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?

My husband has accepted a position overseas for a year. The kids and I won't be going with him. We're staying put while he goes and gets an apartment and lives a life without a wife and kids.

It's a weird situation. We're going to be separated by distance but we aren't going to be separated as far as our marital status goes...at least I don't think we are. If that's the intent it hasn't been discussed. So I'll still be married, but my husband won't live with us. He'll visit once or twice during this time away, but for the most part we'll live separate lives during this work assignment.

I think this is a step in the right direction. I'm so conflicted over whether we should stay together or not that sometimes I wonder what it would be like to live without him for a while. Will I miss him? Will he miss me? Will the kids freak out without Daddy around? It's like a trial separation without all the hubbub of a real, intentional marital separation.

Honestly, I don't know if I could dream up a better scenario.

The last time he went away for an extended period of time for work — which was for a few months — I was glad he was gone. We were right in the middle of our worst difficulties and not having him around was a real relief. We have since been through marital counseling, but I don't know that it really helped all that much. I'd generally resolved to just muddle through and see how things turn out. This new development makes things very interesting indeed.

We still have a few months before he leaves, but we're preparing now for the time he'll be away. Can a damaged marriage survive a long separation? I guess we'll find out. 

Do you ever find yourself staring at your wedding ring? I remember when my husband first proposed I worked in a store that had great lighting so I would sit and stare at my engagement ring whenever I had the chance. It was so beautiful and sparkly and it represented such a bright future ahead of us.

Before we had kids I fantasized about my baby someday staring at the sparkles in the ring while wrapping his or her little fingers around it. When my babies came along, they didn't get to see much of the ring because my fingers were so swollen that I couldn't wear it. 

This was around the same time the marriage started to face some real trouble. When I lost the baby weight and got the ring back on my finger I hoped it would renew something. Maybe we could reclaim the love we once had just like I had reclaimed the right to wear my wedding ring.

I know I put way too much emphasis on symbolism. I don't know why my brain works that way. By the way, he presented the ring to me when he proposed while we were watching The First Wives Club on television. I'm pretty sure there's some irony there.

I find myself staring at my wedding ring a lot nowadays, too. I think about what it felt like to put that ring on my finger for the first time and how I never thought in a million years how our relationship would someday evolve (or deteriorate) into what it is today. I wear the ring because I'm married, but I don't see it as a symbol of a bright marital future.

I know many women in my situation don't even bother to wear their wedding rings anymore, but I do. I'm married. No matter what my heart says I'm still married. The ring announces this to everyone, and I'm fine with that. I just can't make the claim anymore that when I stare at my ring I'm thinking about all the glorious years ahead of us in wedded bliss.

My state has been making the news lately because of a really lenient law regarding child abandonment. Apparently, any child can be dropped off at a safe haven, so laws that were designed to protect newborns only apply to all children, regardless of age.

Suddenly people can give up their kids to authorities, without persecution, no matter what age the kids are. Are you having a bad day with your rambunctious toddler? Drop him off with the authorities. Is your teenager driving you crazy? Pack her bags and send her away.

There was a story of a man dropping off his kids that made national headlines because he surrendered nine children of varying ages. Authorities were left scratching their heads because according to the law the children belonged to the state now and there were no ramifications for the dad.

Why is it so simple to wash your hands of your children but walking away from your spouse takes thousands of dollars and countless hours of legal mumbo jumbo? Imagine a law where spouses could just look at each other and say, "You know, this really isn't working," and then they walk down to the courthouse and are declared divorced. Voila. It's like a magic trick.

I'm not saying this is the best idea. I'm personally a fan of trying to make things work before throwing in the towel, but I'm left scratching my head over this law that lets you walk away from your own flesh and blood. Do you want to leave your spouse? Prepare for myriad legal bills and confusing laws. 

Do you want to leave your children? If you live in the state I live in, you're in luck. 

If I could go back in time and tell myself to not get married in the first place, would I? Heck no. My kids are amazing and even if this marriage ends in a gigantic mess of hurt feelings and resentment at least I know that I'm halfway responsible for bringing two astounding individuals into this world as a result of the marital union.

When I look at my kids I know that everything was worth it. I think about how my husband made me feel about as big as a gnat, but then I see my son giggle and I know it was worth it.

I think about how my husband prefers silent treatment and guilt trips over rational conversation, but then my daughter dances through the house and I know that it was worth it.

I think about how my husband doesn't follow through on his obligations and how he resents me wanting him to push hard to succeed, but then my kids give me a big hug and I know that it was worth it.

It's when I start thinking about leaving that these same things keep me here. My husband twirls my daughter around or he sends my son into a fit of laughter from making funny faces and I feel guilty about ever tearing this all apart. I love my kids more than I have ever loved anything before — including myself — and the idea of shaking their world up bothers me to no end. 

How much less would my kids see their dad if the marriage ended? Would he take off like his father did? Would the seemingly unshakeable bond they all have together now be reduced to occasional visits and greeting cards on birthdays?

Or would my husband fight to take the kids away from me?

I hate that things have to be this way. I hate that I'm not part of a family that is altogether happy and content. I hate that my beautiful children will probably be the ones most hurt by a divorce. The mere thought of ever hurting them makes me want to scream, or throw up, or curl into the fetal position and cry.

I don't know what to do. 

There's something about contemplating divorce that a lot of folks don't realize.

The fact is that — at least in my particular situation — my husband and I aren't at each other's throats and hurling insults at each other. One of us doesn't walk out of the room when the other one walks in. We can have a family outing and have a genuinely good time, laughing and joking with each other.  It's not like we're faking our merriment either...we're really having a good time.

That's what's so stinking confusing about the whole thing. The constant sense of underlying marital unease is once in a while tempered with bouts of compatibility. The problem is that the uneasiness never goes away.

It's because of these times that I get really confused and start thinking to myself, "Well, gee, why couldn't this work? If we can get along and enjoy each other in this moment in time, why not always?" The relationship is steady; it's sturdy; it's stable.

But the uneasiness never goes away.

There is always the feeling of, "What am I doing here? What am I waiting for? Is this really how marriage is supposed to be?" It's like walking through a really muddy path, and every so often there is a really pretty bush of colorful flowers that I can stop and admire.

I start to wonder if this muddy path is worth the trouble because of the occasional flower bushes I encounter because after all, the flowers are beautiful.  I just hate having to trudge through the mud the majority of the time in order to stumble upon these flowers.

Plus, there's the fact that the mud really never goes away, even when I'm admiring the flowers. 

My husband served in Iraq for a few months back when our first child was a young baby. I was really proud of him for what he was doing even though I was scared out of my mind for the dangerous situation he was getting into and also because I was really new at the whole mommy thing and was about to do it all on my own.

When he came home he was different. I know you've all probably heard about how people go away to war and then come back somehow changed, but unless you've experienced it firsthand then you probably have no idea what it's like.

It's not like in the movies where he sits in a dark corner and smokes cigarettes while grumbling about the ills of war. Instead it's as if he went away one man and then came back another.

The only way I can describe it is that he came home himself, but a different version I had never seen before. Less patient. More prone to anger.

One minute he would demand attention and the next minute he would shut down and want to be left alone. He laughed less and was much more critical of everyone around him.

He's gone to counseling and the therapist told him that although he probably has some PTSD issues; chances are he'll bounce right back eventually. That was five years ago, and most of the time I still feel like he's a stranger.

What kind of woman leaves a husband who changes after serving his country? He may be a different man, but he changed because he went off to fight for the liberties I enjoy daily.

I struggle with this all the time. Is it his fault that he's different? Why can't I adapt to his changes? Should I have to?

I took introduction to psychology in college so I have a general idea of what the term "passive aggressive" means. It wasn't until recently, however, that I really got to witness it in person.

Apparently my husband has decided that this is his newest way to complain about the things I do without actually complaining about them.

Here are a couple of examples, which could easily be compiled with a slew of others for a "passive-aggressive husband reference manual":

The other day my kids and I went out to lunch with a couple of other moms and their kids. I don't eat out for lunch all the time, and this was an impromptu get-together. I had packed my husband a lunch that morning for him to take to work so he had leftovers. When he gets home he tells me this: "The guys at work said, 'Let me get this straight...she gets to eat out for lunch and you have to eat leftovers? Man, that's messed up!' Ha-ha!"

Translation: He's ticked off that I got to eat out and he had to eat leftovers.

My husband recently did some volunteer work with the guys at church that involved a lot of physical labor and when he got home he said, "Bob told me he was so glad that his wife and daughter were out of town because after we finished up he was going to go home and take a long nap without interruption. Ha-ha!"

Translation: He wants to take a nap but knows that we already agreed that he would take the kids so I could get some work done. He's hoping I suggest he takes a long nap and I'll just stay up until two in the morning working.

How do I know it's all passive aggressive? These comments don't even go with the flow of conversation. They come out of nowhere, and he gives a long pause afterward as though he's waiting for me to fall to my knees and beg his forgiveness for going out to eat with my friends/not offering him a four hour nap/whatever else I do that ticks him off.

Let me tell you about how we got our cat. She's a really pretty long haired cat that we obtained from the local animal shelter a few months ago after relentless requests from our older daughter for a family pet.

With everything so up in the air lately with regards to our family situation I was really apprehensive about getting a family pet, but as I said, my daughter was relentless.

It turns out that I'm allergic to cats. I had cats growing up and at some points in my adult years, but something about this cat makes me sneeze and cough as though I was rolling around in oleander bushes (something I really am allergic to).

When it became apparent that I can only spend limited time with this cat before my eyes start watering and my throat starts itching, the chore of brushing the cat's long fur falls on my husband. The kids aren't quite gentle enough yet for this delicate task, and when I do it I feel simply miserable afterwards even when I pop an allergy pill beforehand.

So now let me tell you about how our cat looks nowadays: She walks around with knots all over her fur, occasionally stopping to meow and pick at the lumps of matted fur that have developed on various spots of her body.

"Have you been brushing the cat's fur?" I'll ask my husband.

"I've been too busy," is his reply as he flips through the television channels.

"Will you please brush her out tonight?" I ask.

"Sure," he says, and then goes back to watching TV.

Sometimes he'll brush her, and sometimes he won't. I usually winds up taking the scissors to the tangles in her fur and cutting them out because she's obviously uncomfortable.

That poor cat didn't know what she was getting herself into when she came home with us.

My parents were always very affectionate when I was growing up. It was almost embarrassing how much they hugged and smooched each other, but there was something cool about it because it was obvious that they really loved each other and enjoyed being around one another.

My husband and I used to be pretty affectionate — after all, that's what I grew up with so it seemed natural — but the worse the issues in our marriage became, the less affectionate we became. You would be hard pressed to see us holding hands or embracing each other for longer than a standard, "Hi, welcome home from work" hug. We're so distant from each other that showing affection seems weird. Sometimes, I just don't want him to touch me.

What is this conveying to my kids? I know people say that a separation would damage my kids, but what potential damage are we doing by staying together?

We don't scream at each other, but we don't portray a married couple who necessarily enjoys being around each other. I don't want my kids to get the impression that this is what a marriage is supposed to be like. I know that the example my husband and I set right now will have a lasting impression on our kids forever. I'm really trying to not screw this all up.