Monday, June 28, 2010


My parents split up the summer before I went into 5th grade.  Actually, we had been living in Florida and my brother, sister and I flew by ourselves from Florida to Indiana on the day our new school started.  (Mom and Dad were still in Florida at that point.)  Imagine starting at a new school in a rather small town (the day after everyone else) and dealing with the separation and being away from your parents and being in that wonderfully awkward 5th grade place all at once.  It was a not-so-stellar time in the life of me.

I don't remember my parents fighting, ever, but I do remember in 4th grade sitting with my mom on a plane and asking her if she and Dad were going to get divorced.  As an adult, I figure there must have been something I had seen/heard/picked up on, but I have blocked it out of my memory.  I considered myself pretty observant or sensitive or something (to have picked up on this impending change to our family) until I had this recent conversation with the girls:

(We are biking through the neighborhood)
K: Momma, are you and Dad going to get divorced?
Me: (almost flipping over the handle bars of the bike) Noooooo.  Why?
K: Well lately, you have been fighting a lot.
Me: No we haven't.  When?  We have not been fighting.
K: Well, you have...
(commence argument about arguing; honest I can't recall any recent argument with the hubby)
Me: Me and Dad are fine.  And we haven't been fighting.
H: (to K) ALL married couples are supposed to fight.  It's like a rule or something.

And, I guess that's how it is.  Who knew.

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