For as long as I can remember, my parents have hated each other. There was always a mutual distaste that loomed over them, and it was something that never struck me as odd. If anything, I thought it was uncomfortable when I would see parents of my friends having some sort of genuine love for each other. I am not saying this is normal, but it just was.
After I got married, I was sure that my husband and I would remain affectionate and comfortably, contently, in love in front of the eyes of our children. This hope was merely a fantasy that was never realized. Before my children were even capable of understanding the world (and before my daughter was even born) my husband and I were no longer an us.
It has taken a few years, but now my ex-husband and I are in a friendly place. Living together means that there are times where we are best friends, and times where we want to claw each others eyes out (although I am usually the feisty one that is hell-bent on destruction). But the question I always ask myself is; am I supposed to hate my ex-husband, and he, me? Well, apparently according our parent’s generation. Even after 20 years of being divorced, my mother still relishes the day my father will just be kaput already. My mother is the sweetest human being in the world, but my father really is a shit that seems to create more trouble than anything. I understand why my mother hates my father, but it makes me wonder why she would have ever marry anyone like that in the first place.
My children only witness the occasional shouting matches between their mother and father, which I would say is an improvement, but we attempt to limit those occasional freakout. I do wonder what my children will think of all of this when they are a little more aware of the situation. Obviously the living arrangement is temporary, and I am sure that the new wife is dying to have a stab at a normal married life, but for now, it is what it is.
A year and a half ago, I was not even sure where I was going to be living, let alone, think that I would still be living with the father of my children (perish the thought). There was a time when I actually considered moving to the other side of the country to a place called Greenville, South Carolina. I thought it would be a nice change for me and the kids. The small town charms almost drew me in, I was so close to being convinced, and then reality set in. I had no one in Greenville, South Carolina. Actually, I had one friend that I knew who lived there, but he is not the type of person you can depend on being a beam of support. If I had moved there, I would have been a lonely shell of a mess, with no one to help me with two rambunctious toddlers.
Moving with my ex was the best choice for so many reasons; I was able to move to a state I had never lived, which provided me with the need to escape the life I was living. I have someone who will always help me with the kids, because they are his kids too, and I also found that the state of Washington is just unbeatable in its beauty.
So there are times when I do hate my ex-husband, but there are also times where we can play a four hour game of Monopoly and have a blast. To me, I think children deserve that from their parents, just two people that can play a board game with each other.