So far, 2013 has sucked. It’s been basically one hit after another – and a lot of mud.
All this has led me recently to have some of the worst conversations in my life:
I don’t know where your Daddy is.
This is an all-time great conversation to have with kids. The best part about this conversation is that you don’t have to have it right away. Usually, they don’t notice for a bit that Daddy isn’t there.
Your Daddy lost his job.
This is the soft-touch to explaining that you have no clue when Daddy will be home, because when he lost his job, he went a little crazy, yelled and screamed swear words at you, and cut off all contact.
I am divorcing your Daddy.
This one takes some preparation and forethought. You don’t want to time this one wrong. Yes, you need to answer their questions honestly, but wait until they are home from school, done with homework, done with gymnastics, etc. There will be a lot of crying.
Your parakeet died.
Okay, I admit, it seems a little out of place, but the parakeet really did die the night he left. Now, if you have a kid with a sardonic sence of humor, she might put it together that it was the only male parakeet, and Daddy was the only male in the family…
Hi, I’m looking for CB. This is his wife.
Not a conversation I had with my kids. No, this was me calling Colostomy Bag’s mistress and trying to locate him in order to serve him divorce papers more efficiently. The more times they have to try to find him, the more it costs me. However, on the balance, the emotional cost of this voicemail was probably far greater than any monetary considerations would have ever been. I was literally shaking for half an hour afterward, coming down from the adrenaline high of the potential confrontation.