The Merchild and Her Questions

“Mamma, have you ever been married?”

E was four years old, and it was the first time she asked one of the questions that I had known would come since her dad and I split up a month after her first birthday. I didn’t know when the questions would start, or what form they would take, but I knew she would have them and I would have to explain to her that her dad and I were not just two people living in separate houses who both just happened to be her parents. I will say that I did not expect her to ask me such a pointed question about my marital history, but that is the thing about E: she never fails to surprise me.

As such, I remember damn near everything about that moment: I remember it was the first really nice day of spring, and we had spent a strangely pleasant afternoon on the lawn of our favorite brewery with E’s dad (yup, we occasionally socialize for her benefit). I remember the warmth of the sun and the scent of new earth, and E and I went for ice cream with my sister, who had also joined us on the excursion, afterward.

It was on the drive to get ice cream that E asked her question – out of absolutely nowhere, I might add. I was so caught off guard that I repeated the question back to her. Nope, I heard her correctly; my preschooler had just asked me if I had “ever been married.” In retrospect, this was about six weeks before said sister’s wedding, in which E would be a flower girl, and my cousin had gotten married a few months prior, so perhaps weddings were on her mind. Honestly, I will never fully understand how the gears in her head turn, I just know that it often humbles me and forces me to stay on my toes.

I tried to keep my voice as even as possible. “Yes…I’ve been married. But I’m not anymore.”

“Oh!” Her surprise was genuine. “Who were you married to?”

A perfectly reasonable follow-up question, but it still further frayed the calm demeanor I was trying to cling to. “Um. I was married to your dad.”

“Oh. My. Gosh. I did not know that!”

She didn’t ask or comment anything further, then we pulled into the parking lot of the ice cream stand.  I was kind of glad I had a witness, because it gave me someone to exchange glances of shocked amusement with when E wasn’t paying attention.

While that was the first time E ever asked me about my personal experience with marriage, and when she learned her dad and I had a relationship outside of her, it was not the last. Truthfully, I had thought the silver lining in getting divorced while my kid was still in diapers might be that she would never know a different life, and therefore couldn’t miss living with her mom and dad under one roof.

Well, my child has proven my assumption to be comically false, many times over. Last summer, around the time I got engaged to my now-spouse, she discovered The Parent Trap (the Lindsay Lohan remake; have you seen the original?? It hasn’t aged well) and that intensified her questions.

“Why did you and my dad break up?” (“Some people work better together if they’re not married, and your dad and I are like that.”)

“Why are you having two weddings?” (“Sometimes people decide to get married again after getting divorced. And now I get to have you there!”)

“Are you my dad’s girlfriend, too?” (“No, being one man’s girlfriend is more than enough for me.”)

“How are babies born?” (Seriously. The kid does not quit.)

These are not questions that a parent in a nuclear family will ever have to face (except for the last one, that is universal!), and I am in the unenviable position of formulating answers that strike a delicate balance of:

• First and foremost, being honest,
• Being age-appropriate,
• Remaining neutral on a subject that is indelibly tied to the most painful chapter of my life to date (NBD, right?), and
• Protecting my own personal boundaries…intentionally listed last because what even are boundaries when it is just you and your kid?

Over time, I have gotten better at giving simple, respectful responses to tough questions posed by a tiny person while staying true to these values. Usually, I’m able to do it in the moment. If it’s an inopportune time or I need more than two seconds to formulate a response, I ask her if we can talk about it later (and then we do). A couple times when it’s just felt too personal and it’s truly irrelevant to her, I’ve answered her question with the question, “Is it important for you to know?” and she has actually admitted that it’s not and let it go. (This kind of scenario came up more often when I was dating, and she asked something like who I had dinner with while she was at her dad’s, etc.)

I have also, somewhat reluctantly, recently become more comfortable with simply giving her the old, “I’ll tell you when you’re older.” Because there are just some things my six-year-old does not need to know, regardless of how tight our bond is…although, between you and me, it will be kind of cool to one day go out with her when she’s all grown up and spill a l l   o f   t h e   t e a. Maybe she’ll even pick up the tab for once. But for now, we just have tea parties.

I am not here to tell you that I have it all figured out, because I don’t. Yes, I have learned a few things along the way but I am still learning, and I think I always be. Because the challenges of parenthood never cease, and that is especially true for parents leading non-traditional families.