No, My Kids Don’t Know About My Divorce

There’s strategy somewhere in this mess.

I have a strategy for divorce that I wish I could implement.

When you announce your divorce to your pockets of friends, there are dozens of questions. This is to be expected. The questions they ask are also expected, because the same handful gets repeated with each divorce announcement.

I wish I could create a pamphlet or an FAQ website with answers to the most common questions. I’ll generate a QR code and it’ll be a scannable solution. It gets old repeating the same content. Even worse, I find myself getting defensive as if each time I’m asked by someone new is an attack on my decision.

One of those common questions is: do the kids know?

No. They don’t.

This creates the same look of shock on my friends’ faces with that answer. How could they not know, given that we’re going through this transition while living in the same house and there hasn’t been any time apart thanks to Covid?

“They” say that kids know when parents don’t get along. “They” say that kids can feel the tension. “They” say that kids pick up on a lot more than they let on.

“They” don’t realize that my kids have only known this life. My son and daughter don’t know a world where mom and dad slept in the same bed or ate meals together.

Even my friends thought our bickering and lack of niceness to each other was our norm.

Joseph and I rarely fought in front of the kids. Removing the arguments post-I-Want-a-Divorce, they heard maybe one or two arguments a year at best. We kept the arguments for when they were asleep; kids will wake up when terrified of a closet monster but they can sleep through a tornado otherwise.

The rocky relationship I shared with Joseph was one of the reasons for wanting a divorce. I didn’t want them to think this was what marriage should be. Without realizing it, I had recreated the unloving, transactional, and resentful marriage I grew up with.

In the 10 years we’ve had kids, I can count on one hand how many times my kids saw a quick peck on the lips.

After asking for a divorce, our arguments went haywire. Researching divorce and its impact on children became my area of expertise over the years (contemplating divorce was my version of porn). I tried my best to keep our conversations civil but Joseph was a loose cannon. Admittedly, when my buttons were pushed too far, I’d snap and yell while the kids were around as well.

This past year has been calmer. With the divorce finally underway, we’re back to behaving like cranky roommates. We’re polite in the grand scheme with the odd snark tossed in.

Joseph was going to take the kids to a flea market this morning. As I got breakfast at 9:30 am, I asked if he was still going to take them.

“Oh, I thought you said you wanted to go. I was waiting for you.” No, you weren’t. “Plus, Eva just woke up.” Bingo. You weren’t waiting for me. You just aren’t used to planning activities for the kids so you didn’t think to get things ready the night before and then get them ready early enough in the morning.

As I pour my bowl of cereal, I reply “I’m going to stay home to do laundry and stuff.”

“I didn’t know that. You said last night you were going to go. I’m not a mind reader,” he snaps.

Under my breath, I grumble that I never said I was blaming him or that anything was even wrong. There was no accusation; my blood pressure rises because an innocent comment became fodder for him to throw snark my way.

My kids don’t know a world with parents who get along.

My greatest fear throughout the past 1.5 years of this divorce-plus-quarantine-plus-living-together situation is that Joseph will yell about the divorce and the kids will find out that way.

He’s already gotten close once before.

We only get one shot to not fuck this up. One shot to not overly psychologically scar them for life. I take the announcement very seriously.

If we tell them about the divorce now, before I’m even off this home loan and not ready to buy, then they’ll think the next few months are what divorce looks like. My kids will melt down, cry a ton, and then they’ll become accustomed to thinking life under one roof is standard divorce procedure.

Then I’ll have to tell them all over again once I move out. That’s like breaking your kids’ hearts twice.

My son is autistic. Like me, he needs to know concrete answers for emotional safety and stability. If we tell the kids about the divorce when things are still up in the air, we won’t have answers to questions like “where are you moving to?” and “when are you moving out?”

It distills down to telling your children, “we’re completely turning your life upside down but we don’t know when or what it will look like.”

Instead, I’d rather tell them when I’m in escrow with a new house. That gives roughly a month to break the news to them, answer their questions about timelines and location, as well as give them a chance to do fun things like pick out paint colors.

The downside to breaking this kind of news with Joseph is that he is the Eeyore of life. My mentality is to make this a positive thing. Tell the kids how they won’t have to worry about mom and dad bickering anymore. I want to get them excited about two homes with double the toys (appeal to their sense of materialism brought upon by their hoarder father) and how they can decorate their new rooms with their preferred themes. I want to break the divorce news to them with a smile, like we’re going on a new adventure.

Joseph will be somber with a sad sack attitude of, “hey guys…so mom and dad have some bad news. We’re breaking up.” I can mentally hear the “wah-wah” sound effect after each sentence. He’ll treat it like telling the news of a grandparent’s death; our kids will feed off that and feel like this is a horrible catastrophe.

I mean, it is a horrible catastrophe, but perception is reality. Why go into this new life with a sad, pessimistic attitude? I understand my children will be upset and cry, but I’m not going to add to their fears. That’s like finding out you have cancer and the doctor says, “I know, cancer is the absolute worst and your life is going to suck.”

We get one shot to not mess this up.

Just one.

For now, all I can do is stay the course and hope that Joseph doesn’t yell the divorce news the next time he flips his lid. I’m in the homestretch and trying my best to keep things moving smoothly. Breaking the news to the kids is a delicate task and the right time to tell them is when I have the answers to their questions.

Right now, I don’t even know the answers.