Reality Mom: Don't ask, don't tell
My parents are the opposite of helicopter parents. On a high school trip to a foreign country, all of the students lined up at the hotel’s only pay phone while I read a book.
“Don’t you need to call your parents?” a friend asked.
“No, I replied. “My mom says ‘no news is good news.’ I think it would worry her if I called.”
Without ever explicitly stating them, because that would involve talking, our family has several untouchable topics. The most recent one is my divorce. For two years, I have circumnavigated conversations around any area of my life that is “post-divorce.” Kids and work are always safe topics. I can even talk about my ex, who my parents still see regularly, as long as it’s not connected to the “D” word.
I knew I was reliving my adolescence when I first separated from my husband. Having terrorized my parents the first time around, I thought it was only fair that I spared them the second time. I’d occasionally dare a “ha-ha” dating story, but never mentioned the man’s name or insinuated at an actual relationship with him. “He” remained nebulous and the point of the story was usually “obviously that didn’t work out.”