It's 10:27 p.m.: Un-divorce, please

By Mindy

In the last few days, my 7-year-old son has been expressing a wish to be little again. He sees how I can still carry and swing his little brother and sister around, and how they can curl up into tiny balls on my lap.

He is a big boy. Fifty-six pounds. When he tries to curl up in my lap he's all elbows and knees and one of us always gets it in the ear. We end up side-by-side, holding hands, with an arm and a leg slung over.

He told me at bedtime the other day that he wanted to be little again. That he missed the times when he had me all to himself before he had siblings. He knows he had two years all to himself, and he is old enough now to recognize what a long time that was.

"But I guess I should feel lucky, since Dylan and Daphne didn't get any time alone with you."

"No, they didn't. But I spent special time with each of you as babies."

"And you didn't get any time either, because you had an older brother."

"No, I didn't, but it was all I knew, and all I knew was that my family loved me."

"I know."

"Tell you what: we'll take a day next week when it'll be just you and me, and we'll hang out and have lunch and go somewhere fun or just lay on the couch together reading books and watching movies. Would you like that?"

"Yes!"

That was an easy one compared to this situation: After his dad dropped him off at 9:30 p.m., he was in tears, shouting, "I hate this! I hate it! I want you to be together again! I want us all to live in one house again!"

I took a deep breath. "I know baby, but we've talked about this. Your dad and I are a better team in two houses. We're both happier and less upset."

"Can't you just avoid being mad?"

"How easy is it for you to not be mad at your brother?"

"Pretty hard. But you weren't mad at each other much at all."

"We didn't always show you, baby. But we will always show you how much we love you and we will always live close by so we can see each other every day if we want. We will always be a family."

That led to a discussion of my extended family, and who was married to whom, and who had divorced and remarried, and which children were related to us and how.

"So you see, I had one brother growing up. And then my parents divorced. My dad remarried first, and gave me three more brothers. And then my mom remarried and her new husband gave me two more brothers and a sister!"

"Wow, that's eight total!"

"Yes! Can you imagine if Grandpa weren't around? If he and Grandma had never married? Think of all the wonderful people who have grown into our family. If my Grandma and Grandaddy had stayed married, it would just be Uncle Chris and me. We wouldn't know any of the rest of your aunts and uncles or your cousins."

"I guess. But I just hate it! I can't help feeling that! I can't feel any other way about it."

"And that's okay. That's perfectly fine. Get mad. Get it out. But remember how sad we were before, and how much happier we are now. It's much better now that I'm not sad all the time."

"But it's not all about you!!"

I put my head in my hands. "I don't mean to make you feel bad, I just wish you would un-divorce."

"I know, baby, I know."

Mindy is a divorced mother who lives in the Bay Area with her three children.

by Mindy In the last few days, my seven-year-old son has been expressing a wish to be little again. He sees how I can still carry and swing his little brother and sister around, and how they can curl up into tiny balls on my lap. He is a big boy. Fifty-six pounds. When he tries to curl up in my lap he's all elbows and knees and one of us always gets it in the ear. We end up side-by-side, holding hands, with an arm and a leg slung over. He told me at bedtime yesterday that he wanted to be little again. That he missed the times when he had me all to himself before he had siblings. He knows he had two years all to himself, and he is old enough now to recognize what a long time that was. "But I guess I should feel lucky, since Dylan and Daphne didn't get any time alone with you." "No, they didn't. But I spent special time with each of you as babies." "And you didn't get any time either, because you had an older brother." "No, I didn't, but it was all I knew, and all I knew was that my family loved me." "I know." "Tell you what: we'll take a day next week when it'll be just you and me, and we'll hang out and have lunch and go somewhere fun or just lay on the couch together reading books and watching movies. Would you like that?" "Yes!" That was an easy one compared to tonight. After his dad dropped him off at nine-thirty p.m., he was in tears, shouting, "I hate this! I hate it! I want you to be together again! I want us all to live in one house again!" I took a deep breath. "I know baby, but we've talked about this. Your dad and I are a better team in two houses. We're both happier and less upset." "Can't you just avoid being mad?" "How easy is it for you to not be mad at your brother?" "Pretty hard. But you weren't mad at each other much at all." "We didn't always show you, baby. But we will always show you how much we love you and we will always live close by so we can see each other every day if we want. We will always be a family." That led to a discussion of my extended family, and who was married to whom, and who had divorced and remarried, and which children were related to us and how. "So you see, I had one brother growing up. And then my parents divorced. My dad remarried first, and gave me three more brothers. And then my mom remarried and her new husband gave me two more brothers and a sister!" "Wow, that's eight total!" "Yes! Can you imagine if Grandpa weren't around? If he and Grandma had never married? Think of all the wonderful people who have grown into our family. If my Grandma and Grandaddy had stayed married, it would just be Uncle Chris and me. We wouldn't know any of the rest of your aunts and uncles or your cousins." "I guess. But I just hate it! I can't help feeling that! I can't feel any other way about it." "And that's okay. That's perfectly fine. Get mad. Get it out. But remember how sad we were before, and how much happier we are now. It's much better now that I'm not sad all the time." "But it's not all about you!!" I put my head in my hands. "I don't mean to make you feel bad, I just wish you would un-divorce." "I know, baby, I know." Mindy is a divorced mother who lives in the Bay Area with her three children.

Comments

[Julie]

What a difficult situation for all of you. If only we could shield our children from those difficult truths that they really are too young to learn. It sounds like you are doing a fabulous job at breaking those truths down into relatively manageable chunks.

[Monica]

Aw, Mindy. What a sad post. Wishing you all the best.

[Donna]

My heart aches for your little guy. You did a wonderful job of emphasizing the positive in a situation that must be so hard for you all -- even though it is the right thing to do.

Beautiful post.

[Cathy]

Mindy - You brought tears to my eyes. I hope that one day your son will realize that the divorce was healthiest for all involved. In the meantime, hugs to you!

[Heidi]

That word "undivorce" really resonated with me.

At such times, a hug really helps.

[kelly]

Great piece. It's been 7 years since my ex and I divorced, and Ty who is 13 still has moments of wishing it could all be undone. I wish you guys all the best in moving forward.

[colecamplese]

Made me sad this morning ... its raining here and it just made me feel homesick. As always, great stuff.

[Jasra]

Definitely bittersweet. At some point, he will look back and realize how unhappy you and the ex were and be glad that things turned out as they did. But for now, it's just confusing.

It makes me think of my brother's struggle with our parents divorce. Sad stuff indeeed.

[cmhl]

such a bittersweet story. great writing, Mindy.

[Jason Berggren]

That is such a tough situation I'm sorry it is so difficult. Sounds like you are loving on your kids and doing your best.