Two years to the day after we signed our divorce papers, my ex-husband and my boyfriend met face to face. I’ve just wasted five minutes sitting here counting on my fingers. When did we separate, when did we sign the papers, when did we actually divorce? Looking back some of it seems improbably sudden; some MORE »
The word “eirene” means “peace” in ancient Greek. Seriously. I posted on the other blog that I was not where I was supposed to be. Not home, not with my kids, who are still across the country with their father. That particular feeling–the feeling of not being where one belongs–is, for me, the most pervasive MORE »
Remember that scandal a few years ago, when, for a week, the real identities of Amazon reviewers became visible on their Canadian website? (Oh, Canada.) No? Here. If this doesn’t make you cackle with glee, I’ll eat my hat. I’ll eat my son’s plastic Fisher Price hat, that is–the one that appears on his head MORE »
If you are my younger son, then you were born in the middle of July, which happened to coincide with a rather hotly anticipated movie release this summer. When you’re nine, and the seventh and final Harry Potter film opens the very weekend that follows your birthday, your birthday party becomes (in your mind, at MORE »
Several months ago, the Huffington Post added a “Divorce” section to its website. They’ve linked to a couple of essays I’ve written here, and I click over and read what they publish from time to time. The articles themselves are usually pretty anodyne–I may have missed something, but so far I haven’t seen any piece MORE »
In the bad old days of divorce, back when I was the happy product of a broken (and mended, rebroken, et cetera) home, mothers almost always got full custody of their children. Fathers often moved away, and contact between the divorced parents was minimal. Mercifully minimal. Those days are gone, and while I don’t truly MORE »
Signs you’re headed for divorce
The hardest summer for a kid whose parents are divorced turns out to be one of the most valuable.
A stepmother adjusts to her husband’s child from a previous marriage.
Two roads diverged, and somehow I managed to travel both. My parents, as I said, split up when I was very young. I was born in 1968. By 1970 it was clear they were headed separate ways, and my mother and soon-to-be-stepfather moved with me to Montana the summer I was four years old. That MORE »
The Daily Babble