Divorce and a 3 (& 4) year old: Tips, notes, and reflections

Hawk about a month before the split.

I originally started this post in August, a couple of months before Hawk turned 4.  2011 really kicked my ass, our asses (ohmyfuckinggodican'twaitforittobeover).  I don't know how present I was through all of it.  In hindsight, I wasn't capable of shielding Hawk from my own life 100%.  I did well enough, I suppose, but I wish I'd done more. 

I try not to ruminate on my own feelings about our days together (I don't know how he'll feel about this past year or how it will effect him in the long run - only time will tell).  It's like a counseling session: I might feel like I was off my game and floundering, but the client might walk away feeling empowered, listened to, and like it was a meaningful hour.  I can't translate the experience for anyone else but me.  And so I look back on my impending divorce and my first year of single-mothering with as much objectivity as possible.

Here are my thoughts on handling separation and divorce with your 3 (& 4) year old:

Be developmentally appropriate
When Rooster and I split up - physically separated - Hawk was roughly 2 years and 9 months old.  Just a wee little thing.  Which meant he wasn't fully potty-trained, yet, he was only barely grasping the concept of yesterday, today, and tomorrow and was struggling with communicating his feelings through language, but he could feel.  So that's what I addressed.

If I felt the loss, the strangeness, the sadness, the longing for my baby, wouldn't it follow that he would also feel something along those lines as well?  He's a littler human, after all.  I know his father was feeling it, too.

I spent a lot of time talking about my feelings and those of Hawk's.  I gave voice to them and hoped I was close to the mark since I knew he couldn't conceptualize them on his own.

When he cried after a transition or after seeing his father I would say, "I know you love your daddy very much and it hurts to be apart from him."  He'd nod agreement and cry some more.  I tried to incorporate the visceral feeling of loss, too.  "My heart hurts when I miss Daddy.  I bet your heart hurts, too."  I always ended chats like these with, "Don't worry, baby, it won't feel like this forever."

Be honest about the situation and realize you're not the only one who's living this new life
By acknowledging the suckiness of the situation and Hawk's initiation into a new palette of emotions I hoped to validate his experience of going back and forth and being separated from me (he was already used to separation from Rooster), and living with two parents who were struggling.

It fucking sucked.  Why wouldn't I tell him I knew that and that we were (as a disjointed family) all going through it together?

I believe one of the most powerful things a parent can do is to show her humanity.  When I feel sad or cranky I share my mood with Hawk, "Mommy is feeling really cranky right now and I'm sorry I've been short-tempered today."  Which segues nicely whenever he's cranky and being a bear, "Wow, you seem to be having a rough day today.  Is that true?"  He's able to identify and relate in (hopefully) a meaningful way.

I wanted to show Hawk that I knew he was there, too.  That he wasn't forgotten.  That he was a real participant in our lives, too.

Forgive yourself and be strong
Ok, so your life isn't turning out as you wanted, but that doesn't mean shit.  Not really.  It's something I had to embrace when I realized I wasn't going to have more than one child.  Accepting this new fragmented life seemed an easy extension of that.  And my hope is that I'm modeling flexibility and strength.

Co-parent, co-parent, co-parent
I know not all relationships end like mine.  Rooster and I have remained partners in all of this and for that I'm eternally grateful.  So, if you can manage to have any kind of connection with your ex, do it.  Keep anchoring routines as similar as possible, the language the same, the consequences.  Every little thing that you two can do to keep the tumultuousness of the new life at bay, do it.

And if you can manage it, see your kids on off weeks for hugs and kisses.

Don't stop being the parent
So, here I am telling you to be open, honest, and human with your little one, but there's a balance.  He's not your co-hort, though he's sharing this path with you.  He's still your charge and not to be leaned upon.  Don't cry to him, though a cry in front of him can be natural if not too alarming.  I've cried in front of Hawk a handful of times and he was given the opportunity to come and pat me, inquire after my feelings -- a good exercise in compassion.  I would tell him my heart hurt because I was a little sad, but that I would be ok and I was thankful for his hugs.  You don't want to overwhelm your little ones with the force of your feelings. 


Of course I'm no expert.  These are just things that helped make me navigate this emotional time, rules I implemented so I didn't feel so goddamned lost.  I also have no effing clue what my kid is gonna be like when he grows up; how he's going to view these first few years of his new life.  He will never have a memory of his father and I living together.  Never.  And he still shares his wish that we all lived together, though I think it's more about convenience than a memory he might have.

Like I tell my kid, we're tough, he's tough, we're all tough, and we'll get through this.  My fingers are crossed we're past the worst and I mostly believe that's true.


What do you guys think?  Do you have any specific questions?  Any other helpful suggestions?

When I know I've done something right

My little boy's love handles are gone.

Being unemployed and muddling through a divorce is not fun.  No. fun. at. all.

I spend the better part of my day feeling like shit because it's somehow my fault I'm unemployed, because, naturally, if I were doing it right I'd have a job.  The other part of my day I'm feeling half way between joyous at being out of a painful relationship and crushed that my partnership with a wonderful human being is forever relegated to "father of my child" instead of "partner forever."  There's also a whole lot of swearing, laughing, searching, thinking and hustling going on, too, but that's the gist.

Sunday, as you all know, was Father's Day and Rooster decided he'd like me to join him and Hawk for the day.  It was my custodial day and I would have been happy to let them hang together sans moi, but I was happy to be a familial unit, too. 

Rooster and I have so many relationships with each other right now. We are co-parents, divorce adversaries (and allies), friends, and exes.  It's a lot to manage. 

Sometimes I have to ask him to not cross the streams when I hear him start a sentence with, "So..." I know it means DIVORCE and depending on which relationship I'm in with him at that moment I might have to say, "Please, can we just put that on hold and just hang today?"  He obliges, but I know he's waiting for the moment when the paradigm shifts and he can get whatever's on his mind out into the space between us.

Sunday was all friend and co-parent day.  Hawk has really melted into our new family structure and no longer clings to one or the other of us when we're all together.  We swam at Barton Springs and ate at a favorite greasy spoon.  When we dropped off Rooster Hawk was sad to see him go and even before we were out of the driveway he was saying he missed his Daddy.

I don't know how many times I've said something like, "I know you miss Daddy, Baby.  I bet it hurts in your heart, huh?"  He'll respond in the affirmative and I'll go on, "Daddy misses you, too.  And when you're with Daddy Mommy misses you and you miss me, too.  We all miss each other these days, but it's ok.  We all love each other and when you're apart from someone you love, sometimes it hurts.  It'll get better, I promise." 

He tells me misses me whenever he's with Rooster and that he loves me very much.  We hug, we hug tighter.  We talk endlessly about MISSING SOMEONE.  Oh God, how it breaks my heart that he's so familiar with this ache; his little, bitty heart.  Missing someone.  GOD.

And then Sunday nights and Monday mornings are heavy-hearted ones for the both of us.  By now Hawk knows that he's going to stay the night with Daddy the night after school on Monday.  He's excited, but then gets quiet.  "I live with Daddy, and you, and Papa-Mimi.  I live in lots of places.  But I really just want to live with you."

I know he doesn't mean it literally -- when he's with Rooster he says the same thing -- but it's his longing, his anticipated missing of me that makes him say such a thing.  He knows he's loved by these three households and loves them all fiercely in return, but his mind is trying to catalog all the players in his life.  It has to make sense in some way.

"When I'm gone living with Daddy you need to be strong," he goes on.  "Don't cry, don't be upset.  I love you and I will miss you, too, but I will see you soon."  I burst into tears and hold him close to me.  Where has this child come from?? This sweet, amazing, brilliant, tender child.

"I will, Baby, I promise, but it's ok if I'm sad, too.  But I'll be ok.  I just love you very much and wish we could be together all the time.  But I want you to be with your daddy, too.  He also loves you very much and misses you when you're with me. This is what we all have to do.  We all have to be tough."

I don't know if I'm rambling, if I'm showing and sharing too much, but I'm overwhelmed.  By his kindness, my feelings, my life.  Fuck, this is hard.

But I know I'm doing something right if Rooster and I can identify our strengths and spend an afternoon together celebrating his fatherhood and if my little boy can self-assuredly pass between me and his father and his grandparents.   I might not always feel like a success, but I think that maybe I might be a bigger happy ending than I give myself credit for.  The job will come in time, but success -- to some degree -- is already here.