Shame

Just after Christmas, the kids and I went shopping for books. Collie picked out Judy Blume’s It’s Not the End of the World, a novel about a girl whose parents are getting divorced.

“It’s like me,” he said brightly.

My middle son, Collie, is a sensitive boy. He tends to observe and comment on things. He is a real stickler for playing by the rules.

When other boys play ball, he referees. When he and Lillie gather their stuffed animals, she spins fantastic yarns that he embellishes with plot lines anchoring their play in reality.

My kids think about and talk about the divorce a good deal. For Collie, though, it is a living breathing entity. He keeps holding it up and examining it, trying to understand its genetic make up.

Picking up the kids one evening, Lucy noticed Collie’s new book and took me aside.

“Judy Blume is not appropriate reading material for a third grader,” she chastised me. “The language is too advanced, and the subject matter is geared towards pre-adolescents. She writes about menstruation, stuff like that. Collie isn’t ready for that!”

I have to concede Lucy’s superior expertise on children’s literature. I put the book aside for later.

This morning, parents were invited to join the third grade class to discuss the class reading projects.

The teacher had assigned Judy Blume’s It’s Not the End of the World.

Collie was in a reading group with his new best friend, Cindy. He has hand picked her as his new pal because her parents are also divorcing. He liked that they had this in common.

In a classic Slaves of New York manner, Cindy’s parents continue to live together as they divorce. I can only imagine.

(Side note: Cindy’s mom has got it going on.

She’s a real head turner, attractive in a way I find completely unappealing.

She has full, shoulder length hair, streaked blond. Her gym-toned body is perfectly tanned in winter. She works hard to achieve a look that seems very cookie-cutter Malibu/Park Avenue.

You can take this look apart and price its individual components. Hair salon, tanning salon, nail salon, gym membership, personal trainer, teeth caps . . .

I like her well enough, and I know I shouldn’t judge a book by its cover. But dang, my kids’ school is crawling with moms working that look. Give it a rest, sisters!)

I joined the reading group to discuss the book. The kids were talking about ways the divorce had impacted the central character’s life.

Cindy said that the divorce had caused many things to change, like where the girl would live.

Isabel said that because of the divorce, a lot of decisions had to be made.

Collie, sitting on my lap, noted that the parents had to be “strict” (his word) in explaining the divorce to the girl, so that she would understand it.

Mark added that grandparents and aunts were encouraging the mom to remarry, which might mean a new dad for the girl.

We talked about these ideas, and I was impressed by their understanding of the text and the issues discussed.

I wanted to leave the room. I thought I might cry.

The students were engaged in a very open, rational discussion about something in a book, something affecting the real lives of two of the students. Collie and Cindy talked about things they had in common with the girl in the book.

And as they did so, I felt churnings of resentment, anger, and shame.

I am deeply ashamed of my divorce.