Suburban Snapshots: Being Grown Up

Wednesday, June 02, 2010

Every now and then I email one of my exes — the only one I still have an actual friendship with, anyway — to see how he's doing. He has a little boy who's about 8 months younger than Anna, and it's fun to relate to someone from such a different part of my past in this new, adult way.

I dropped him a line today to see how things have been going, and found out that he's in the midst of a separation from his wife. In my head I itemized his qualities, his family, and his baby, and I felt genuinely sad for them. It struck me that this was a pretty grown-up reaction. In the past when hearing about an ex's failed relationship I'd be all, "Yeah byatch, that's because I was the best thing that ever happened to you." I didn't try to speculate which of his flaws led to the breakdown, the annoying habits that his wife couldn't tolerate, or whether the baby was meant to save them.

Now, thinking about trying to manage a difficult relationship with a toddler in the middle, not living with your own kid and still trying to be a parent, I can't imagine what kind of challenge it must be. I pictured him, leaving the home they'd made together, where their son has a bedroom, and moving blocks away to a barely-furnished rental. I imagined what it must be like raising a toddler mostly on your own as she's doing now. I picture the few hours twice a week I'm alone with Anna, how they're either packed with easy giggles and smooth bedtimes or filled with stomping defiance and relentless demands. I wonder what it's like when someone doesn't come home to hear about it.

I've written before that I can't imagine breaking up, and I especially can't imagine it with Anna involved. But it happens, it's happened to close friends and to distant exes. It makes me wonder what it is that takes a few years of marriage to realize about the other person. I feel like the arguments Steve and I have are usually the same, they're pretty steady; I don't think one day I'm going to find a non-recyclable container in the recycle pile and decide to pack my bags. I hope he won't serve me papers for leaving the sponge in the sink, or forgetting wet clothes in the washer.

My ex and his ex will work out whatever arrangement is best for all three of them, though I'm not sure how once your identity is based around being a parent you go about functioning in a world apart from your family. I imagine it's a whole other kind of growing up.

I dropped him a line today to see how things have been going, and found out that he's in the midst of a separation from his wife. In my head I itemized his qualities, his family, and his baby, and I felt genuinely sad for them. It struck me that this was a pretty grown-up reaction. In the past when hearing about an ex's failed relationship I'd be all, "Yeah byatch, that's because I was the best thing that ever happened to you." I didn't try to speculate which of his flaws led to the breakdown, the annoying habits that his wife couldn't tolerate, or whether the baby was meant to save them.

Now, thinking about trying to manage a difficult relationship with a toddler in the middle, not living with your own kid and still trying to be a parent, I can't imagine what kind of challenge it must be. I pictured him, leaving the home they'd made together, where their son has a bedroom, and moving blocks away to a barely-furnished rental. I imagined what it must be like raising a toddler mostly on your own as she's doing now. I picture the few hours twice a week I'm alone with Anna, how they're either packed with easy giggles and smooth bedtimes or filled with stomping defiance and relentless demands. I wonder what it's like when someone doesn't come home to hear about it.

I've written before that I can't imagine breaking up, and I especially can't imagine it with Anna involved. But it happens, it's happened to close friends and to distant exes. It makes me wonder what it is that takes a few years of marriage to realize about the other person. I feel like the arguments Steve and I have are usually the same, they're pretty steady; I don't think one day I'm going to find a non-recyclable container in the recycle pile and decide to pack my bags. I hope he won't serve me papers for leaving the sponge in the sink, or forgetting wet clothes in the washer.

My ex and his ex will work out whatever arrangement is best for all three of them, though I'm not sure how once your identity is based around being a parent you go about functioning in a world apart from your family. I imagine it's a whole other kind of growing up.