My first assignment as a divorced mom

By Mindy

My 6-year-old amazed me last night with his memory of a conversation he'd had with a total stranger late at night at a crowded wedding reception last August.

We were talking about pull-ups and needing them for a while at night, and about how it's okay for his brother to need them sometimes and about the other kids we knew who wore them waaaay longer than either of them.

"Yeah, remember James, the guy we talked to at dinner in Chicago? He had a brother named Thomas, and he had a son who still wore pull-ups at night and he was six years old!" It took me a full minute to recall the conversation, but then I wasn't associating the names with Thomas the Tank Engine characters, which is really how he remembered the guys' names.

As I woke this morning, I tried to gather all of my pre-school memories, and I found that they were hazy and few. Most were from the house we lived in when my parents divorced, and one in particular was of a conversation I had with mom while she was untangling the chain to my locket. I was asking her how long they'd been married, and she answered quietly, "Eight years."

My eyes flew open. I didn't have a single memory that didn't tie back to the divorce or the places we talked about it or that were somehow associated with the new arrangement. Whenever I recalled an event, I did a mental calculation of how old we were, where everyone lived, and whether anyone was remarried yet. And then I realized: I didn't know any of the happy stories.

I didn't know about the times my parents had fun together, or silly things they'd done, or mistakes they'd made and worked out together, or whether they shopped together for furniture for that big house, or how they decided to live on a property with a horse paddock where someone else kept their horses.

I didn't know much about how they met or courted or spent their first married years in Germany during the Vietnam War. I didn't know if she could speak any German.

I have never seen a picture of my mom pregnant. I have one of them on their honeymoon in Majorca, and remember staring holes in it looking for clues about what they thought or felt or even what they did that day and what they talked about.

So, I gave myself an assignment this morning. I am going to tell my children the good stories. They will hear about silliness and strife and coming through the other side, and of sorrow and joy and family unity. Just because we will be divorced doesn't mean we will not have family unity. We will never not be a family. We'll just spread it across separate houses in order to have a happier family.

In "Peter Pan," the Lost Boys can never grow up. When asked why, Peter responds, "I don't know any stories."

Tell your stories. Pass them on. Don't filter them according to present circumstances. Let them have a life of their own. Let them grow up.

Comments

[Gail]

Good for you, Mindy. The kids will love the stories and they will remember them. We used to tell stories about our childhoods to the kids at the dinner table every night. We also told them a lot of silly stories about our early married days.

[Jenny]

Wow. Wow.

I often wonder what the kids will remember about these early years. I have very vivid memories from the age of two on. Lots and lots of them, mostly happy.

With all the time gone by, could you ask your mom and dad these questions?

[LPF]

My parents divorced when I was two, after a year-long separation. I've never seen a picture of them together, with me, until I got a copy of my aunt's wedding picture, with my mother six months pregnant with me. They still look happy and I wonder what happened. 30-odd years of bitterness and the death of my father have still never filled me in on why they fell in love, what their marriage was like, and why they split. I really salute you for realizing how important it is for your children to know that their parents had a good relationship, even if that was in the past.

[kelly]

Wow.This is hauntingly familiar. I wish you the best in moving into your new circumstances with an open heart and mind.

[Robin P]

Not only does Lillianna know about how Rich and I met but she knows all our individual stories from our childhood. She knows that Rich drank from a puddle when he was 5,about his dog Mignight,his cat Charlie,his crazy antics with his brother Kenny and funny stories about his dad.
She knows I fell while running from my Nana at 4,my wedding at 5 (the groom was 6),my cheerleading days and so much more.
All my posts from Dotmoms and my own blog are printed and in a binder for Lillianna. There is probably some stuff she didn't want to know but oh well....she is getting it all!!
You have a wonderful attitude about keeping the family whole even while divorced.Everyone will win because of this. You're a great mom!!

[Amanda]

Keep. Up. The. Blog.

You aren't your mother, as great as she seems. Your kids will never have to stare holes into a photo wondering what you were thinking. They'll just have to click a link. It's the best gift you can ever give them.

I'll be thinking of you tomorrow.

[kat]

This was beautifully written! As time goes on, I find myself more interested in family history. I've started taking notes of stories to pass on to my kids so they can pass on to their kids and so on. It's nice to have a sense of where your family comes from, both the good and the bad.

[Nikol]

Memories are good but I do not worry myself with trying to create them for my kids. They will remember what they will remember...mostly I just consentrate on trying to make them into good people.

Just because they cannot recall the details of something when they are an adult does not mean the moment did not contribute to the person they have become...ya know?

My dad is a "story teller" and constantly relates events from our youth. He is crushed everytime we cannot recall something he thought was the perfect parent-child moment.

Just because I cannot remember that he stayed home with me for 2 years and we used to go the beach every day in our California home to make sandcastles and chase the dog does not mean it it was not worth doing.

[mgood]

What a remarkable thing to learn about yourself. What a brave and noble decision you've made. I admire you for having written about this. Warm wishes for all the best for your and your children.