Okay, that last one was a quick post. When I wrote last weekend I was still in the midst of the family frenzy that is the holidays. No time to think, only DO!

Turns out Thanksgiving weekend was a great time despite the awkward moments and challenges endemic to the family only a year or two into divorce. 

Of course, the divorce in my family is my mother and father's divorce. And if this past holiday is a litmus test, it seems we're all still okay despite them deciding to tear the family apart. (Okay, I'm being dramatic. I've admitted I'm glad they split — they should have years ago.)

I need to take heed that good times didn't end when my parents divorced, for the holidays inevitably invite a downward spiral in my journey as a contemplator. There's nothing worse during the holidays for someone considering separation — it's the worst time to be caught between staying and leaving.

Twinkling tree lights, eggnog, and brass carols can remind me of childhood, of love, of warmth. But when you think it might be your last holiday with this particular mate in this particular home where you've put such a good faith effort into loving and celebrating, it's nothing if not bittersweet.

So one moment you're sad, but the next you're putting on a good face and trying — REALLY TRYING! — to enjoy the season. For meaningful connection this holiday season just might be the cement that turns your flimsy relationship into a rock-steady marriage ready to support growth and kids and a whole generation's worth of holidays.

It's my dream: A big family full of kids of all ages romping about the house as turkey dinner cooks, later coming home from college with their mates, and eventually bringing home children of their own.

No kids yet, so I'm not sure how I'm going to get there.  

One of the things that pulled my husband and me apart was his fascination and obsession with online video games. These were the games where he could socialize with other people and spend seven or eight hours a night running around in his alternate reality, dueling monsters and hooking up with female avatars. 

When I tried to leave the marriage he decided — on his own — to stop playing video games altogether. He sold his gaming systems and uninstalled all the games off his computer. That was months ago, and although I'm pretty sure he's played some video games at friends' houses, as far as I know, he didn't play any games at home.

The other night we were having a conversation and got on the subject of video games. He said he missed the games and if given a chance he wouldn't play them as vigorously as before. I said that he's an adult, and he needs to make the decision of whether he would ever play again. I told him that he had made the decision to stop altogether, so ultimately it's up to him.

Lo and behold, a couple of days later he's loading video games onto the computer.

I'm terrified. One of the huge steps my husband took in an attempt to earn my trust back was to stop playing video games. Has he turned back to video games since I'm still not all lovey-dovey with him, or does he think that me telling him that he's an adult and can make his own decisions is actually a veiled endorsement of video games?

I'm bracing myself because if he falls back into the old habits of caring more about a stinking video game than he does about his real life then I don't think I can stick around for a second round.

I watched him play for a few minutes today and had to leave the room because I felt like I was going to scream. Or cry. Or both. 

Warning: Gushing ahead. Forgive me in advance for the gooey prose you are about to read, but I'm still basking in the afterglow of Thanksgiving gratitude and the truth is, every once in a while I can't help myself. All the sappiness builds up in me and just I have to go Hallmark.

Why fight it, I say.

I have so much gratitude itching inside me right now it's going to spill right over into the next post. I can feel it.

Plus, it's just plain nice to break from whining about the don't have's, and the things I've given up and monotony of struggle. Blah, blah, blah, blahty-blah.

This is what I do have:

I have two of the coolest kids anywhere for daughters and I have time with them everyday. Even when I don't really want it.

I have a husband who takes them out of the house for hours every chance he gets because he likes hanging with them. And also because he understands now the finer points of maintaining my mental health.

I have two bathrooms. Let me say that again. I have two bathrooms with two toilets that flush. No waiting.

I have central heat and a lovely fir-tree view out my office windows. (And I have an office.) 

I have two healthy parents who I will never understand, but whom I know support me unconditionally even when they think my decisions are crazy-insane.

I have friendships with roots that run so deep and roots grown so inextricably through each other that those friends have become my family.

I have access to archive.org and streaming audio of almost every Grateful Dead show ever played. And I had the good fortune to attend 30-some of those shows, in varying states of consciousness, before Jerry Garcia died.

I have my family living all in one house, healthy, in a way that is possible only because I once left.

All that has transpired among my family this holiday takes longer to digest than even the biggest turkey holiday.

My mother and step-father (still getting used to calling this stranger any sort of father) swept through town town in a fit of self-importance, leaving behing gifts from their recent Mexican holiday.

The dishes were barely dry and it was time for a seven-hour drive to upstate NY where my sister and I removed my father's car from his possession for his own safety (dementia has robbed him of his driving skills). We lied and said we accidentally crashed it but actually put it into storage. 

Holidays...what fun. But who had my back through all the bickering and tears? Rob. Gotta hand it to that guy. He's a good one to have aroun.

Friday morning and I'm giving thanks for Turkey Day with our best friends yesterday. Sam and I have lived a thousand miles or more from our families of origin for the last 14 Thanksgivings.

Getting back to our folks — especially now that it requires four tickets — is a once-every-few-years event. Out in Portland, where most of our closest friends are in the same gravy boat, we've done the traditional feast together sans the annual family drama almost every year.

Sometimes I miss my family, mourn the chance to have my kids hang out with their cousins, but when it comes right down to it, my favorite way to spend the holiday is right here with the extended family we've created.

And this year, our first year back together, it was nice to be on neutral ground. No moms or dads or in-laws for anyone to please. Where our kids may not have blood relatives, but they do have a circle of friends they've known since birth. And the same kind of familial love that goes with it.

Plus, we'll have enough of that next month.

Early morning I'm up before dawn, and up before the kids — trying to be up before them anyway. There bunked-up in the other room and their chatter is all holidays.

Roxie says, "And Hannukah, too, don't forget."

Lila says, "And Christmas is in Hannukah this year."

Then two little voices together: "And Grammy is coming!"

And I may not be excited about this with them, but I'm equally excited for them.

Some time ago I wrote about my disappointment over not being able to join my church's board of directors. I had been nominated by some people in the congregation but the pastor quietly removed my name from nominations because he knew about the marital problems. It hit me hard because I really wanted to join the board, and it ticked me off that my life was apparently such a mess that I couldn't be considered for the position. 

Fast forward to present day. I got a call from my pastor who told me that my name had come up again. He wanted to let the nomination go through, but he needed to know if I was ready. It was really a bizarre conversation.

Usually my pastor and I have a really easy rapport with each other but I could tell that he was uncomfortable. He started mumbling about how he wanted me on the board but people on the board have certain expectations, and while the church is not necessarily opposed to divorce I would be in the public eye.  I stopped him and said, "If you're asking if I'm going to divorce my husband anytime soon, the answer is no.  I can't guarantee you that I won't leave him in the near future, though." 

He accepted my answer and this Sunday I expect to be confirmed onto the board. 

I'm really pleased that I finally made it onto the board, but here is the thing: My pastor knows that my husband and I are on shaky ground. Heck, we've been trying to coordinate schedules for the past few months so that the three of us can get together for some marital counseling.

I don't really get why he would ask me a question that he kind of already knows the answer to. Maybe it was a formality, or maybe it was a veiled warning, something along the lines of "If you leave your husband, you're off the board." Trust me, though...if I leave my husband I think the church board will be the least of my problems.

For some reason, Rob is less needy lately. When he isn't in constant monologue trying to describe every experience he had while we were apart during the day, I'm more curious about how he spends his time. I have questions for him and we can dialog. This works for me. I guess without Rob breathing down my neck, the time we do spend together seems more...pleasant!

Our trip to the meditation center was helpful — our program allowed us time together apart from the group, plus time apart from each other. We struck a nice balance.

Due to the quiet-hours rule and no television, we went to bed together at the same time — a big change in routine. At home Rob retires after 11 and I fall asleep on the couch. I usually wake around 1 or 2 and go to bed. That leaves no awake time in bed together. At Kripalu we stayed up comparing notes on the workshop and laughing about quirks of the other participants. I felt downright close to him! (I even let him spoon me as we fell asleep.) 

This closeness has come just in time for the stressful holidays. We're about to embark on a four-day family extravaganza covering 1200 miles, three families, and two turkey dinners. Into that mix throw a new step-father; a father with Alzhiemer's and a needy girlfriend; and a brother who says he's not going to show up, but just might, probably drunk, flask in hand. If there's a time I ever needed a partner, it's now. 

Thanksgiving week has all the wind knocked out of me. Could just be my reaction to going down, down, down the rabbit hole. The Holidays are here.

Only thing I know is the only thing I want to do is curl up under my big old comforter and sleep. It’s the lack of time that has me feeling so defeated. My kids don’t have school all week and we don’t have childcare, don’t have the money for the extra child care, I should say, so what happens? I don’t have time to work.

We are caught right smack in the center exactly what I feared getting back into this. I have no time to work because we can’t afford to cover the business hours I need so jobs are left unfinished leaving me feeling further defeated and my pay further behind, which adds up to less childcare that we can afford and fewer things completed. It goes on like this until I’m right where I am now.

One big miserable puddle of blah. And I blame it on the marriage, when actually I should blame it on me.

My reasoning, skewed as it may be, is that when we were apart a couple things were absolute: I had several days every week to work because the kids were with Sam and I had to make it work because the alternatives were homelessness and starvatation.

This week, I’m giving thanks for my two beautiful, healthy girls, and the ability I have to back up, reconsider, and try it again. But I'm also questioning how much of my current situation is a self-fulfilling prophecy and why I can't have the structure to make room for work in the same way I did when I was separated.

My husband wishes I were more sexual. Truth be told, his sexual appetite has always outpaced mine. He would have sex three times a day if he could, but I'm completely happy with a couple of times a week. Even before our marital issues starting affecting my performance in bed, I still didn't want to get intimate as often as he did.

Nowadays it takes quite a bit to get me in the mood. Strike one: I have back problems, and as my chiropractor so delicately put it I shouldn't do anything that involves "jerking up-and-down motions." Strike two: I'm usually pretty exhausted from the rigors of motherhood, working, and all the other fun stuff that comes with my role in life. Strike three: Yeah, this is gross, but my two pregnancies not only blessed me with two beautiful children, but also bestowed upon me some pretty serious hemorrhoids. When those bad boys flare up, getting me in the mood for sex is downright impossible. 

Okay, so now you probably know more about me than you care to. Sorry about that.

When my husband hasn't had sex in a couple of days he starts dropping hints and making sexual innuendoes in conversation. The other day I was heading out to the gym and I made the comment that I was in need of a good workout. He arches his eyebrow and says, "I can give you a good workout." I really don't like when he makes these types of comments in front of the kids, so I say, "What Daddy doesn't seem to realize is that sometimes Mommy can't hang from the chandelier and whoop it up." To this he sighs and responds, "Don't worry...I expect very little from you."

Ouch.

I already feel like a failure as a wife because I can't just find a way to be happy in this relationship. I thought I was at least being a good wife by hooking him up with some sex on a regular basis, but apparently I can't even get that right. 

One day I'm up, the next day I'm down. One day I'm indifferent about my marriage, and soon after I feel some hope. When I first started writing this blog, this was often the case. Now the see-saw effect is back.

Today is a hopeful day. Rob and I are just back from a meditation and yoga retreat where we truly enjoyed each other's company. I liked it when we withdrew to the safety of our room to share notes on the dharma talks and secret feelings about the sometimes overwhelmingly enthusiastic New Age devotees surrounding us.

We made our own little world within the little world of the center, and it was a bonding experience. There was giggling, and even a bit of cuddling. New territory. Or at least territory we haven't visited in some time.

That the focus of the retreat was lovingkindness meditation probably helped. (Duh.) The point of the weekend was to grow our capacity for mindfulness and compassion. If there are two ingredients more critical to the health of a relationship, I don't know what they are.

So let's see how we do. Rob and I have been practicing this meditation off and on for a few years, and it certainly has helped me open up to my father, a former "most difficult person" in my life. But to transform a marriage?

The see-saw effect may continue, but perhaps more often we'll tip in favor of compassion...leading to true forgiveness...and (dare I say) true intimacy?