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Divorced With Kids

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Divorced with Kids is written anonymously by a 43-year-old woman who lives in a pretty, prosperous small town where most people stay married. She shares custody of her sons, 15 and 9, with their father, who lives a few blocks away. They divorced in the fall of 2009 after 18 years together. Read more of her writing at Irretrievably Broken.


This happy childhood brought to you courtesy of divorce

A commenter on my last post said she was disappointed that I’d referred to my father and stepmother’s kids as “their kids” instead of “my siblings.”  Oh dear.  I get hopelessly tangled in semantics whenever I try to describe my family.  The fact is, I don’t distinguish between full and half and step siblings in MORE »


A colossal problem

So I’m back, and my children have turned into utter cretins. I exaggerate, but just a little.  Ten days apart has made us a bit strange with each other. In my case, this strangeness manifests as a constant urge to hug and kiss them against their wills, to play actual games involving cards and boards MORE »



I’m going somewhere. See if you can guess where? (Hint:  if you can’t tell by the books, all is revealed on my other blog.) I’m massively excited. Long ago, when I was a fresh-faced college student, I spent a semester in this particular city, and I haven’t been back since. My kids, as I said, MORE »


Truly shared custody

When we split up, my ex-husband had never flown alone with the kids. He had never taken either one of them to the doctor or the ER unless I was there too. He had never taken them away overnight anywhere without me, unless his mother/brother/other relatives were also there.  He’d stayed HOME with them overnight, MORE »



On Sunday night, the phone rang. “We’re at Gymnex,” my ex-husband said.  This is a well frequented workout venue as well as a hospital, though the hospital has a different name.  “And they said he probably doesn’t need stitches after all, but we’re still waiting to hear from the doctor.” Wait, I said.  I must MORE »

When you stay

…the rooms hadn’t been emptied so much as they’d been manhandled into a patchier version of themselves.  The sofa and dining tables and the better armchairs still in place, it was smaller items–desk lamps, cheap bookshelves, a butcher board chopping block–that would suddenly reveal themselves as not there.  You’d try to set down a glass MORE »


A confession, and some general thoughts

I was away for a week, with no internet (well, two seconds every day on line just to make sure my children were still alive) and no telephone and boy, it was wonderful.  I got back late last night.  Yesterday morning I was in Honduras, and then last night I was in bed in my MORE »



DWK and her husband fail mediation.

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