Moving a child out of state is usually a very emotional decision. There may be many good reasons for relocation – a new job, a desire to be closer to family, or even the need to make a fresh start. However, if you are the custodial parent and want to move with your child out of state, your first step needs to be to consult with a child custody lawyer to ensure you obtain the court’s permission to do so. One of the first things your child custody attorney will tell you is: do NOT move out of state without
During days of hiking in the wilderness with her son, Susan made discoveries about her child, her former spouse, and the challenges of any great journey. She reflects on her lessons in this three part series. I go for months without seeing my children. One in New York, one in California, me in the middle and all of us with careers. When we say goodbye after spending time together, I try not to think about how long it will be before we see one another again, face to face. Of all of the challenging issues in the world of divorce
She carefully leaned into the microphone, her voice vulnerable with anticipation. Separated from her siblings, in and out of countless schools, she shared how she was packed up without warning and taken to a stranger’s house. How the second home, the one that followed the emergency one, was not a refuge but a haven for abuse. How she didn’t know if she would ever have a relationship with either of her parents again. As I examined her tiny frame and dark eyes I couldn’t discern Angel’s age. She spoke of years of being of repeatedly losing the few new friends
She is tough as nails. Oftentimes she is in my office wearing a leather jacket and when talking her deep voice reveals a sharp wit and quick intellect. She has short stylish spiked hair. I assume that she intimidates a large percentage of people who cross her path. As I prepared her for what her trial experience may be, I wondered how she may come across in court – this tough as nails mom. I was positive that even if I had suggested her wearing an appliqué sweatshirt with puffy kittens on it to soften her appearance, she would not
“We have to ask our client if she has 100 mice in her house.” My paralegal, Lori, said matter-of-factly as my mouth dropped open a bit, “What?” I uttered in my normal you-have-to-be-kidding-me voice. “Opposing counsel called today and was informed by her client (the soon to be ex-spouse of our client) that their six year old daughter had reported to him on the night prior that there were 100 mice in her mom’s house. So some dollars were spent on legal fees confirming that in fact, my client did not have 100 mice in her house. Advice that Lori
“Mom?” I turned around and saw the sick look on my almost nine-year olds face. “Max is in the bag.” We were packing for a trip to the pool and I grabbed an old bag out of my closet, tossed it on the bed, and absent-mindedly told her to put the towels in it. Max is our Christmas elf. You know the one – the one with creepy eyes that follow you wherever you move and works magic for 24 days in December under the guise that he is reporting any bad behavior to Santa Claus. Well, he was in
The lump in my throat hardens as I watch them walk away. They are walking away into vacation for two weeks without me. I resist the overwhelming urge to run after them, to buy a plane ticket to join them, to start sobbing in front of strangers. I pretend not to count the minutes they are in-flight and I nonchalantly check my phone every 30 seconds until the safe arrival message is received. Fortunately, my children are going off to visit my parents for 1 week and then will travel again to visit their dad’s parents for 1 week. They
I didn’t bother correcting him when he mentioned that we were married for 12 years. After all, it had been 35 years since we met and fell in love. I didn’t feel the need to make him wrong for being off by a year. Here we were together again. My children’s father and I had flown from Nebraska to New York to celebrate our firstborn’s completion of grad school at NYU. Benjamin had gently negotiated that his brother and I would arrive a few days prior to the ceremony, his father staying a few days after. In the middle were
Have you ever been amazed when someone remembers a handful of words you once spoke in the distant past? Trina and I recently found ourselves catching up on each other’s lives. My Benjamin and her Ricky were classmates, soccer teammates, and playmates. Our sons had kept their friendship into adulthood, but it had been years since I’d had a chance to really talk to Trina. After boasting about boys and catching up on careers, the conversation wandered toward my former husband. “I remember when I first heard about your divorce,” Trina said. “I was shocked.” I unconsciously held my breath.
My children lost a lot due to my divorce. They lost dreams. They lost having one place to call home. They lost the luxury of not having to explain. Despite a good co-parenting relationship between their dad and me, the tears and rage that can accompany divorce did not escape my children. The phone call with the tiny voice saying, “I just want to be with you.” The bedroom door kicked in by my twelve year old. Cuttingly cruel words coming out of your own child’s mouth because he knows your wounds well. I wish I could have spared them.