A Strange Day

For people who have been through the pains of divorce, this post might seem a little impossible. As a matter of fact, those who are still married might find this story a little hard to swallow! But it is, in fact, true. I have never hidden the fact that I live a very unconventional life in an extremely conventional town, but this one might be for the books.

My days are always interesting. I work at a job that brings me in contact with all walks of life, and I love working in such a diverse environment. I am always involved in some sort of fascinating event once I get home from work, being that there are so many people with varied interests and basic needs living in my home.

But then there are the “ex”-tended family members. I speak of the “ex”-husband and the “ex”-wife.

Shortly after I came home from work one day last week, my son informed me that his father was picking him up in a few minutes to take him to the car show in NYC. Almost as if on cue, his dad pulled up in his Mercedes. I walked my son outside and gave him a kiss good-bye. His father rolled down the window with a humorous look of confusion on his face.

“Why did you laugh last week when I told Kayla that I was taking opera lessons?” he queried.

“HA! I don’t know. It just struck me as funny,” I chuckled.

“Heh-heh…um…why?” he continued, his face now becoming very serious.

“Well, I just had visions of when you used to ‘fake’ singing opera, and I guess I never really thought you’d take it seriously.”

With that, he coerced me into coming over to the car so he could show me what he sounded like.

“Oh, you have a recording of it?” I asked.

“No, I’ll sing it for you right now! Kristine got me this music, and I’m gonna sing ‘Oh, Solo Mio’,” he exclaimed as he held up a CD case with nothing but penne pasta on the cover. Italian Karaoke…what will they think of next?

He placed the CD into the dashboard. Within seconds, he was belting out an impressive operatic vocal as my son sat in the passenger seat and gave me some “egad” looks every so often. My neighbor across the street stared at the car in bewilderment as he rolled his garbage down to the curb. "OHHH, SOLO MIO!!!" I stood on my lawn with a bemused look on my face, not able to determine if he was really good, or he was just acting that way.

When the song was over, I complemented him and told him that he probably should’ve taken opera lessons long ago, as his voice seemed to adapt to it quite nicely. He seemed pleased with my complement, and drove off to the car show with my son. I walked up my lawn toward my front door and started to laugh, just thinking how funny it was that my ex-husband was having a Luciano Pavoratti moment in front of my house…and that I just gave my neighbors one more thing to talk about.

About a half hour later, the other ex stopped by to see her daughter. Exhausted from working as a nanny to two small children all day, she plopped down in a chair in my stepdaughter’s room and tried to start a conversation with her. Eventually, an argument ensued about money and clothes and things that are of major importance to an almost fourteen-year-old that really aren’t all that life-altering to an adult. I admit; I hear them argue almost every day. And I do remember what it was like to have that almost-fourteen-year-old myself…I think whoever teaches the eighth grade is either a pure saint, or they’re completely out of their minds. I always mind my own business, and let them work their problems out on their own. But on this particular day, my stepdaughter hit below the belt regarding money and her father’s chosen profession. Now it became my business, and I marched myself into her room with a look of pure disappointment across my face. I stated my case to her, stuck up for her mom a little bit, told her I loved her and reminded her that she should appreciate all of the wonderful things that she has in her life instead of worrying about everything that she doesn’t have (which wouldn’t affect the quality of her life one way or the other, anyway). I left the room and went to pick up my daughter at work. By the time I came back to the house, the mother was sitting on my couch with her daughter lying in her lap as she stroked her hair. “We’re having a peaceful moment,” she tiredly confessed. I left them alone, and went to the kitchen to speak with my husband who had just come home from work.

“…I think we should ask Tina to come to dinner with us,” I weakly stated.

“Okay. That’s fine,” he replied. I was shocked that he answered so quickly…and so positively.

It was our “Thursday night” dinner night, our Pietro’s pizza-fest, our sacred night of family bonding to which strangers were not easily invited. We are very protective of our quality time together, being that it’s the one night that we are all in the same room at the same time. To let someone else share in our tradition was…well…it was the right thing to do that night. Tina was gracious and thankful that she would be able to spend some time with her children. She expressed her appreciation over and over again, and finally gave me a hug and said, “I’m so happy that we can all get along like this.” My thoughts exactly. But we’re not done yet.

We met up with my stepson at the pizza parlor. He was a little surprised to see his mom there, but sat next to her and gave her a kiss hello. My daughter’s boyfriend was in town from school, so he attended this gathering as well. We were all engrossed in various conversations, when the door opened and my son walked in…followed by none other than the other ex…his father. We invited him to sit down and have some pizza, and although he declined at first, he finally sat and ate along with the rest of us. My daughter commented to her boyfriend and I that people wouldn’t believe that we could all sit together like this and enjoy each other’s company. It was really weird, she said. I told her I thought it was great.

Although this day was interesting, to say the least, I will always remember it as a precursor to the various important family events that we will all be tied to in the future—marriages, first home purchases, grandchildren, just to name a few—and I am ever so grateful that our children’s milestones will be reached with a peaceful family to support them. It may be weird, but it works.



(From left to right: David the ex, Dylan, Kristin, Mike the boyfriend, Kayla, me, my husband Al, Al's son David and Tina the ex)