South City Sadie

Ten

 

The twins are turning 10 in a couple of weeks. Double digits. Double the double digits, in this case. 

Ten is an astonishing number. No one can believe it. No one wants to believe it. A whole decade. 

Halfway to twenty. 

Ten is a time of editing. We just repainted the girls' room for the first time since kindergarten. The girls chose the colors. Bye-bye, pale pink. Hello, aqua and coral. Pictures and figurines deemed "babyish" have been taken down. A lot of these were baby or baptism gifts. But really, those things were more for the parents than for the child.

Many toys have been relegated to the closet to leave more floor space for slumber parties. There are rows of tiny erasers, squishy toys, and flavored lip balms on their windowsills.

Ten is a time to check myself: to acknowledge how different my children are from me, and how very different they are from each other. This year the girls are having two birthday parties with friends. N. invited all the class to go ice skating. I. just wants her closest friends over for a sleepover. 

I. tried to read "Anne of Green Gables" for her book report. She didn't get past the first chapter. She didn't see the charm--or rather, it failed to charm her. Neither of the girls care for the "Little House" series. I loved these books. But they are too old-fashioned for I. and N.'s tastes. I always thought we might have these series in common. But then I force myself to acknowledge that my own grade school friends weren't especially interested in them, either--and it hits me that there really were not many great series for girls AND boys written in the 1970s and 1980s. I wonder whether my brothers and I would have read the "Harry Potter" series together. What if we had been able to have any books in common? Would we get along better?

Ten is a time of discovery. The girls started band in September. Band is optional at their school, starting in fourth grade. N. plays the trumpet. I. plays the clarinet. D. and I murmur to each other that the girls are pretty good, and in their faces we see a satisfaction that neither of us really ever felt in music. N. has never taken piano lessons, but lately she sits down at a piano and plays something that sounds like an idea of something, and it sounds pleasant. 

Ten is a time of farewell. Last night I sat in the basement and sorted an enormous bin of 11.5-inch dolls. The girls want to keep some Barbies but said they don't care about Monster High, Ever After High, and Disney Princess dolls. It's been about a year since they regularly played with them. I remembered many of them from Christmas, birthday, or Easter wish lists. But when it came down to trying to place a memory with the dolls, I could only remember one: an elfin little blonde preschooler with bangs and dimples, beaming up at the Sleeping Beauty doll in her Easter basket. 

That was then. This is 10.

 

 

 

Compose New Post

In the past few months, I've wondered why I stopped blogging. The answers come readily.

 

I didn't have time to write long, contemplative posts.

I didn't have time to read and comment on my friends' posts.

I didn't want to expose myself.

I wanted to protect my kids' privacy.

I was relying on Facebook for easy connections.

I lost my writer's voice.

I thought that infertility was behind me.

I was ashamed of my emotions during infertility.

I didn't like the woman I had been.

I didn't know what kind of woman I could become.

I felt a bit of survivor's guilt.

I felt a lot of guilt about having postpartum depression after infertility.

I didn't think I had anything left to say.

I didn't think I could write anything worth reading.

 

And so it became easiest to compartmentalize: I was infertile, and now I'm not. I had all the time in the world, and now I don't. I was sad and angry, and now I have every reason to be happy. I was a good writer, and now I'm not. That was then, and this is now. But that "now" was 6 years ago. 

A decade after feeling that infertility was in my past--my daughters will be 10 in November--I'm no longer ashamed or afraid of my writing. My blogging was raw, and it was honest, and it was the best writing I have ever done. I don't want it to be the best that I will ever do.

It's time to start hitting "publish" again. 

 

 

 

 

 

January 2013

I told Kate that I would follow her example and post soon, and I'm pretty sure I've promised the same to Mel more than once, not to mention Serenity, Jamie, Loribeth, et al., so here I am, just writing, not in the introspective style that I prefer and not hyperlinking any of the above names. But as self-improvement bloggers are always saying, "The perfect is the enemy of the good," or as Ivy reminds me at least twice a day, "You get what you get and you don't throw a fit."

2012 was an unsettling year at the personal level, to say nothing of national and world events. The girls started preschool; D. took a new job; I turned 35 (not a fun milestone even if you aren't worried about seeing "advanced maternal age" scrawled on an obstetrics chart); I thought far, far too much about money and status; and D's parents came to the brink of divorce for not the first time, only to settle back (so it seems) into their usual state of mutual contempt, continued hoarding (MIL), and manic episodes (FIL). My in-laws are very nice individually but not together.

But it's a new year, and I'm moving forward. I'll be 36 on the 10th, but I'm feeling OK about that. I realized last year that it's time to take better care of myself, so I started running more and did my first 5k in November. I chatted with my SIL the entire time, so it was far from a personal record, but hey, I didn't have to stop or walk! Unfortunately I was sick all December due to various preschooler-borne viruses and sort of lost my mojo and some muscle tone, but I can get both back. I wouldn't mind if the 8-lb weight loss stayed around.

Also, the girls are cute cute cute! Ivy loves to write her name on everything, decorate and make crafts, make up games with her own rules, compose songs, tell jokes, and color and paint. She does not suffer from a lack of confidence in her own abilities, to put it politely. But she's very caring and introspective. She is quite conscientious and is eager to learn. She loves her stuffed animals and anything pink or princess. She idolizes big girls.

Nina continues to be a dreamy little girl; I'm fascinated by the way she sees things (as my friend Jennifer F. once said, "Nina World must be a pleasant place."). When she is especially happy, she pretends to be someone else and stays in character for hours. She likes babies. She doesn't show much interest in coloring or drawing, but she likes to throw paint around on paper, and she likes books. I know she will really enjoy reading. She also loves music; she keeps quite still and lets it wash over her. It's so lovely. Nina loves to be allowed to take pictures with the digital camera. We really need to get her her own little camera.

They are full of plans (mostly involving crepes) for a family trip to Paris, which will not be happening anytime soon. : P

The girls have been dressing up and playing pretend a lot. I had told myself and many, many others that I was NOT keen on Disney Princesses, but I eventually had to own up: I would have LOVED that shit when I was little. I just had a Madame Alexander-type Snow White doll who looked nothing like the cartoon character, so I enjoy all of the girls' detailed costumes and dolls. Also, they are really into the movie "Annie" (the one we all remember from the early 80s) and like to sing and act it out. Nina is Annie, Ivy is Molly, and I am usually cast as Miss Hannigan and get to yell a lot while they laugh and laugh. "Don't forget your grown-up drink!" Ivy reminds me.

I love having little girls.

No child is perfect, of course. Ivy needs to work on controlling her temper and not dominating her sister. Nina is inattentive at times and has had another physical therapy evaluation and will have an occupational therapy evaluation next month at her teachers' request. The physical therapist at Children's thinks it might be something like a sensory processing disorder -- only she is sensation seeking, not avoiding -- and maybe in the proprioceptive fields (posture, equilibrium, awareness of movement). But she hasn't had any attention problems at school, and Ivy hasn't flown off the handle at school, either. Also, no accidents at school!

Age 4 is not super easy all the time, but I. and N. are really blossoming in their preschool program. Awesome Babysitter Erin is doing her student teaching, so she's no longer available for weekly sitting, but I was able to add another morning of preschool. Now they go three mornings per week.

I have to fit in an errand and fold laundry before pick-up time at 11:20, so I'll wrap up this post with a picture. This was taken at a wedding in November.

What's new in your worlds?

Starting the world again

So much for "Paris recap within a week." What can I say? Only the truth, which is that life with 3 year olds is not very conducive to blogging. I once read an essay that referred to 3 year olds as "incontinent little Napoleons." Three-year-old twins are just as demanding as 3-month-old twins. More so, really, because they are easily frustrated, stay awake all day (mine are, at least), are still limited in what they can do for themselves, and are MORE than capable of communicating those frustrations but are still several years away from true rationality.

Age 3 has not been my favorite.

But now the girls -- who truly are cheerful, healthy, beautiful children despite the tyranny of their age -- are in preschool two mornings each week. It is to preschool that I owe the pleasure of blogging again, or, at least, writing this particular post. I have more time, and I also expect to have more to write about now as I contemplate this and that.

Something about this summer felt familiar. I had things to do, an almost instinctive pattern to follow: hype preschool to the girls, buy school supplies, argue with I. over an overpriced backpack, flag down neighbors and the UPS man to show off stylish little plaid jumpers, go to meetings, and revel in the feeling of finally being part of it all now, all the while feeling completely unprepared and vaguely guilty and positively terrified. Suddenly Aug. 23rd was here, with an hour of hustle and bustle, a short ride in the car, and then a few hours of watching the clock and constantly checking my cell phone while excitedly calling friends and posting pictures on FB. And just like that, a stage of childhood was over.

It was like nothing so much as the final weeks and day of my pregnancy. And from now on, every August will be like this -- not so intense, probably, but still anxious. Expectant. Is that what drives all the "ha ha, time to have another baby!" comments I've seen on FB posts? Is that why Target followed back-to-school sales with a big baby sale?

Ha ha, that's a good one! Preschool gives me nearly 8 hours per week of time such as I haven't had since the girls were born. I worked from home for 2 years for getting pregnant, and I didn't mind the solitude at all. Now it's an absolute respite from the noise and busyness. I drop off the girls and come home to only the sound of Sadie's excited whining, for she knows she can have a long walk and I will have a little more bounce in my step. I don't have to leave the girls with their babysitter or drive 45 minutes to my in-laws' house. I don't have to cram errands into my freelance work time, fearing that I won't have another opportunity to get to the store this week. In addition, Erin is still sitting on Monday afternoons, so there's another 4-hour block of time. It is beautiful.

I was a little teary-eyed for a couple of minutes on the first day. That's all. I. and N. need this preschool time just as much as I do. They need to learn with and from other kids.

This isn't to say I don't have any worries. I have many. Times two. Last week I checked out three library books on three different disorders, which I've been reading surreptiously, despite a best friend's recommendation to stop reading so many damn parenting books. That lasted about a month, and then "It's OK Not to Share" was released. Have Kindle, will download parenting book. Have new source of anxiety, will blog.

I think I was a little paranoid when I decided to go password protected. It was before my PPD diagnosis. Two years of W.ellbutrin and eleven months without blogging have helped me relax a bit. Plus, my blog has never been open to search engines, and when you Google "I.vy and N.ina" there are pages of links to some song, various N.inas at Ivy League schools, etc. If I feel that I need more privacy in order to talk more candidly, I'll put up a password again. Until then, my blog is open to all readers. That is, if I still have any after nearly a year's absence. : )

October

Hello again! Sorry for another 2-month lapse in my posts. Things are going very well. The girls won't be in preschool for another couple of years, but the start of the school year made a big difference in my own schedule and my mood. Erin babysits for 4 hours every Monday now -- a nice start to the week! -- and Fairy Godmother Julie often takes the girls to her house for the day.

My last post was a rant, but I'm feeling better about my parenting style and methods. Recently I retook the test in MotherStyles, the personality typing book based on the Myers-Briggs system, which is pretty much my #1 parenting book. I'm an INFP: Introverted, Intuitive, Feeling, Perceiving, but I'm on the borderline between Perceiving and Judging. So I'm "The Tuned-In Mother" but nearly "The Know Thyself Mother." I rock the unstructured time, emotional connections with my children, transcendental moments, and random stops for ice cream. I struggle with/suck at small details, structured activity, and decision-making in general. I get moody if I don't have enough "me" time. Very true. I've given this book to my closest friends and shared it with my mom. The awesome part of this book is that it really does show that there is no one way to be a good mother and that women approach motherhood with different motivations, dreams, and values. Also, I can understand now why I felt so disconnected and confused during infertility. I'm not a goal-setting kind of person, so "watchful waiting" was truly the right approach, until intuition led me to IVF.

Thus it's more than OK that I just like to hang out at home with my kids and haven't taken them back to storytime since my last post. That's how INFPs roll.

Because I do need a lot of time to myself, I've started getting up at 6 every morning; this gives me a couple of hours in the morning before the girls wake up, and it's a big improvement. I can spend some time with D., have coffee, watch Rick Steves, read, go online, or occasionally work on a draft of a blog post that will be published eventually.   : ) I've been trying to go to bed earlier and setting my cell phone alarm for 9:55 pm -- that's my cue to stop my freelance work. Before the girls were born, I usually got up at 6 and was in bed by 10:30, and I feel healthier, having returned to those habits.

It helps that the girls have stopped napping, and although 6-7 pm can be hellish, they're out with lights out. I think they are going through a growth spurt; for the past week, they've been sleeping for 12.5 to 13 hours at night.

The girls might just look taller because we were gone for nearly a week. D. and I were in Paris from Oct. 12th to 17th. Paris is wonderful. I've only been to two other cities in the U.K. and Europe -- London and Amsterdam -- and they were awesome, especially London, but Paris is on another level altogether. D. edited our photos and video with iMovie; I've been trying to embed it from my Facebook wall, to no avail, but if you're FB friends with me, you can see it there, or maybe the link above will work. And I promise to write another post soon about our trip. For now, let it be known that dusty (grayish) purple was the color on the Paris streets as of last Sunday. Nearly every female, from infant to elderly, was wearing something in that shade.

In other big news, Ivy and Nina will be 3 in less than 2 weeks! Their personalities and differences are very clear now, and the girls are beginning to take ownership of their belongings.

I'd say that Ivy has a temperamental side but is also extremely loving and tender hearted. She says, "I love you, Mama" dozens of times each day. She takes good care of her stuffed animals (and Nina's) and likes to line up Little People animals for a dance party. I can usually calm her down by talking "through" a stuffed animal. Ivy is a great dancer and can do somersaults. She's attentive and orderly and, in crowds, is more likely to stand back for awhile and look on with a smile, then join in the fun. Ivy's smile and dimples continue to light up the room. She's into clothing, especially pink dresses, and she likes to wear a necklace. She did not get this from me, although she's very much a mommy's girl. But she told D. last night, while watching Mary Poppins, "He [George Banks] is not a very nice daddy. I have a GREAT dad." Her speech improves daily.

I try not to make a big deal out of Ivy's blonde hair and aquamarine eyes, because I had some serious blonde resentment when I was little (in the days when most dolls were blonde). But Ivy's hair really is beautiful. It is shoulder length and has an enviable wave. Nina's hair is a pretty shade of light golden-brown, but it's very fine and can look kind of straggly sometimes. Her legs make up for that, though. The girl has gams! She's so lucky.

Nina is a little less feisty than Ivy, but I don't think she listens to half of what I say, and I know she doesn't listen to half of my instructions! She's a sunny little girl but is sensitive to criticism and when she starts crying, she gets upset that she is actually crying ("I'm sad. I don't want to be sad. I don't want to cry. I can't stop crying!"), and it takes awhile to calm her down. She's kind of mischievous, or maybe she just likes to push boundaries. Nina is very gregarious and joins in right away. I think Ivy would be far more reserved without Nina, but I do need to work on STRANGER DANGER with Nina. She's very tactile -- she sleeps on her stomach over a bundle of blankets, but with wooden toys, colored pencils, or other favored objects of the last half-hour at her side, and she likes to play with water. She loves to color with chalk and to make layers of intense pigments on the sidewalk, the wall, and herself. Nina is great at memorizing lyrics and nursery rhymes -- she gets this from me and my dad -- and she has a nice voice and the sweetest inflection, but not a whole lot of coordination or mechanical ability (she gets this from my mom... and maybe from me). ; )

Right now the girls are obsessed with Mamma Mia!. They know all the lyrics, and when the first "Dancing Queen" number comes on, they get up on the couch/pier and sing at the tops of their lungs, then jump off the couch/into the water. I love their exuberance. But I wish to God that this movie had been cast with people who could actually sing. Any soundtrack purchase will be from the stage musical, not the movie!

It's close to 9:30 and I still have a bit of freelance work to do tonight, so bonsoir for now. I'll try to post pictures and details of our Paris trip within the next week.

Here's the story

High on my list of "Things That Kind of Suck about Parenting Twin Toddlers": Transition time.

We're home from another toddler storytime at the library, after which the kids go out to play in a big sunny corner of the children's floor, with puzzles, crayons, and magnetic letters.  I stand around or find a seat somewhere between the girls.  Ivy always sits down to color, and Nina plays with the letters or puzzles.  I am the only mom who is not sitting down *thisclose* to her child, right in the action.  The two stay-at-home dads retreat about 10 yards, where they commiserate while observing their kids and checking out the Urban Mommies. 

I like to do a subdued smoky eye makeup for storytime.

All is well for half an hour, except that Nina (who loves storytime itself and is totally gregarious with the other kids) is beyond territorial about a particular shapes puzzle and starts a tantrum.  She's going through a territorial stage.  The other night she woke up at 11 pm, said that she didn't want to share with Ivy, and fell back asleep.

The tantrum dies down, somehow, but I know another is imminent.  Ivy is coloring away, very quietly, and she doesn't mind if other kids sit down, as long as they don't want the purple marker.  I tell the girls that we'll need to leave in a few minutes.

Another tantrum begins, again about the shapes puzzle.  Time's up!  Time to go.  Then Ivy screams in her eardrum-shattering way.  This is unusual.  Most days, Ivy packs up and comes along as I struggle with Nina.  I guess she really wants to finish her pictures.  I tell her she can bring them home.  NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!  I tell the girls what fun things we'll do at home.  I even resort to candy bribery.  I carry a stash of Smarties, like my grandma and my mom.

I don't know what the fuck I'm doing.  I end up carrying two screaming or crying toddlers, plus a diaper bag, a small backpack of stuffed animals, and a stowaway crayon, out of the library, mouthing apologies over my shoulder.

I know transitions are difficult for toddlers and preschoolers, and that I am supposed to say, "We'll leave in 5 minutes," then 3 minutes, etc.  I'm also supposed to leave on an up note, before the child gets super cranky -- I guess that would be at the 20-minute mark or so.  In this advice, "child" is almost always in the singular, with nary a mention of another child's presence.

(Also, have you noticed how many discipline books are written by men, usually with very advanced degrees and successful practices, who are presumably not at home with their children all day?)

But I do know why my mom never took us anywhere.  Two arms < three kids within 18 months. 

Come to think of it, the moms with toddlers plus babies seem to vanish right after storytime, not stopping to play.

Maybe that's my problem.  I'm trying to let my twins have the experiences of singletons.  And realistically, half the remaining singletons are probably carried out screaming well after we leave, because it's nearly lunch and nap time.

But -- I'll get on my soapbox for this paragraph -- I also believe that our culture is going against nature and neurology here.  The concept of formal, toddler-specific enrichment is brand-new, anthropologically speaking.  It's the KGOY (Kids Getting Older Younger) theory: we put our 2.5 year olds in activities that we ourselves wouldn't have done until preschool at the earliest.  We have wildly inflated expectations of infants and toddlers' capabilities.  We've also considerably changed the age cut-offs for "toddler" and infant" in recent decades.  Many people will say that children learn through repeated exposures.  I think it really has to be an everyday exposure, an everyday routine, in order to sink into the toddler brain and truly speed up the process of learning self-control.  And even then there will be good days and bad days.

The difficulty is in keeping a good day from suddenly turning into a bad day while letting siblings have the chance to play as individuals.  If you have a method for dealing with transitions that is successful -- oh, at least 33.4% of the time, please share it.

Say "click!" Take a pic!*

It's been a long-ass time since I posted photos of the girls. Steel yourself for an onslaught of cuteness!

 

Independence Day. Nina's hair color has really lightened this summer! The girls seem to look more alike, don't you think?

 

Educational/desperate outing to PetSmart. Mama Puffin went along to prey on the fish.

 

Little Ms. Fix-It (a.k.a. Ivy) used toothpaste to attach the broken lock to the dollhouse door. I immediately called five people to brag.

 

 

Ivy's approximation of the Pixar lamp: banana stand, kitchen utensils, pajama shorts, plastic ice cream scoop, plastic shovel, votive holder, Crystal Light container.

 

 

Nina shows off her Strawberry Quik-coated tongue.  That counter generally looks like one in a VIP restroom, only with pink powder instead of white. 

 

 

 

Swinging on the fence at Aunt Julie's house.

 

 

Julie always gets the best pictures.

 

 

 Like this, on St. Patrick's Day. CUTE CUTE CUTE.

 

 

 

And this, during a springtime visit to the feed store. This is Nina's early mischievous expression. I wasn't there, but I'm almost positive that she wanted to grab a baby chick and run out the door. She's a bolter.

 

 

 

I love, absolutely LOVE, this picture of Ivy on St. Patrick's Day.

 

 

 

Pirates are big in our house. This water table rocks. Arrggh, 'tis not ours.

 

 

 

First trip to the beach! Last weekend we visited friends in Evanston, Illinois.

 

 

This is an extremely typical morning at our house.

 

 

Potty training is progressing sloooooowly. But Mama Puffin has the hang of it. Mama Puffin is part of the triumvirate that presides over Ivy's part of the room, along with Teddy Bear and Baa Baa Sheep.

 

 

 

D., Ivy, and Nina.

 

 

 

Nina passed out on the couch for a late-afternoon nap, lollipop in hand. Sticky-sweet, just like this post.

 

 

 

*Apologies to parents of toddlers and preschoolers for putting "Camera" Rosie Perez's voice in your head.

Two and done

My family gave SIL #1 a baby shower on Saturday.  We had a great turnout, and SIL received a lot of her registry items, not just clothes like at her previous shower, but then, who can resist buying baby girl clothes?  I worked in retail for awhile, so I know it's not an accident that the baby girl section is always closer to the main entrance or aisles. 

SIL #2 has a scheduled C-section next Friday, and she looked terribly uncomfortable but said she was doing all right.  "I have a lot more energy this time," she said.  "I don't have a choice, though."  Her 17-month-old son was running around and putting everything in his mouth, and I was reminded that this is How Things Go -- meaning that 18 months between babies is not that unusual and many Americans want a 2- to 3-year age difference.

I've had a lot of such reminders lately, as I've tried to get out more often with the girls.  Now I'm not the only one dealing with two children at the playground or at storytime.  Sometimes a woman is babysitting an additional child, but more often there is an older toddler or young preschooler and a young infant. 

Sometimes I feel resentful for a few moments at what may or may not have been easy fertility, but mostly I feel overwhelmed for that woman, because she looks so tired.  Her attention is divided now; her movements are abrupt; her gaze lingers on one child and darts toward the other.  She's speaking my body language.  

My new nieces are arriving just as my daughters' babyhoods end.  When SIL #2 had her first baby shower in Nov 09, I sat on the ground and recorded the gifts, nodding knowingly or adding to the chorus of admiration.  This time, I stood in the doorway, sort of watching the gift opening but mostly keeping an eye on Ivy and Nina in the next room.  I felt a little wistful as SIL #1 held up footed sleeper after footed sleeper, and I had to blink back sudden tears.  (The sleepers are my favorite; I have about two dozen in my cedar chest upstairs.)  And at this shower, I felt out of it because most baby things are out of my house.

Ivy and Nina wear size 3t or 4t tops, but 2t shorts fall off their skinny little toddler butts, which are covered by Dora pull-ups during the day.  We have two potty chairs sitting side by side, stadium seat style.  The last box of daytime diapers was sent to tornado victims in Joplin, Mo.  A crib mattress, high chair, baby monitor, and leftover childproofing items went to an Afghani family on the next block.  I like to give things away.  I've kept a lot of favorite outfits in addition to the footed sleepers, as well as a small box of favorite baby toys -- very little things, like the turtle from the bouncy seat bar, which Nina loved; a funny little dinosaur that says, "Bleh!" when its stomach is squeezed; a very dog-eared, cat-shaped book.  We still use the changing table to store pull-ups, diaper bags, and pajamas.  Otherwise the Pack & Play is the only big baby item left in the house, and that's in the cellar.  We'll keep the double jogger, but I haven't used the double Maclaren umbrella stroller in forever, so I'll probably put it out for the next Kidney Services pick-up.

My own baby showers were 3 years and several Carter's color schemes ago.  I waited for a long time to have that baby experience, and then it was doubled but compressed.  Awhile ago, fellow twin mom Mel wrote that with only twins, you get to do everything twice, but you only get to do it once -- I'm paraphrasing because I can't find the exact quote.  It's an intense experience.  But when it's done, it's done, and I feel that's a gift and -- to me, after the sadness and stagnation of infertility -- even better than How Things Go.

NYT, how did you get my password?

It's always gratifying when the New York Times echoes my anxieties.

I'm being sarcastic.

The NYT article was intriguing, but I guess men on the Upper West Side must be an enlightened lot, because in the vast majority of my friends' separations, the men have behaved very badly indeed.  Infidelity, abandonment of wife and children, emotional and verbal abuse, and quite a bit of denial of/refusal to treat mental illness.  "There are two sides to every story," etc., but sometimes the second side looks awfully shallow on paper. 

In the 4 minutes between emailing my friend Bonnie about the NYT article and reading her reply, I learned of yet another separation!  SIL #1's sister's husband cheated on her.  She and her son will not be returning to CA after a long visit home.

I don't see how those friends could have done anything other than file for divorce.  I don't believe in always sticking it out for the kids. 

Just so you know that I'm not shunning anyone at the playground.  : )

 

Marriage tending

D. and I are jumping the gun by going to Paris* a year ahead of our 10th anniversary, but I feel that an anniversary trip is in order.  With four separations or divorces amongst our friends in the past year -- two with some very troubling circumstances -- it seems that the 7-year itch is more than a title.  These breakups are pretty unnerving.  I find myself dwelling on them, wondering what went wrong and when and why. 

Maybe my parents' Catholic influence is stronger than I thought it was -- my parents think divorce is not quite immoral but very, very sad, especially when there are children involved.  Maybe in my 30s, I can more clearly see how parental divorce has very significantly affected childhood and college friends' own relationships.  Maybe I know which of our own flaws could turn into fault lines, if not addressed.

D. has also taken some of these separations very much to heart, especially his best man's divorce, which has led to some very deep conversations and verbal recommitments to our own marriage and to our daughters.  And to Paris this autumn. 

 

 

*After a very expensive week, in which we had to replace our 7-year-old washer and 5-year-old iMac, we decided to go to Paris for 4 nights, instead of London and Paris.  The original plan was much more expensive, probably because of the London hotels.  I'm a lot more comfortable with this plan -- we'll be away from the girls for 6 or 7 days instead of 8 or 9.