DISCLAIMER: I’ve been debating for a few weeks now if I was going to repost these “Mitch Classic” blogisodes from when my marriage ended. I went back and forth between “I don’t want to repost them and relive that experience” to “I should post them to show how far I’ve come since then.” I concluded that Mitch Being Honest is about being honest, and being true to myself and to not post them would be contradictory to my blog premise.
To say it’s been a hectic few weeks in Mitch’s life is an understatement of monumental proportions. Last weekend we moved Mrs. Mitch out and into her own place. Strange, what do I call her now on the blog? She’s keeping my last name for now, so technically she’s still Mrs. Mitch, but calling her that doesn’t feel right. Here’s a few possible blog pseudonyms for Mrs. Mitch:
-The Spouse Formerly Known as Mrs. Mitch, TSFKAMM? No, too long and doesn’t have good word Feng Shui.
-Little Mitch’s Mom. Not bad, not great, but doesn’t convey that we had a 16 year relationship.
-My Ex-Wife. Yuck. I really do not like this term at all. It has such a bad connotation, and really we’re still friends. I don’t want to be one of those divorced people who 8 years after the divorce are still bitterly angry and start every sentence with “Oh yeah, when I was with my Ex she…..”
-Little Mitch’s Co-Parent. Technically, this is the most accurate term for her now. We will be sharing co-parenting of Little Mitch. However, this term feels rather clinical, lacks warmth, and is so politically correct it makes me want to vomit in my soy non dairy organic free trade chai latte. Okay, I admit I’ve never actually had a coffee like that, it was the most politically correct coffee I could think of.
I got it. Take out the “Mrs.” and use “Ms.” That works. “Ms. Mitch.” I like it, simple, clean, no negative connotations, and not overly politically correct. Done. Next order of business.
The question I field most often from people about my upcoming divorce is “how are you doing?” complete with the empathetic 45 degree sideways head tilt. Admit it. Right now you’re thinking, “son of a bitch, he’s right. I totally do that when I’m asking a concerned question.”
How I answer depends on my day. I have my good days, bad days, emotionally tired days, numb days, angry days, sad days, not feeling anything days, want to stress eat everything in the house days, enjoying my new found freedom days, keeping busy with little projects around the house days, stress smoking too much again days, missing physical intimacy days, wasting too much time on the internet because I just don’t have it in me to grieve days, avoiding thinking of the hurt by redecorating our old place to make it my place days, keeping busy hanging out with friends days, keeping my mind occupied watching movies I been meaning to watch for a while days, wanting to cry but I can’t days, not wanting to cry days but I can’t, should probably stop having so many Jim Beam nightcaps before bed days.
Usually though, I just answer that “I’m surviving, I’m doing okay.” with a weak smirk.
A year or so ago we got Little Mitch tested by a couple of child psychologists, turns out my kid who bends over naked, spreads his cheeks and makes his tan brown ass laugh heartily is “gifted.” Now, I know you’re thinking this means some sort of prodigy or wunderkind product of my loins. Not really, the soft sell is some kids ask five questions about dogs smelling other dogs butts, Little Mitch asks twenty five. Sometimes this rampant curiosity is a lot of fun, like when we’re at the children’s library, museum, or science centre.
Other times this unbridled curiosity can be a bit much if unchecked. “Dude, look I’m pretty sure The Incredible Hulk’s penis and testicles are green along with the rest of his body, now please stop asking me questions about superheroes genitals. What? Huh? I don’t know if Superman’s poop is bullet-proof like the rest of him that question is kind of… now that you mention it, that is a darn good question. Let Daddy look that one up on the internet.”
The days I struggle with the most are the “tough questions days.” The other caveat of having a gifted inquisitive child is that they ask questions that cut right to heart of the matter. The thing is, Little Mitch inherited his daddy’s tenacity and you have to answer or he won’t drop it, you can’t distract him, evade the question, or shift his focus, it doesn’t work. He’s like a four and a half year old question Terminator. You just have to answer and be honest with him.
Little Mitch: “Daddy? When are you Mommy going to get married again?”
Mitch: (taking a deep breath, holding back tears) “Well buddy, Mommy and Daddy are not going to be married anymore. We’re not going to get married again either. We’re still a family, we love you, but it was just Mommy and Daddy were fighting a lot and we decided to not be married anymore.”
Little Mitch: “Oh yeah! I get two homes now! I forgot! (thinking for a few seconds) “Daddy, are you ever going to get married again?”
Mitch: (stunned for a few seconds) “Oh wow, buddy. I wasn’t expecting that question. I don’t know buddy. Maybe. Who knows. I might meet someone someday. But right now, probably not for a very long time.”
Little Mitch: “Daddy? How come you don’t cry?”
I was taken aback. I had no answer. I wished he was older and could understand that Daddy is too pissed off right now to cry, but I didn’t want him thinking that I was mad at him in anyway about the divorce.
I have my days.