Tomorrow I'll be loading the children into Hot Red Speed (the name the kids assigned to my minivan) and heading south to see my parents. I'm not exactly excited to visit. There are a river of philosophical differences dividing us. I can't say I haven't spoiled a meal or two due to an animated immigration debate or anti-war rant. So though I adore my parents as do my children, my tongue is always sore by the time I return to KC from biting it for the entirety of the trip.
This visit will be extra special though. Tomorrow evening after the kids are tucked in bed, I plan to tell them about Martin & I separating. This will likely devastate them. Perhaps they've picked up on cues over the last year or so, but I don't think anyone takes lightly to the ultimate demise of their child's marriage. I don't want them to be sad for me, and they most certainly will be. Perhaps I should've let them into this earlier on, but it hardly seemed like a subject to approach over the phone. And better now than waiting until the deed is done, right? Wish me luck. Or perhaps wisdom. And lots of patience.