Sick day equals time for TV. I guess I'd forgotten that daytime television really is crap. But I just saw something rather compelling. On The Bonnie Hunt Show, Denis Leary claimed the key to the success of his marriage is that he and his wife agreed to never divorce. My first thought was "That's brilliant, Denis." But there could be something to it.

Apparently, Leary thinks the divorce rate is high simply because divorce is an option. If it weren't an option, you'd find ways to make your marriage work.

Tell that to the women stuck in abusive relationships. Hopefully, he'd give them special dispensation.

I kind of hated what he said. But I've learned strong reactions can come from fear of the truth. So why not investigate?

I change my mind so often about Rob and me it's embarrassing. What if we lived by the Denis Leary rule? Would we settle in to this marriage more easily and enjoy ourselves? If we stopped hedging about our long-term chances, could we get on with life? Get a dog? Buy a condo? Start a family?

Truth is, I can't imagine feeling sure about Rob and me. Perhaps certainty about anything is just not in my nature. Maybe I'm too analytical. Or is it inherent dissatisfaction? I'd hate to think I'm just a negative Nellie come what may, but who knows? 

Perhaps an experiment is in order: Take the idea of separation off the table for a few weeks and see what develops.

While I'm still spewing gratitude onto the page, I must thank FWW co-founder Debbie Nigro's daughter Alexis for stopping by to share her view of the Thanksgiving Day Tour De Family last week.

Of all the things I've gained from spending hours here at FWW, and there are too many to detail in the space of one post, the thing I most love is the perspective it brings.

The moments when my understanding of myself and of the world is expanded by getting close in on a point of view I have not lived. This is truly a gift.

So thanks, Alexis, on behalf of every parent who has ever agonized about leaving a marriage for fear of how it will impact their small kids. Thanks for reminding us not only that this change does not have to undo them, it can actually be a positive.

It's easy to forget how it's us grown-ups who attach all the baggage, feel all the agony of unmet expectations, in a split. It's our vision of the way things should be that gets torn in half.

Young kids only know what they know. To them, their family and their homes look exactly as they should look. Are exactly as they should be, the only way they ever could be.

My kids split time between two households for two years. One was 20 months old when we separated, the other was four and a half, and guess what? Sure, they like having all of us together in one house, but I'm not sure they like it better than having two places.

They like it differently.

And take note all you parents who are terrified about shattering the only reality your children have ever known; it is possible for you do it without shattering them.

My kids have told me more than once these last few months back together that they miss their old houses. They liked having two houses, two neighborhoods, two sets of friends, two different lives.

My husband and kids are coming upstairs. I'm in the kitchen preparing lunch and it sounds like my husband is having a rough time compelling my daughter up the stairs. He's losing his patience and my daughter is starting to freak out. Suddenly I hear my daughter cry and she runs up the stairs.   

"Daddy hurt me!" she yells, crying and hugging my legs.

Let me make sure you understand something: We don't hit our kids. My husband has never laid a hand on our kids in anger or discipline, so my guess is that he was carrying our son up the stairs and stumbled over our daughter. So the issue here isn't that my husband beats our kids, because he most certainly does not.

No, the issue here is how my husband reacts to this situation. Suddenly he's in front of me, saying, "I didn't hurt her! I didn't hurt her!" He sounds like our three-year-old son. For a brief moment, I have three kids instead of two. This is a common scenario when my husband gets frustrated with our daughter. His reasoning and reaction is temporarily comparable to a preschooler. It's maddening.

I wish he would remain the adult when dealing with our kids. I understand sometimes losing patience and getting frustrated, but my first instinct when my daughter is hurt is to help her to feel better and then deal with the details afterwards.

I'm not going to stand over her and argue whether she's really hurt or not. I'm going to make sure she's okay and then talk about what happened. If I had stumbled over her on the stairs I would apologize profusely instead of expending so much energy making sure everyone around me knew that it wasn't my fault.

In an instance like this where my daughter is hurt and my husband is also seeking my attention, my first priority will always be my daughter.  I don't know if that makes me a bad wife, but my husband is an adult and my daughter is four. Who would you turn your attention to?

Okay, that last one was a quick post. When I wrote last weekend I was still in the midst of the family frenzy that is the holidays. No time to think, only DO!

Turns out Thanksgiving weekend was a great time despite the awkward moments and challenges endemic to the family only a year or two into divorce. 

Of course, the divorce in my family is my mother and father's divorce. And if this past holiday is a litmus test, it seems we're all still okay despite them deciding to tear the family apart. (Okay, I'm being dramatic. I've admitted I'm glad they split — they should have years ago.)

I need to take heed that good times didn't end when my parents divorced, for the holidays inevitably invite a downward spiral in my journey as a contemplator. There's nothing worse during the holidays for someone considering separation — it's the worst time to be caught between staying and leaving.

Twinkling tree lights, eggnog, and brass carols can remind me of childhood, of love, of warmth. But when you think it might be your last holiday with this particular mate in this particular home where you've put such a good faith effort into loving and celebrating, it's nothing if not bittersweet.

So one moment you're sad, but the next you're putting on a good face and trying — REALLY TRYING! — to enjoy the season. For meaningful connection this holiday season just might be the cement that turns your flimsy relationship into a rock-steady marriage ready to support growth and kids and a whole generation's worth of holidays.

It's my dream: A big family full of kids of all ages romping about the house as turkey dinner cooks, later coming home from college with their mates, and eventually bringing home children of their own.

No kids yet, so I'm not sure how I'm going to get there.  

One of the things that pulled my husband and me apart was his fascination and obsession with online video games. These were the games where he could socialize with other people and spend seven or eight hours a night running around in his alternate reality, dueling monsters and hooking up with female avatars. 

When I tried to leave the marriage he decided — on his own — to stop playing video games altogether. He sold his gaming systems and uninstalled all the games off his computer. That was months ago, and although I'm pretty sure he's played some video games at friends' houses, as far as I know, he didn't play any games at home.

The other night we were having a conversation and got on the subject of video games. He said he missed the games and if given a chance he wouldn't play them as vigorously as before. I said that he's an adult, and he needs to make the decision of whether he would ever play again. I told him that he had made the decision to stop altogether, so ultimately it's up to him.

Lo and behold, a couple of days later he's loading video games onto the computer.

I'm terrified. One of the huge steps my husband took in an attempt to earn my trust back was to stop playing video games. Has he turned back to video games since I'm still not all lovey-dovey with him, or does he think that me telling him that he's an adult and can make his own decisions is actually a veiled endorsement of video games?

I'm bracing myself because if he falls back into the old habits of caring more about a stinking video game than he does about his real life then I don't think I can stick around for a second round.

I watched him play for a few minutes today and had to leave the room because I felt like I was going to scream. Or cry. Or both. 

Warning: Gushing ahead. Forgive me in advance for the gooey prose you are about to read, but I'm still basking in the afterglow of Thanksgiving gratitude and the truth is, every once in a while I can't help myself. All the sappiness builds up in me and just I have to go Hallmark.

Why fight it, I say.

I have so much gratitude itching inside me right now it's going to spill right over into the next post. I can feel it.

Plus, it's just plain nice to break from whining about the don't have's, and the things I've given up and monotony of struggle. Blah, blah, blah, blahty-blah.

This is what I do have:

I have two of the coolest kids anywhere for daughters and I have time with them everyday. Even when I don't really want it.

I have a husband who takes them out of the house for hours every chance he gets because he likes hanging with them. And also because he understands now the finer points of maintaining my mental health.

I have two bathrooms. Let me say that again. I have two bathrooms with two toilets that flush. No waiting.

I have central heat and a lovely fir-tree view out my office windows. (And I have an office.) 

I have two healthy parents who I will never understand, but whom I know support me unconditionally even when they think my decisions are crazy-insane.

I have friendships with roots that run so deep and roots grown so inextricably through each other that those friends have become my family.

I have access to archive.org and streaming audio of almost every Grateful Dead show ever played. And I had the good fortune to attend 30-some of those shows, in varying states of consciousness, before Jerry Garcia died.

I have my family living all in one house, healthy, in a way that is possible only because I once left.

All that has transpired among my family this holiday takes longer to digest than even the biggest turkey holiday.

My mother and step-father (still getting used to calling this stranger any sort of father) swept through town town in a fit of self-importance, leaving behing gifts from their recent Mexican holiday.

The dishes were barely dry and it was time for a seven-hour drive to upstate NY where my sister and I removed my father's car from his possession for his own safety (dementia has robbed him of his driving skills). We lied and said we accidentally crashed it but actually put it into storage. 

Holidays...what fun. But who had my back through all the bickering and tears? Rob. Gotta hand it to that guy. He's a good one to have aroun.

Friday morning and I'm giving thanks for Turkey Day with our best friends yesterday. Sam and I have lived a thousand miles or more from our families of origin for the last 14 Thanksgivings.

Getting back to our folks — especially now that it requires four tickets — is a once-every-few-years event. Out in Portland, where most of our closest friends are in the same gravy boat, we've done the traditional feast together sans the annual family drama almost every year.

Sometimes I miss my family, mourn the chance to have my kids hang out with their cousins, but when it comes right down to it, my favorite way to spend the holiday is right here with the extended family we've created.

And this year, our first year back together, it was nice to be on neutral ground. No moms or dads or in-laws for anyone to please. Where our kids may not have blood relatives, but they do have a circle of friends they've known since birth. And the same kind of familial love that goes with it.

Plus, we'll have enough of that next month.

Early morning I'm up before dawn, and up before the kids — trying to be up before them anyway. There bunked-up in the other room and their chatter is all holidays.

Roxie says, "And Hannukah, too, don't forget."

Lila says, "And Christmas is in Hannukah this year."

Then two little voices together: "And Grammy is coming!"

And I may not be excited about this with them, but I'm equally excited for them.

Some time ago I wrote about my disappointment over not being able to join my church's board of directors. I had been nominated by some people in the congregation but the pastor quietly removed my name from nominations because he knew about the marital problems. It hit me hard because I really wanted to join the board, and it ticked me off that my life was apparently such a mess that I couldn't be considered for the position. 

Fast forward to present day. I got a call from my pastor who told me that my name had come up again. He wanted to let the nomination go through, but he needed to know if I was ready. It was really a bizarre conversation.

Usually my pastor and I have a really easy rapport with each other but I could tell that he was uncomfortable. He started mumbling about how he wanted me on the board but people on the board have certain expectations, and while the church is not necessarily opposed to divorce I would be in the public eye.  I stopped him and said, "If you're asking if I'm going to divorce my husband anytime soon, the answer is no.  I can't guarantee you that I won't leave him in the near future, though." 

He accepted my answer and this Sunday I expect to be confirmed onto the board. 

I'm really pleased that I finally made it onto the board, but here is the thing: My pastor knows that my husband and I are on shaky ground. Heck, we've been trying to coordinate schedules for the past few months so that the three of us can get together for some marital counseling.

I don't really get why he would ask me a question that he kind of already knows the answer to. Maybe it was a formality, or maybe it was a veiled warning, something along the lines of "If you leave your husband, you're off the board." Trust me, though...if I leave my husband I think the church board will be the least of my problems.

For some reason, Rob is less needy lately. When he isn't in constant monologue trying to describe every experience he had while we were apart during the day, I'm more curious about how he spends his time. I have questions for him and we can dialog. This works for me. I guess without Rob breathing down my neck, the time we do spend together seems more...pleasant!

Our trip to the meditation center was helpful — our program allowed us time together apart from the group, plus time apart from each other. We struck a nice balance.

Due to the quiet-hours rule and no television, we went to bed together at the same time — a big change in routine. At home Rob retires after 11 and I fall asleep on the couch. I usually wake around 1 or 2 and go to bed. That leaves no awake time in bed together. At Kripalu we stayed up comparing notes on the workshop and laughing about quirks of the other participants. I felt downright close to him! (I even let him spoon me as we fell asleep.) 

This closeness has come just in time for the stressful holidays. We're about to embark on a four-day family extravaganza covering 1200 miles, three families, and two turkey dinners. Into that mix throw a new step-father; a father with Alzhiemer's and a needy girlfriend; and a brother who says he's not going to show up, but just might, probably drunk, flask in hand. If there's a time I ever needed a partner, it's now.