Fun In The Car!
Raphael, Boob Man

Believe it, Baby.

We were at the pool today for swim lessons. While we wait for the person who is having his lesson, the rest of us lounge by the baby pool. Well, I lounge, the boys splash. There are always other kids and moms – even one dad. In past years I’ve mingled with the moms, chatting while we sit on the side of the pool. But I’m kind of over the shallow water, shallow friendships, and damp butt. Plus, I have all these BOOKS to read. So I’ve remained huddled in the shade with a book during lesson time this summer.
Well, today Raphael was in a bit of a mood. A bit of a mood for Raphael means he’s fairly likely to bean another child on the head with his toy dinosaur. So I hovered at the pool’s edge, keeping an eye on him.
Inevitably, I ended up chatting with another mom. She had a tiny girl with huge blue eyes clinging to her knees. I asked how old her daughter was (seventeen months), and that started the information exchange.
“How many kids do you have?”
“How old?”
“Wow – all boys. [Say it together now] You really have your hands full.”
She remarked on the boys’ gorgeous brown skin.
“Yeah, they get that from their dad. He’s Mexican.” I replied.
“Oh? What does he do?”
“I have no idea.” This earned me a shocked look, so I elaborated. “I haven’t seen him since the divorce.” There was a long pause.
“How…how long have you been divorced?”
“Well, it’s been final for two years now.” Her eyes cut to Raphael. I’d just told her he was three, and she was doing the math.
There was another pause, and then she raised her chin and looked at me. I could tell she was choosing her words carefully.
“You know, my husband and I had a hard time a while ago.” I nodded, wondering where this was going, exactly. “But…you don’t just give up on a marriage. You don’t walk away.” She looked at Raphael again. “Especially when there are kids involved.”
Well, I’ve met her type before. I actually got THE VERY SAME lecture at that pool, two years ago. At that time I was devastated. Today I was…unimpressed. She has no idea what my story is. I didn’t feel the need to enlighten her. I tried to come up with some response, but found none.
I walked back to my chair in the shade and returned to my book. It’s about punctuation, and more interesting than a conversation with her.
Later I was talking to some friends about it and one of them said something along the lines of, “Well, someone who starts right in on you without any information has her own issues.”
That made me think. I haven’t talked to this woman much before today, other than the nod “hi” and “sure, your kids can play with our toys.” But I’ve caught snatches of her conversation with others, and she always seems to be talking about her husband.
He’s a doctor.
He’s training to run a marathon.
He went to medical school…somewhere. I don’t remember, being as how I don’t care.
He’s trying to fix their air conditioner, because he’s interested in how things work.
All “my husband,” all the time.
I thought about that for a while, then decided that her world must revolve around her husband. He’s her identity and reason for living (ok, I may be extrapolating a bit heavily here. Give me a break. She started it.). Anyhow, I’m sure she can’t imagine life without him. I am probably her worst fear.
Ok, so I can cut her some slack. That’s a pretty scary place to be living, and I rattled her cage. I mean, who said the blasé divorcee could come to the nice community pool?
But then I told my mom about it (not being upset DOESN’T mean I don’t chew it over with EVERYONE). She was incensed on my behalf, and suggested that that woman needs a lesson. A wee stroll through reality.
So here it is, for her and everyone who thinks they couldn’t POSSIBLY ever end up divorced.

Honey. Girlfriend. I know you think you’ve got it figured out. I’ve heard you say things like, “I don’t believe in divorce. Marriage is a commitment.”
I said the same things. Love, as my mom always said, is where your feet are planted.
But no matter how committed you are, no matter how little you believe in divorce, you can’t choose someone else’s actions. You can’t love someone else into respect for the institution, and sometimes you find your feet planted in a very lonely spot. Don’t believe in the Easter Bunny, don’t believe in Santa, but BELIEVE IN DIVORCE, Girlfriend. Because it happens.
But if your life does crumble around your ears and you find yourself alone and questioning everything you trusted, cling to this thought:
Some stranger can always come along and pass judgment on you too.



WOW. Excellent post. I can't say that I've ever been lectured by perfect strangers regarding my divorce. People who claimed to be my friends but ditched me when I needed them? Yes. A newlywed of six weeks? Yes. For right around 2 hours. Feh. And these people were all just like you said...identities completely wrapped up in their husbands. Been there, done that, won't do it again.


DOH -- WOW I SO admire that. I would have had to explain/defend or at the VERY least be rude.

Me: NO! Really? If ONLY someone had TOLD me divorce was bad for kids maybe I would have let them get a PUPPY instead. But I heard puppies chew the furniture, so we opted for the divorce.

ALSO I do not believe for a SECOND her intentions were good -- although SHE probably does. How on EARTH was that supposed to be HELPFUL? Obviously that horse has left that barn, run into the road, and met with fate in the form of a truck.

Now she comes up to you as you stand by the side of the road and says, earnestly, "You know, horses shouldn't be smacked into trucks."

Um yeah. Thanks.

Amma D

The thing is, there are people (you've met them) who say "We just grew was really a very friendly divorce...we are best friends." And although that kind of statement wouldn't make me launch into a lecture, it does make the top of my head pop off and my eyeballs start to twitch. And this poor child, married to white bread with blue eyes, is assumming that all divorces are like that. She needs a kind little lesson in reality and compassion. Or to be beaned with a dinosaur. Whatever.

Amma D

OK, enough compassion. My other self (the above post was my compassionate self...this one is my roaring, protective MOM self) likes the following scenario:

She says some tacky thing, and you open your mouth to be your usual sweet but incisive self, but before you can draw breath, out of the concession bar behind you, roars prehistoric ANGRY MOM, bloodied fangs dripping gore, claws the size of a beach ball, ten feet tall. I stagger toward her, roaring as she backs away screaming, falling over the stone picnic table and finally ends up cowering against the fence. I rip her to shreds and gobble her down, and look around and and belch (for Tre and Max).

Raphael glances up from the baby pool and says "cool, Amma" and goes back to playing in the water.


Kira? Have you and Amma ever considered moving back east? Aw heck, nevermind you... how about just Amma? ;)

I can't believe you managed to refrain from saying anything. And I love Joshilyn's response, too. (My response, which I shared with you last night, tends to make people afraid of me. Oops.)

Soooo... is it wrong to hope Mrs. My Husband Is a Doctor finds some other woman's lipstick in his underwear someday? I'm just wondering.


Kira- Aside from proving that you can marry a rich, well educated doctor and still not have the brains, grace or tact of your average toaster, you have also proved that you are at your best when you write about the passing scenes of popular culture. Not to put to fine a point on it, but YOU ARE AT YOUR DEVISTATINGLY BEST WHEN YOU MIX YOUR COMMENTS ABOUT POPULAR CULTURE AND ISSURES REGARDING THE BOYS, LIVING WITH YOUR PARENTS, THE SPERM DONOR, ETC. (I put that all in caps so that when you are rich and famous I can point to that sentence and absolutley prove I-knew-you-when). In my obviously layman's opinion, this, and the article about your trip to Galveston, should be what you are submitting to your publishers.

Author! Author!


Hey Amma D? Have you ever thought about writing your OWN blog? Every time you comment on Kira's, I think to myself, "Yep, Ki's mom can sure turn a phrase herself... she outta do more writing. I'd love to read more of it." In all seriousness here.

The One True Josh

Hear hear (here here? Hmmm....). The Ammablog would be a wonderful thing. Where else can we go for all the latest in toothbrush-phobic ranting?

As for the mom in the pool, I would have feigned shock and said, "Really?! You're a stronger woman than I am. I just couldn't get used to his infidelity. You'd be okay with that though? Wow."


I hate unsolicited advice from strangers. She has no idea your circumstance or situation. We cannot dare put ourself in another's shoes. Grrrrrrrrrrrrr


Go Amma! My kids would love you too, especially if you belch and show your fangs. I'm casting my vote for the Amma Blog.
And way to go Kira. People like that prove that some dogs should just stay under the porch washing their butts and leave the others to sniff out a better life (or something dead to roll around in)
No...I don't live with 8 dogs...why would you think that? ;)

Amma D

The comment section...ANY comment section of ANY my blog. comment section is safe.

Except I have no time!


You're welcome in my comment section any day, Amma. Hope to see you there soon. :)

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