dealt with a similar situation with her ex-in-laws, so she is my "go to" girl on these issues.

She told me that she had decided to embrace the ex-in-laws and, "treat them the way I would have liked them to treat me," and that it had really worked out well for her.

Heck, all of this arguing isn't working — so I figured, why not give it a try.

Besides, Erica isn't as bad as the rest of them. In fact, she's an absolute dream compared to the rest of them.

I decided that it would be best if we have a quick bite to eat in the park (as Adrian is somewhat of a monster in restaurants), and afterwards go take a walk through the Central Park Zoo.

Adrian, like all kids, loves the zoo. He runs around and says "hi" to everyone and everything. Like, "Hi, monkey!" and "Hi, man." It's absolutely adorable.  With that kind of distraction I don't think that there is any way that Erica and I can get into an argument.

Of course then I have all of these paranoid notions that she will see how perfect, cute, handsome, charming, and just absolutely amazing my son is and try to take him. To that my mom says, "You've got to stop thinking that everybody wants to steal your baby. Nobody in their right mind would steal a child." And she's right.

But we are talking about Levis' family here, remember?