Was it Because of the President?

I’ve managed to navigate life's “messy” questions about death, religion, and where babies come from through my journey of motherhood so far, but there was one question I could never mentally prepare myself for regarding my divorce:

“Was it because of the President?”

That’s right, my seven-year-old decided to throw me a curveball at 10pm on a random Thursday night, after she had been tucked nicely into her bed, where we thought she’d fall into a peaceful slumber.

Apparently, she had a burning question on her mind that just couldn’t wait until morning.

So, she scampered out of her room, down the hall, and came up to her stepfather and me, who were trying to enjoy a quiet adult-friendly evening together, and tossed a grenade right at our feet.

"Why did you and my dad break up? Did you not like each other anymore? Was it because of the President?" she asked, so innocent, standing there in her “I’m not tired” cat pajamas.

My heart dropped for a moment.

I truly was not prepared for this discussion tonight, but I have always vowed to be open and honest, to an appropriate level, with my children.

I always said I’d not shy away from the tough questions, and I hadn’t up until this point.

This was the hardest one to answer, however, and not because I didn’t know the reason, I did, as I am the one who asked for the divorce, but because the truth was far more complex.

Trying to unravel 16 years into a child-friendly explanation caused my head to spin. How do I approach this? How honest should I be?

I had no clue what was going to come out of my mouth, but I took a deep breath, gave her an empathetic smile, and said, "Sorta, but it was because we didn't agree on a lot of important topics, including the president.

I continued with “The truth is, we just grew apart instead of together and stopped liking the same things. We stopped believing the same things, and just weren't happy together anymore."

She ponders the explanation for a moment before running back to her room to grab two stuffed animals. I think I’m off the hook, and her question has been satiated; however, she quickly reappears.

She is holding one stuffed animal in each hand, pointing them directly at me before saying, "Was it like this?" As she uses the stuffies to act out a disagreement about Giraffes.

"I like Giraffes!" she says through a monkey, to represent myself.

"Well, I DON'T like Giraffes. I think they are ugly." She scoffs, speaking through the Sonic the Hedgehog character, Knuckles, who is representing her father.

She then has the two fight one another with epic sound effects included over their disagreement over the long-necked beauties.

“Kapow! Take that! Who doesn’t like Giraffes?! Ack! Ouch! Mwahaha,” she continued.

Appreciating the show, but also ready for the conversation to be over, I responded with "Yep, pretty much exactly like that. Except we didn't fight, we just disagreed and didn't speak to each other.”

“We were like roommates, living in the same house but not wanting to be around each other and do the same things. Like how your dad likes to play video games, and I like to cross-stitch.” I continued.

“Or how he likes to go to the gym, but I don't.” I finished with the list of comparisons I could come up with at the last second. “We didn't have things in common anymore, so it made it hard to enjoy being together, and eventually, we decided we’d be better off apart as I didn’t want to keep living with someone I no longer felt close to."

"Okay, that makes sense. But you and Dan still like the same things, right?" she then asked about my current husband, who I was seated next to, and had tears in his eyes from the conversation.

"Yes, my love, Dan and I love the same things, we believe the same things, and we have so much in common. We both love Giraffes, and that will never change.” I said, keeping the Giraffe theme going for a moment longer.

“But also, Dan and I work really hard to make sure we talk all the time. If we have a problem or something makes us mad or sad, we bring it up and work it out.” I added to open the conversation about what a healthy marriage looks like for her own future.

“So even if we were to start to not like each other or the same things, we would work on it and find a solution so we don't break up,” I said, finally concluding my monologue.

I followed it up with the reassurance that “This marriage is different, my love, I promise."

I wasn’t just placating her either. This truly is a different marriage, not only because my brain fully developed throughout the years, but also because of WHO I married this time.

We are two neurodivergents with weird brains that somehow match, make sense, and are happily living life on our own weird terms and timeline.

The huge smile that spread across her adorable, lightly freckled face reassured me she was going to be alright.

The explanation was enough to satisfy her pressing question, but what I really wanted to say was, "Well, I met your dad at 20 years old and left in my late 30s, and I don't even recognize 20-year-old me anymore.

I’ve grown so much as a human, wife, mother, and woman. I know myself, and I know my worth.

October 2024. I found my weirdo. All Rights Reserved.

And I met Dan at 38, so I know myself well enough to know how to make this marriage last and have it be happy, healthy, and thriving.”

But of course, that is too much for a seven-year-old to comprehend, so not agreeing on Giraffes or blaming who is president as the reason for my divorce, it is.

Over the past two years, since I left their father, my children have helped me realize kids are far more resilient than we give them credit for, and they understand complicated subjects better than some adults.

We don’t have to hide things, overly sugarcoat difficult topics, or stay in unhappy relationships for the sake of our kids.

The kids are going to be alright as long as we are alright.