How to Build a Mafia


It Takes a Village

At the bottom of my 20-something page document, each branding my “AOZ” initials, a few full signatures and a whole lot of dates, came a separation. I, being of married body, became one in singular form again.


With that, I also “divorced” a set of parents, a sister and brother-in-law and other assorted family and friends from the ex-husband’s side. As an editor’s note I’d like to cover my rear end here and point out that these people are not “divorced” from my children, but rather play actives roles in their lives. Whew. Glad that’s covered. Hi, Judge From the Future.


As a mom, you stop and think “well…. crap” because dude? You just cut your available hands, open arms and general “village” by 50%. So be it my surprise as less than a year later I’m trying to figure out how my family became so damn large.


Divorce is one of those life things that allows the fat to rise to the top. You skim it off and keep on, as we all know. But that delicious stuff just below the surface is what reaches out with open arms. Those are the people that stop by more often, invite you to a play-date or text you to see if you just need an open ear.


Whereas I lost several sets of hands, the ones around me grew stronger. Eventually, my little “family” began to grow. My best friend took in a boyfriend (one with a young child), a whole large set of siblings, some parents and a gackle of friends and extended family.


It appears my “halved” family now has me in some sort of Italian mafia-esque scenario in which I can’t recall all of the birthdays, Christmas lists look insane, and there are any number of back-ups should I need to work late.


Somehow or another, this single mother now has countless bodies to be there for the tv guy, weekend gatherings and overlapping activities.


That’s right – divorce made my family larger.
Much larger.


And I sit back and ponder sometimes “where the hell did all of these people come from?”

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