What's In a Name?

"Names have power."  
Rick Riordan, The Lightning Thief

The future Mrs. Patterson

In less than a week, I will say vows binding me to The Fiancé as his wife.  I was so surprised when he asked me to marry him that I asked, aghast and surprised, "What are you DOING?" I gasped, even as he was down on bended knee with a beautiful ring held up.  We have had a long road, the two of us.  He's seen me at my very, very worst and still apparently thinks he should spend his life with me so I guess we're all good on that score.

When we are married next Saturday, I will take his name as my own.  I am thrilled to become Kelly Patterson but I'm finding myself practicing saying it:  "Kelly PATTERSON.  Kelly PAT-ter-son. Kelly Patterson."  It's kind of a nice Scotch-Irish name and I'm completely honored to take it on as my own.

It's a strange thing to change one's name at mid-life.  I've had a few names in my life.  My birth certificate had one.  Then it changed to another in childhood.  Then, I married The Ex-Husband and I took his name in my early twenties.  I kept it when we divorced because, well, I'd gotten accustomed to it and because I liked sharing a name with Things 1 and 2.  And I've built a career on the name Kelly Tilyard.   And if you Google it, well, I'm  the only one that shows up.  Not so with Kelly Patterson.  Will I get lost in the sea of Kelly Pattersons that have had the name so much longer than I?  Will I be compared?  Are THOSE Kelly Pattersons SO MUCH COOLER than me? 

It wasn't incredibly difficult to become Kelly Tilyard.  I didn't have many things to change.  My social security number and my driver's license were the biggies.  Now, I find that I am overwhelmed with the VAST list of things I will have to convert to my new name.  I imagine I'll get around to all of it within the next, say, five years.  I'm really on top of things like that.  (No, no I'm not.)

I never liked being called Mrs. Tilyard back in the day, but I find that I am looking forward to being called Mrs. Patterson.  As a young woman, I was highly irritated that someone would identify me only as my husband's wife.  "I have my OWN IDENTITY," I scoffed.  I didn't like to open mail addressed formally to Mr. and Mrs. Tilyard.  It didn't help that, as a newly married couple, I was a Navy Wife.  You can't do ANYTHING as a military wife without your husband's permission and/or social security number.  I couldn't get a military ID without him signing for it.  It chafed and I balked.  I had my OWN life, thankyouverymuch.  I've softened in the last ten years and I think I know what it means to become a wife a bit better than I did when I was much younger. 

I am not chattel but I am a partner.  And I am honored to take on my new husband's name.

I'm looking forward to being a life partner with Mr. Patterson.  I like building dreams with him and I'm excited about the Great Adventures we're already planning.  He's the yang to my yin.  The black to my white.  The pepper to my salt.  The Mr. to my Mrs. 

And I'll begin to get used to being Kelly Patterson.  (Do you hear how that just rolls off the tongue?  Kelly Patterson.  Dreamy.)

What a Great Adventure this marriage will be all on its own.  I do.  And I will.  Always. #PathtoPatterson

The Courage to Begin Again

“And suddenly you know: It's time to start something new and trust the magic of beginnings.”
― Meister Eckhart

If you've read this blog at all, you must know how passionate I am about the reality that we get this ONE chance.  We get this ONE life. That's all we have. 

You better lose yourself in the music, the moment
You own it, you better never let it go
You only get one shot, do not miss your chance to blow
This opportunity comes once in a lifetime

                                   -Eminem, Lose Yourself

When I got married a long time ago, I was young.  I was 24, fresh out of college and completely unprepared for any kind of real life.  I hadn't even thought at all about what I wanted from myself and my own life, let alone any idea about what a marriage was supposed to look and feel like.  My idea of marriage came from the twisted dysfunction I had seen growing up merged with the romantic comedies that I consumed ravenously, starry-eyed and rapt over the perfectly-worded confessions of the male lead's heart.

I was broken when I married so long ago.  I didn't even know how broken I was until I tried to blend my life with someone else.  I don't think that poor guy knew what he was in for.  I was a Good Time Girl.  I liked my drinks.  I liked my fun.  And I liked to run away from anything and everything that looked like it might be hard.  I steeped myself in my own pain.  And when I got sad?  I got really sad.  And I got all wrapped up in my own crap.  Then I wasn't so much fun.

The truth is this:  I was young.  I was selfish.  And I had no idea what it meant to be a partner.

Fast forward a decade plus a few years and I found myself divorced.  Still sad.  Still broken.  And I decided to go on a journey to figure out what was wrong with me.  And I did the hard work to fix it.  It sucked.  It was painful.  I was whiny and almost impossible to deal with and I made some poor decisions along the way.   Fortunately, I have some very patient friends who spent many long hours listening to me whine and cry (hey, thanks again for all that!).  I figured out how to be happy.  

I found love.  Again.  But different.  I was different.  I AM different.  A lot less young.  And a lot less selfish.  And I have a pretty good idea of what it takes to be a partner.  And I now know what I need in a partner.  It all sounds like Very Real Adult Grown-Up Stuff.

The Boyfriend became The Fiancé during our trip to Italy! 

What?

We're not perfect, This Guy and I.  We are complete opposites in almost every sense of the word right down to our Myers Briggs personality types.  I am ENFP.  He is...not.  We have to really hash some things out from time to time.  The hashing can be hard...and it can be painful.  And it makes me want to run away sometimes (old patterns die hard...really hard). But, slowly, I become less afraid of the hashing because I know, in the end, our understanding makes us stronger.  We have decided to begin again. Together.  That's a pretty scary undertaking for two scarred-up people.

It takes a lot of strength, humor and bravery to start over by blending two families into one.   But he has strong hands.  And a good heart.  And I have a big smile.  And we both have the ability to laugh at ourselves (mostly at me), a lot of faith, a ton of love, and a much better understanding of how to make this thing called marriage work.  

We'll do the work.  And we'll begin again.  Two as one.  Deep breath.

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Coddling Hurts Everyone (Or, How I Realized I Coddle My Sons and the Steps I'm Taking to Fight It)

“I believe that what we become depends on what our fathers teach us at odd moments, when they aren't trying to teach us. We are formed by little scraps of wisdom.”
― Umberto Eco

Last night, after dinner, I did something I have never done before:  I left Thing 1 and Thing 2 in the kitchen to clean up while I retired to the living room to read.

I know, I know.  The above doesn't sound like something that should be shocking.  Things 1 and 2 are 13 and 11, respectively, and have been cleaning up (somewhat) after themselves for years.  But I have NEVER EVER left them in the kitchen to clean up BY THEMSELVES after dinner.  I have HELPED them.  I have COACHED them.  I have lingered on, watching while they rinsed each dish and I have showed them how to load the dishwasher.  I have offered to clean the pots and pans and I have gently offered helpful household tips while they have cleaned.  But I have never EVER never ever NEVER left them alone in the kitchen to clean up after dinner.

It. Was. Fabulous.

Did they do it as I would have done it?  No, not really.  Did they do a great job?  Yes.  And no.  Did they complain?  Not once.

The whole affair was entirely shocking.  And, unbeknownst to them, has completely changed the way we do business around the Manor.

In many respects, I am actually a terrible parent.  I sometimes encourage dessert before dinner; I very often choose that we read over chores; instead of shuttling them to lessons or other useful pursuits, I tend to suggest that we have Great Adventures or Laze The Day Away.  And, in so doing, I have coddled them and, I fear, probably ruined them for good.

But, no more!!  The coddling ended last night when I realized that, seemingly overnight, they have become fully capable human beings.  I have to admit that I take the whole Divorced Parent thing a bit too far at times.  Because I am Divorced, I am the only Functional Adult in the household.  And, because it's not THEIR fault that I am Divorced, I tend to DO more things for them than I think I would in a Real Family environment.  (The capitals are all mine and always included in my thoughts.  Welcome to my head.)  I pick up their glasses and plates from the living room.  I do all the cooking and most of the cleaning.  I mow the lawn and pick up the animal feces from the backyard.  I do all the dusting and most of the vacuuming and sweeping.  I do the laundry.  I used to fold it AND put it away but in the last year I've been putting it on their beds for them to put away.

I just feel like since I ruined their lives by getting a divorce, the very LEAST I can do is be their servant for life.

And that's the crux of it.  I do too much because I'm trying to make up for interrupting what MIGHT have been an idyllic childhood by thrusting Divorce into their lives.  Because they have to shuttle back and forth between Mom's house and Dad's house, I try to somehow make up for that pain and inconvenience by letting them skate by with very little effort.

But that's not going to make them very good human beings, is it?

I don't know that I'll EVER be guilt-free about being Divorced.  I don't know that I'll ever truly forgive myself for inflicting that pain on my kids.  At some point, when they're older, I hope they'll understand that being Divorced actually helped their mom Get Healthy.  And I hope they can forgive me.

But, until that day, I think they'll be doing a lot more dishes.

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Controlling the World Isn't All It's Cracked Up To Be

“The best way to navigate through life is to give up all of our controls.”
― Gerald G. Jampolsky

I'm kind of a control freak.  I'm not a control freak in the traditional sense.  I don't obsess about cleanliness and I don't really care if my schedule changes at the last minute and plans are basically a loose guideline as far as I'm concerned.  But, boy, I REALLY want people to DO WHAT I WANT THEM TO DO.  

This past school year, I have participated in a Free Your Mind And Lose Control exercise.  It's been wildly successful.  The program went something like this:

• Thing 2 had a three-day field trip to Washington, D.C.
• Since I went with Thing 1 on HIS three-day field trip a couple of years ago, I thought it would be nice if My Ex-Husband took Thing 2 this year.
• Thing 2, since he's exceptionally diplomatic, didn't want his dad to feel "left out" and so agreed that his father should "get to go" on the extended field trip.  (Oh, the gloriously delicious GLEE I felt when this decision was made because I have STORIES about the DC field trip.  Another time, perhaps?)
• Typically, I manage all forms and communication with teachers.
• For this ONE thing, I decided to LET IT GO.  A three-day field trip and all of its meetings and forms and deadlines and schedules is a lot to manage.  And here, I would have just been the middle-man, passing along information to the ultimately responsible party.  So, I decided that I would not handle ONE SINGLE THING for this field trip and I just gave it, as a package deal, to my Ex-Husband.
• Panic ensued.  

Oh, don't for one second think that the Ex-Husband was in a panic state about this.  He's like a magical being when it comes to Things Working Out.  Seriously, he lives this amazingly charmed life (that, if I'm being honest, I am TERRIBLY envious of!).  Stuff just always works out for this guy.

Side story:  We both waited tables at the same restaurant in college.  Actually, he ended up getting the job to begin with because he drove me to the restaurant to apply and while he was just STANDING there, the manager looked over at him and said, "Hey, are you looking for work?"  He kinda shrugged and ended up walking out with a job.  Many months went by and, one day, he decided that he didn't really FEEL like going in for his shift...ever again.  So, he called (mind you, a mere 30 minutes prior to the beginning of a shift) and said "Yeah, I'm not really coming in to work tonight.  Or ever, really."  I think they practically apologized to him for the inconvenience and, several weeks later, needed some help on a shift.  I was there slaving away (probably on a double because I was nothing if not an extremely poor collegiate martyr) and they asked "Hey, do you think HE might like to come in for a shift?"  I paused and looked at the manager, mouth agape.  "SERIOUSLY?  He QUIT.  With NO NOTICE.  And you want him to COME IN FOR A SHIFT?  Shouldn't you HATE him?"  But they didn't.  They still loved him.  Because he's MAGIC.  

OK, back to the control thing.

So, I didn't sign a single form for this field trip and I didn't attend a single meeting.  I don't even KNOW if the Ex-Husband attended any meetings about the field trip. I literally had NO CLUE what was going on.  They even changed the DATES and I didn't realize it for MONTHS.

But it was the healthiest thing I've ever done.  For me.  AND for the Ex-Husband.  He is not an idiot.  As a matter of fact, he is FAR more intelligent than I am.  He is completely capable of handling things on his own.  But because I have control issues (over people), I really always handled everything to do with school, with doctors, and with the kids in general.  I have now realized, though, that he NEEDS to handle some of this stuff in order to be fully engaged as a father. 

Once again, it's NOT ALL ABOUT ME.

The field trip worked out just fine.  Even though they had MY name on the chaperone list up until the day before the trip (why on EARTH?), he showed up and he is currently doing his duty in D.C. with his son.  I think they're having a fine time from the text updates I've received.  It all worked out. Naturally.  With no help from me.  I simply don't need to control the world.

I've relaxed about a lot of things lately.  Thing 1 is fully responsible for his school work.  It's HIS life, not mine.  If he wants to screw around and not turn in his homework...well, that's not MY FAULT.  He suffers the consequences of his behavior (no technology! the horror!) because I'm NOT going keep reminding him to turn in his work.  I'm not going to stress out about his grades because it's HIS life and he will ultimately need to step up...or step off...because he is the one who will be raking in minimum wage dollars at the local slop shop if he doesn't do the work.  Same goes with Thing 2.  I've been through school.  I don't need to re-live it.  REALLY.  I DO NOT need to re-live it.

I'm learning to let go.  I can't control the people around me.  And they don't need controlling.  Who am I to tell anyone how to live a life?  Life...just happens.   

Maybe I'll relax a little tonight with an adult beverage.  After all, I'm not a chaperone...

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My side of the bed

“I'm not sure if it's better to be alone but it's probably safer.” 

                                      --Eleanor Prescott

This morning, I woke up on the other side of the bed.

You might wonder why this is at all important.  I'm single, after all, and I have the full run of my bed.  I can sleep on one side, on the other, in the middle or upside down for all anyone else cares.  But for the past 18 years (and, if I were honest, probably a little longer than that), I have slept soundly on the left side of the bed.

When I was married, there was always the space for my husband reserved, whether he was in town or out.  I've been (mostly happily) separated and then divorced for almost five years and, for all that time, I have continued to sleep on the left side of the bed.

I'm sure there's a psychology that goes along with it.  People might say that I'm still reserving that spot for my "soul mate" or they might say that I miss the companionship of a marriage (I do, sometimes) or they could speculate that I'm just not content to be on my own (I am, for the most part).  I have often looked at my bed and sighed exasperatedly because I have this wide open space that I'm simply not using.  I may as well buy a COT.  But I still always get in on the left, even though it's farther from my bathroom and, until last night, I STAY on the left all night.

Last night, like most nights, I read until exhaustion.  Sparky, my deliciously cuddly labradoodle, was asleep on the floor.  Usually he joins me in the bed (he is required to sleep on TOP of the covers though because I loathe black fur on my white sheets) but last night I suppose it was just too warm and he opted for the floor.

Then, because I am a creature of habit in spite of all of my crazy antics, I turned on the tube with the sleep timer set for 10 minutes and then I piled up all my pillows near the center of the headboard.  And that's all I remember until I woke up this morning to "Dancing Queen."  You can dance, you can jive, having the time of your life... I rolled over to hit the snooze and patted Sparky instead WHO WAS LYING ON THE LEFT SIDE OF THE BED.  I opened one bleary eye and lifted my head, confused.  Why was Sparky on the left side?  WHERE was the alarm coming from?  Was I on the FLOOR?  I realized how far away the alarm was and then patted the right side of the bed and hit air.  Not only was I on the RIGHT side of the bed but I was ALL THE WAY on the right side.  I managed to crawl across the bed and hit the snooze before ABBA told me again how I could dance and collapsed in a heap on top of Sparky.  As he licked my face in morning greeting, I raised my fists in the air in victory:  I am finally, truly a single woman!

After being connected with someone in marriage, it's tough to shake that feeling that you're MISSING something (or, rather, some ONE) in your life.  I have had more than one friend who separated after me and have already remarried or have started shacking up.  I have missed having someone on that right side of the bed and someone to have a glass of wine with me on the deck before bed.  But last night was peaceful.   I feel content now more often than not when it's just me and Sparky and I enjoy my little single person rituals.  And, apparently, I can enjoy sleeping in ALL of my bed now.

I decided to think about all the things I love about being single:

1. When I wake up in the middle of the night, I don't have to worry about waking anyone else up.  I can go downstairs and grab a glass of chocolate milk, turn on a movie and dance.  When the kids are with their dad, I can make a 3 a.m. trip to Wal-Mart.  I can take a walk.  I can laugh out loud.  It's a glorious freedom to know that you can live OUT LOUD at 3 in the morning.  
2. I can eat cereal for dinner.  I don't have to prepare a meal.  If I want, I can skip dinner and have a glass of wine (or two) instead.  I don't have to please anyone else but me (there's that selfish thing again!).
3. I can read instead of clean the house.  The boys could care less if the house is tidy.  The only one who gives a rat's patootie is me.  So, if that new Harlan Coben mystery is calling my name, I can sit on the couch in my jammies ALL DAY LONG and finish the book without anyone complaining or thinking I'm lazy.  I can always clean at 3 a.m.
4. I can go (just go) at any time.  Sometimes, I like to jump in the car and drive...north.  Or south.  Or whichever direction the wind is blowing.  I don't have to answer to anyone anymore, so I can just hop in the car and drive in whatever direction I choose.  I have stumbled onto some wonderful moments and places this way.  
5. I get to choose what's on TV.  It's how I was able to watch almost all three seasons of Downton Abbey in only two weekends.  :)  It's how I can watch Marley and Me and sob out loud.  I haven't watched a single sporting event in almost five years.  

Would I like a partner in my life?  Sure, I would.  But I don't have one right now.  Sure, the On-Again is there sometimes, but he has his own life and I just don't know how or if that will work out.

So I'm going to continue to enjoy and grow in my Single Status...and enjoy the RIGHT side of my bed!

Is "better late than never" REALLY OK?

"People count the faults of those who keep them waiting."

                                                                    -Proverb

My ex-husband was two hours late to our first date.  It is either a testament to how cute he was or how lowly I thought of myself that I actually did go out with him when he arrived two hours after the designated time (after multiple prompting phone calls from yours truly).

To truly grasp how much I LOATHE being late, we have to look back at my childhood.  My mother was ALWAYS 30 minutes early.  If we were 15 minutes early, she acted like we were LATE.  I did despise always being the first one to events but I was accustomed to getting the good seats and I learned to enjoy people watching as I waited for whatever activity to begin.  She taught me that it is, quite simply, RUDE to be late.

So, he was late to our first date.  He was late consistently to...EVERYTHING.  He would show up to a 50-minute class 30 minutes late (if he bothered to show up at all).  He joined the Navy at one point (the reasons WHY are not my story to tell, so I will refrain) and I was encouraged after six years in the Navy that PERHAPS things would improve.

They didn't.

For personal things, he continued to be late...anywhere from 30 minutes to two hours would go by with events and life going by while we waited for My Ex-Husband (OK, he was My Husband at that point).

Over time, it got ugly.  I would cry and explain to him how DIMINISHED it made me feel that he didn't care enough about me to just pay attention and be ON TIME.  I wasn't even asking for EARLY.  I was actually only asking for him to maybe only be TEN minutes late as opposed to 30.

I realize now that he wasn't being disrespectful to me.  He just honestly didn't CONSIDER time or me as a factor.  He did what he had to do when he had to do it and really just didn't think about the fact that people might be waiting for him.  It wasn't spiteful at all. It's just WHO HE IS.

So today, I let him handle a Big Important Event for Thing 2.  I couldn't be there and I just had to Let It Go. 

Here's how THAT went:

He's STILL late.  And, as you can see from the above, he doesn't consider 20 minutes to be late AT ALL...even when an entire TEAM was held up waiting for him.  He got there 30 minutes late and, from the way he sees it, everything works out fine.  But he doesn't consider at all the STRESS that other people feel when he puts this burden on them. 

I'm not married to him anymore so it doesn't really affect me on a daily basis.  But it DOES affect my kids.  And there is absolutely NOTHING I can do about it except tell them that their dad just has a problem with time.  He's brilliant in all aspects except the one that deals with time and space.  They're going to have to live with it forever.

The On-Again Boyfriend does have to deal with some leftover issues I still have with time.  He is terribly punctual (how I LOVE him for that!) but if he ever DOES run late, I try really hard not to get all pissy with him.  He always has a reason (not an excuse) if he's late.  (He's not PERFECT, by any stretch, but he's not LATE.  That's another blog post altogether, though.)

My ex-husband (aka "Baby Daddy") knows that I judge him for being late.  He doesn't care any more than he did when we were married.  But now I can judge him from a distance and I usually forgive him immediately since I no longer have to hold a Marriage Grudge.  Things just seem to work out for him regardless so he'll probably never even learn a lesson.  Maybe there's no lesson to be learned.

Maybe I'm just a judging judger.
 
Addendum, Sunday April 7:  None of the above is meant to be harsh.  The Ex-Hubby knows he's late all the time.  It's something we joke about and something that he does (kinda) try to overcome.  I've had a couple of personal comments worrying about whether or not I crossed the line with this post.  I don't THINK I have and I hope I haven't.  I write about this stuff because, well, it HAPPENS to me.  I try to avoid telling stories that aren't mine to tell...and I try to be "kindly cutting," if that makes any sense.  So, Ex-Husband, if you're reading this, I hope I didn't hurt your feelings.  :) 

The competition worked out just fine for Thing 2 and his team.  Although they didn't progress to the World championships, they were proud of getting to the state level of competition. 

Life is good.  :)
 



   

My ex-husband is so lucky to have me

"You are the best ex-wife I've ever had.  Ironically enough, you were also the best wife I ever had."
                   - My ex-husband (who has only had one wife, so far)

My ex-husband is FUNNY.  I thought he was very funny before I married him.  While we were married, he became much less funny.  Now that we're divorced, I think he's hysterical again.  Apparently, we should have left well enough alone.

We get along surprisingly well for a divorced couple.  You hear a lot of stories about how one former spouse can't get out of the car when drop-offs occur or how you have to meet in some neutral location for kid exchanges (like it's some sort of seedy drug deal).  There are custody battles and arguments about child support.  Those things are all real and they are truly horrible for everyone involved, especially the kids who never really wanted their parents to be divorced in the first place.  But, in our case, we get along fabulously well. 

During our actual divorce we sat in the courtroom and waited alllllll day while couple after couple stood before the judge and requested an annihilation of their marriage ("annihilation" is SO much more fun than "dissolution").  We sat together (unlike most every couple there who typically sat on opposite ends of the courtroom) and, much like we did during the happy times in our marriage, judged the world.  We used to call it "sitting on the couch, judging the world," because it's SO EASY to do!  We mocked each marital defendant mercilessly, holding back our laughter as much as we possibly could while the court bailiff gave us the evil eye.

When it was finally our turn, the judge gave us each a measured look and said one of the most wonderful things that has probably ever been said in a courtroom full of miserable soon-to-be-divorced people:  "If you two get along outside this courtroom as well as you did today, then your children are going to be fine."  I got a little teary because, honestly, the one thing that I ever REALLY worry about is how this divorce affects my kids.  If my kids ever start talking about how crappy their childhoods have been, I'm going to tell them that a COURT OF LAW said they were going to be FINE.

So far, it has held true.  We agree on most things and we usually speak up if we have a problem (amazing what a little divorce can teach you).  We co-parent effectively, with each of us keeping the kids 50% of the time.  It's important to me that he be an active, involved parent and I'm pretty sure he feels the same way about me.  And, so far (knock on wood), our children are growing up to be some pretty terrific people:  balanced, even-tempered and happy, for the most part.  Even though I know that they would STILL, after all this time, prefer that their parents be together, I hope they are beginning to understand that the way it is makes the best solution for our family.

So, if you have an ex-husband (or if you're serious about making your current husband an ex...I'm KIDDING!), you can follow these simple steps to ensure you have a smooth relationship to co-parent your kids effectively:

1. Stop playing the role of the martyr.  You know, it's the same role you worked on while you were married.  You do all this work and you offer to do things he hasn't even ASKED you to do.  And then you complain to your friends about how much work you do.  It's easy.  And it's fun.  :)  Remember, though, now that you're divorced, he cares EVEN LESS about your self-sacrifice.  Stop doing that crap and put on your big girl panties.  If there's something you don't want to/can't do then don't do it and tell him why, nicely.
2. Keep your trash talk to yourself.  Don't tell people all about his flaws.  NEVER, EVER call him names, especially in front of your kids.  Stop blaming all your problems on him.  Be nice.  This is a great time to start learning to accept your ex-husband for all that he is AND all that he is not.  You don't have to live with him anymore and there must have been SOME reason you married him.  Find those reasons and focus on the positive.  
3. Keep lines of communication open.  You probably shut these down during your marriage.  Well, now it's time to let the words flow.  And let him know that you're open to hearing what he has to say.  If you have children together, you are still involved in THE MOST important roles of your lives.  And if you want to raise them well, you still have to be a team.

Now, I realize that there are many cases where the above simply won't work.  Maybe your ex is an alcoholic or a psychopath.  Maybe your ex simply abandoned your family (in which case you really don't have to worry about getting along!).  Maybe he isn't reasonable.

I'll offer this up, though, as a first step solution BEFORE you give up the fight:

TRY.  

Even if you don't think for a million years it will work, try it anyway.  Be nice.  And then be nice again.  And again.  You might be surprised.

Of course, he could still turn around and be a jerk.  But at least you know YOU haven't been one.  Which will make you an awesome martyr! Score!

How do you get along with your ex?  Am I just nuts?  Comments below are open!