A Happy Velcro Family
When I grew up, children of divorced parents were spoken about in lowered tones. The parents were quietly disdained for "divorcing and creating a broken home. (Of course now one wonders how many men and women secretly wanted to head for the door as well. Divorce was often cited as a starting point for "juvenile delinquency" and petty crime. For instance, you probably didn't take a baseball bat to Mr. Belesca's mailbox three streets over, if you knew your father "would tan your hide" if you were found out.
When we were first divorced, Kid 1 was relieved when she realized that many of her peers lived with a single parent or were part of two reconstituted families. I was relieved that she was relieved.
I got thinking about this the other day when I was standing around the neighbor's trampoline with my ex-husband supervising our 13 year-old son and his 3 year old son as they bounced together with his son squealing in delight. Both boys are adorable. It didn't feel that much different than when our son was 3. I enjoyed standing there with him--he was silent and we were both focused on the kids.
As we watched, I got thinking about the concept of "broken families" and "broken homes". On most days, I like to think of us as a "Velcro family". Like those annoying decals that people put on their back windows depicting the number of stick-figure kids and dogs and cats and sports interests, but with little hands joined by little Velcro patches. Patches so little that they can barely be seen without a magnifying glass.
My kids are stuck to me during the week. Sometimes I'd like to detach Kid 2 during the week, usually around Wednesday. "Do you want to go live with your father?" is a threat that I've been known to make. On Friday night, both kids sometimes detach and go to Dad's house. As Kid 1 gets older, she is more likely to head off to a party of a babysitting gig. Kid 2 is just as likely to stay attached in our house.
Their father's little boy is sometimes attached to Kid 1 or Kid 2, while Papa strolls behind. Then there's the wife's son who fits between Kids 1 and 2 and is attached during the week to his mother and my ex-husband.
It's not perfect, but it's better than if we'd stayed married. There are weekday evenings when I know that my son needs his father. Or I need backup. Actually, I need a bad guy. I need to bounce ideas and reactions off a live person or slow down Kid 2 with "let's see what your father thinks". That's when my detachment theory comes unstuck.
When we were first divorced, Kid 1 was relieved when she realized that many of her peers lived with a single parent or were part of two reconstituted families. I was relieved that she was relieved.
I got thinking about this the other day when I was standing around the neighbor's trampoline with my ex-husband supervising our 13 year-old son and his 3 year old son as they bounced together with his son squealing in delight. Both boys are adorable. It didn't feel that much different than when our son was 3. I enjoyed standing there with him--he was silent and we were both focused on the kids.
As we watched, I got thinking about the concept of "broken families" and "broken homes". On most days, I like to think of us as a "Velcro family". Like those annoying decals that people put on their back windows depicting the number of stick-figure kids and dogs and cats and sports interests, but with little hands joined by little Velcro patches. Patches so little that they can barely be seen without a magnifying glass.
My kids are stuck to me during the week. Sometimes I'd like to detach Kid 2 during the week, usually around Wednesday. "Do you want to go live with your father?" is a threat that I've been known to make. On Friday night, both kids sometimes detach and go to Dad's house. As Kid 1 gets older, she is more likely to head off to a party of a babysitting gig. Kid 2 is just as likely to stay attached in our house.
Their father's little boy is sometimes attached to Kid 1 or Kid 2, while Papa strolls behind. Then there's the wife's son who fits between Kids 1 and 2 and is attached during the week to his mother and my ex-husband.
It's not perfect, but it's better than if we'd stayed married. There are weekday evenings when I know that my son needs his father. Or I need backup. Actually, I need a bad guy. I need to bounce ideas and reactions off a live person or slow down Kid 2 with "let's see what your father thinks". That's when my detachment theory comes unstuck.
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