So, your parents are splitting up?

Unless you live in India or Sri Lanka, where only 1% of marriages end up in divorces, you have close to one chance out of four 4 to witness your (once-loving) parents fighting over guardianship and alimonies.

Life as you've known it so far is going to change drastically. You might be swamped by this tsunami or you might try and protect yourself as much as possible so that you find a way to ponder what is really essential and keep your life as a kid as innocent as possible.

It is normally parents' business to look after their child's interest, but in times as dramatic as a break-up, they loose control of their own reality, hence find it difficult to deal with their children's emotions as well as their own.

So, read on and find some answers to questions you may have.

Is it my fault?

You might have heard your parents arguing over you, what you do or wear, how you should be doing at school, what you eat etc. So, it is natural that you feel like blaming yourself when your parents announce, after years of battling over "whose fault is it that he can't make his own bed?" that they are splitting up.

So, is it? Are you to blame for your parents' lack of happiness?
Force is to realise that it would be quite presumptuous to think so. Adults are well able to make themselves feel miserable without relying on the help of a kid. You were not around when they met and even if they claimed that you were the glue that kept them together, their splitting up can't realistically be the result of your actions.
So what happened? Was It the Chocolate Pudding? (read the book, it is meant for small kids, yet, it is enlightening).

It s difficult to know why people suddenly change and start hating each other. But the reality is that something did happen and it has nothing to do with you. Parents are big people who should be able to look after themselves and take their own decisions.

So, here it goes: no, not your fault! If you can't really see it, take my word for it!

Who to pick?

Mum has always been there, but she has so many rules. Dad is fun to be around but he does not get you to bed on time, and the fridge is always empty.
When Dad calls and asks you to visit, Mum smiles sadly and leaves the room to hide and cry in the bathroom. When you laugh with Mum and cuddle watching a movie, you can't help but think of Dad who is... well, you actually don't know, where is he? Does he miss you?

This is called loyalty. You have loyalty issues and somehow, you end up unhappy no matter what you chose. There is a down side to every choice and this started the day your parents split up your family.

So, now what?
Let the judges decide. They will say (in agreement with your parents) who you will have and when and where. This is the law and it has nothing to do with you, and you cannot change it. The law is there to protect children and give parents equal rights as far as bringing up their child is concerned.

It might be difficult to adjust at first, but you will soon know how to prepare in advance for a week-end at Dad's or an overnight at Mum's. Should there be a problem, you can chose to talk to your parents or grand-parents or teachers. Sometimes talking about it helps.
You will end up having two houses, you are bound to forget stuff here or there, and miss them when you don't have them. Ask your parents for help. Think about it, they too have to adjust, it might make them feel better to know that they are not the only ones.

I think it is advisable to have one home, one bedroom. But the judges have been known to take different decisions and parents don't want to miss out on watching their kids grow. This is a pity (in my opinion) because a child needs stability, not two hotel rooms in two different bed and breakfasts. So, if at all possible, have one place that you can call home, where everything is settled and usual, and have a get away at the other parent's house. That should make your life easier.

What if things are not that pink and wonderful?

Some divorces are ugly, dirty and destructive, even more than just plain horrible. So, what can a kid do faced with all the aggressiveness, the nasty words, the fights? Let's admit it, at times, adults revert to their childhood tantrums when it comes to letting someone they love go, and an adult behaving like a two-year old is simply pathetic.

However, they are your parents, they have power, and sometimes, they use it wrongly. You need to know that no one in their right mind should use a child to hurt another adult. No matter how much that other adult has wounded them, no matter how much they think this person has hurt them. There are always two sides to a coin. Using a child changes him into a porcelain doll, and these are breakable. At some point, they are bound to let the doll drop, to make a point or simply because they can, and the doll will be broken, irreversibly.

So, there you are, stuck in the middle of the two giants you love more than anything. Every pick-up or drop-off is an opportunity for them to grab weapons and have a go at each other, making you feel horrible in the course of the escalating drama.

In this situation, you might feel like reacting to the emotions that are overwhelming. After all, who should you open your heart to? There seems to be no elected listener. Many children at this point turn to violence, hurting others or themselves as a way to offer an outlet to pain. They might steal, or escape, close themselves in silence, feel depressed. Needless to say, these kids are no fun to be around!

Try to duck all the attacks, if there are any. Stay away from the destructive path until someone notices your presence. If you feel they might listen to you, remind your parents that you do not like to see them hurting each other and they are potentially damaging you. But, more than anything, do not worry if you say or do something to one parent without even knowing why. You might tell your Mum you hate her, you might hang up the phone on your Dad. These are tools you use to protect them or protect yourself. They, as the adults in charge, should be able to "read" you, help you, or take you to someone who can do so.

The only silver lining in this situation is that, no matter how bad it seems at the time when it is going on, things do calm down eventually. They will both regain their self-esteem and find a way to go on with their lives. Is that helping you? Probably not, but you need to know that it will get better, I promise.

What can a child say?

You might feel powerless through the fighting, the divorce and the dividing that follows: sharing of money, property, cars, kids... you might feel like just another piece of their belongings they want to get or they just don't want the other one to enjoy.

Do you have your say in this division episode? Probably not. Mother Justice has been known to make dramatic mistakes at times, but in general, the authorities try and decide in the best interest of the child. God protect us all from unfair decisions!

Most important for you is to realize that your time together as a family is over and you now can recall the good old times, but you should not force your parents to "play" happy family for your benefit. You might get to have this one of those days, but I would be very careful in asking for a reunion when the drama is still hot in everyone's plate.

If you can, try and talk to your parents when they are calm. Blaming them won't help, but you can still do something to support their sadness, their anger. Propose simple things to do together: a walk, a pizza at the local restaurant, a game of Frisbee etc. Explain to them that this would make you happy to share a moment with them, and enjoy each other's presence. This should remind your parents about your well-being without creating more guilt for them.

It will take a while, but as with everything, time will help you to live and get accustomed to the new elements in your life. At the end, you will witness each parent, separated but happy again, and you will enjoy the double birthday celebrations, the bigger loads of presents on graduation day. So, just hang in there and keep your chin up.

Help! My Son is Alienated!

-       "Mummy, where you there when I was born?“ 

My 4-year old son is standing in front of me, just woken up and rubbing his eyes.

I smile and cuddle him, shuffle his hair and ask if he wants breakfast. I do all this gently, softly, lovingly. Inside my head, through my pierced heart, every neuron, every blood cell is screaming "WHAT?“

I wish I could scream:

 - "Whose belly was it the doctor cut open to find you? Whose skin was stapled back like the seven pages of a contract bonding you and me forever once you were seeing the light?"

I am chocking on acid flooding into my mouth.

 - "Who spent three hours in the reanimation room while "he“, the hated man I did not want to even look at you, was playing "Dad“ and giving you a bath? He knew very well he had nothing to do with your happening into my life, yet, he played a role, he threatened me and the people I loved to cover up his uselessness"

But I gather all my love for him, take him up in my arms and I rock him from side to side:

-       "Yes, Baby, I was there when you were born, I made you. I was there all the time.“

-       "Ah... OK!“

He wiggles to get down and sits at the table, smiling and asking for his bowl of hot chocolate.

As my body automatically follows on auto-pilot, heats up water, pours chocolate powder, starts a toast... my brain is racing. This has been a constant state of mind for me, from the time I have known I was pregnant. On the one hand, I do what everyone "expects“ from me, on the other hand, my mind lives in its own space and time.

A space where I am with my child, where I can be his mother and am "allowed“ to do what other Mums do. A time when his father is with us, smiling and laughing and telling him stories from his culture. I have never been to Africa but he told me about it, and he tells our son about it, when we meet during holidays, when my life gets a window of normality, when I am free to be who I want to be.

But reality hits me in the face constantly, and, in order not to go totally insane, not to bang my head against the walls or worse, whatever worse a mother can do to save her child, I must smile and nod and not forget to show love to my little bundle of joy who is babbling away, telling me about his dreams and aspirations.

I am a mother, who is deprived of all the rights of motherhood as long as the oppressor is awake. Thank God, he sleeps most of the day, but then the circus starts at about 5 PM and goes on restlessly until the wee hours of the morning,  when he finally runs out of reasons to keep me awake, or when I finally slam the bedroom door hard enough that he decides all else will have to wait until tomorrow’s drama unfolds... inevitably.

I am a teacher, who is deprived of any influence on my growing boy. I am an Early Years specialist, I give classes to adults about parenting a young child, and I am denied interacting with my son, I am denied having an influence on any part of his day, what he eats, what he does, when he goes to sleep or how he naps. I teach other parents, but I am not allowed to practice my teachings.

"He“, however, gets all authority. If I refute what he says, he goes to his computer, where the "Internet people“ are so much more clever than me. He surfs and browses forums and I have to sit and listen. He prints out pages and pages so that I can "educate myself.“

I am a modern educator, I do not believe in drilling children, I work on a different pedagogical method with my students. I am in favor of letting children find their way, teaching them by role modeling, encouraging, and inspiring, letting them explore and discover, guiding them.  

At home, however, I see my son sitting on a chair, reciting the alphabet, not by heart, not as a song, but as a drill that he must repeat for about one hour every day. Tears roll down his eyes, he is scared to move, worried to miss one letter. He is staring at the alphabet, two pages of pain that he suffers every evening when he should be in bed.

I try not to discuss in front of my son, but somehow, "he“ always makes sure my baby's around when he starts his "lectures." When I still resist and try to explain my point of view and why I think I am right and I would like to follow my methods, he looks at me, smiling:

-       "Yeah, you can always try, it is not me, you know, but he won’t let you, he is also more clever than you. And you start to look crazy, anyway, look at you! Doesn't she, boy?“

Yes it is true, at this point in the conversation, my eyes are probably watery, my neck is stretched out in a fighting position, my arms are stiff by my side... I indeed must look crazy... and stupid too.

My eyes fall down on my son, sitting beside this man I refuse in our life. I melt down. Oh, how much I love this little boy and how much I want to let him enjoy what I know about babies, their needs and their development! How much I wish to wipe the tears off his sweet face!

The muscles in my arms soften, and my body slumps.

Rage unfurls inside me refusing this life I can’t stand, but on the outside, there is so much love for this son. I will never do anything to hurt him. He can’t understand this now, but one day (I sincerely hope so!) he will know that I did the right thing by not continuing the numerous fights in his presence. I spin around and escape to the bedroom, frustrated, I hear the detested voice:

-       "Yes, and she is gone again, that’s her answer to every problem she creates, what do you think, boy?“

More than his words, the silence that follows tears my heart. My son is growing used to this. I can see he tries not to get involved, he shuts down when he hears the discussions starting.

What am I doing to him? How to get out of this?

I close my eyes and I go back to my own space and time. A space where "he“ is not there, a time when I am a mother who is given the gift of a life with her baby. 

The Making of a Single Mum

In 2007, I left my ex-husband and the country where I had been living and working for five years, to start a new life in Switzerland.

I journeyed for 36 hours in a rented car from Warsaw to Geneva. I loaded the car with our meager belongings (what was left of it... what I could salvage) : my books, some clothes, a couple of toys, plates and glasses, towels. Early that morning, I shoved my kid in the back seat, and when he started to cry, I tried to calm him down by saying:
 -"I know how you feel, but this is the best for us." Out of arguments, my last try: "Trust me!"

How could he? He had been on this earth for five years and a bit, and during his entire life, he had heard how my patriarchal husband put me down, he had seen me physically hurt by someone who was supposed to love me until death would do us part. But more than anything, he had seen my trying to compromise and amend, apologizing, trying to find solace in this horrid home life, crying myself to sleep. Why would he trust me?

This was my last chance to have a life. A life where I would be free of fear, free of worry, and able to live my dreams, whatever they were.

My stomach ached when we would be having breakfast and he'd ask:
 - "Can I have some powder chocolate on my toast, quick before he wakes up?" and his eyes would be worryingly checking the corridor "just in case" for this once, the patriarch would wake up before 5PM.

Why would he trust me?

We used to sneak out of the apartment, early morning on Sundays. He, on his bike, and me, with a smile on my face and my camera in my hand. We would go to the woods, count acorns for his week-end Math homework, measure tree trunks and compare twigs with our arms, and more than anything else, breathe.
After one hour, I would start worrying in case "he" would wake up and not find us at home. I'd start feeling edgy and we'd hurry back, without a word, quietly hoping that he would still be asleep.
One day, he woke up as we reached home and forbid us to ever sneak out again without having first asked him if he would like to join us. He accused me of "stealing his time away from my son". Oh, yes, he had this miraculous talent to twist reality around!
The following Sunday, I woke him up, he said we should wait for him. He got up around 5PM and when I said it was too late to go, he replied:
 - "Well, then, next time, don't make such a fuss about your Sunday expedition!"
That was the end of our free time in the woods. 

Why would my son trust me?

When I pulled out in front of our new house in Geneva, it was 5:30PM and we were exhausted. Me from driving, my son from crying.
That night, we sat in the dark, on the carpet of the empty living room, and nibbled on a pack of left-over crisps, feeling miserable. We had nothing, but I had my son, we had each other. I had the certitude this was the start of our new life, but somehow, I had diddly squat to show for it. My son looked very sad and it broke my heart.

The next day at 8AM, I started my new job, and my son started his new school.

To be continued...