I spent Easter at my new in-laws' house. It's always a little awkward to be there for any length of time, but it seems to have reached fever pitch discomfort levels of late.

My partner's father has recently retired. He had a fairly demanding career and was out of the house a lot. My partner's mother had almost complete control of the house, and he generally stayed out of her way. I used to think that this was a fairly unevolved way to coexist. Now they're together all the time, and I've changed my perspective a bit.

I think they hate each other. They spent the entire long weekend in an upper-middle-class level domestic dispute. Everything was an argument. Should we feed the baby now, or should he eat while we're eating? Was it his idea to go on the Caribbean cruise, or hers? Was the photo taken in Bermuda or Barbados? Should we take the recycling down out now, or in half an hour?

By her account, he had numerous affairs over the years and they almost got divorced. By everyone else's account, this is bullshit. In households like this one, though, when someone says something that is not only bullshit but extremely offensive, you don't call them on it. You talk about how the stuffing tastes good with extra rosemary instead.

In writing for First Wives World, I've encountered many people who think that divorce is a tragedy. I'm starting to think that in some cases, it's a brilliant innovation. If they'd divorced 20 years ago, there's a slim chance they could be happy now. In their case, that slim chance of happiness seems a hell of a lot bigger than the chance they have at it now.

One of my favorite parts of being divorced is not having in-laws anymore. The freedom from all that extra censure and pressure cannot be overstated.

One of my least favorite parts of being part of a couple again is that you get yourself a brand spanking new set of in-laws, and they're often worse than the last.

The thing about in-laws is that they never like you. You're never good enough. You're never a good enough wife, you're never a good enough mother, you're never a good enough housekeeper. Nothing you do will ever meet the expectations placed upon you because they put those expectations in place years before either you or your partner were even born.

Some in-laws are obvious in their dislike of you. While this makes for some confrontational situations, nobody looks at you like you're crazy when you say your in-laws don't like you. Other in-laws — like, say, mine — are not obvious in their dislike. They are passive aggressive and make snarky comments with a big smile on their face, while asking you if you'd like more Merlot.

I wonder sometimes if it's possible to divorce the family without divorcing the man. And while wondering that, I wonder if divorcing the family could lower the divorce rate by an astronomical percent. Worth thinking about.

My ex doesn't really piss me off anymore. I read a lot of posts on First Wives World where newly divorced women wonder if they'll stay as angry or as bitter or as hurt as they are now, and in my experience, the answer is no.

Generally speaking, we don't fight, we don't spat, we barely talk, frankly. But right now, I'm ready to ring his redneck neck.

When I was recently pregnant, there were complications. Blood pressure, bleeding, fainting — it sucked, I was in and out of the hospital, and I wasn't particularly good at returning phone calls or emails. Not to mention I was experiencing a fairly crushing depression but couldn't take my meds because they kept me up at night.

My oldest son was calling a lot from his grandparents', and I either wasn't there to take the call or I wasn't up for calling him back. After a few instances, I called my ex and asked him to get in touch with our son and explain the situation to him so he wouldn't feel completely abandoned. He was incredibly sweet and agreed to handle the whole thing. This was several weeks ago.

Last night, I was talking to my son on the phone, and he asked why I hadn't returned his calls all those weeks ago. He has the memory of a goldfish, so I reminded him of what had happened.

"Oh," he says. "I didn't hear."

"You didn't?"

"Well, I spoke to Daddy a few days ago and I asked him why you weren't calling. He said he'd talked to you a few weeks before that but he didn't know what was going on."

I feel like dragging my ex into an alley and smacking him stupid.

Well, I was pregnant and now I'm not. It got me to thinking, as I've been known to do, about my ex.

When I was first married, I got a positive pregnancy test a few days after the wedding. I basically freaked out, but I did it privately. My ex was the type who would freak out enough for the both of us, so I figured it would be a good idea to at least get accustomed to the idea on my own before I dropped the highly unexpected bomb on him.

When I finally realized I couldn't wait any longer to tell him, I did. I took him out to a pub and ordered him a beer. I told him. He took a swig from his beer. He took another swig from his beer. He took a third swig from his beer.

"Can't you take a pill or something?"

"To do what?"

"To... you know."

Oh yes. I knew. But if he was going to be like this about it, I wasn't going to make it any easier for him. Keep in mind, we had a 15-month-old son already, so it wasn't a general fatherhood issue.

The thing is, I have nothing against abortion for those couples who think it's the right thing to do. I just don't think it's something you do before you've had a chance to, uh, think about it. Or discuss it. Or, in his case, even know the legalities and the procedures involved. No, sadly, I can't just take a pill or something.

I later found out that I wasn't really pregnant. It was something called a blighted ovum, which means your body thinks you're pregnant and acts like you're pregnant but you're not actually pregnant. I have to wonder what would have happened if it was the real deal.

I wonder how it would work, having separate homes. I mean, I can certainly think of the good things. I could shave my legs or bleach my mustache or awkwardly try to wax my bikini line without broadcasting it to my partner. I could buy the floral couch from Ikea. I could finally write that trashy romance novel without someone peering over my shoulder saying, “Whatcha doing?” But what about the practical aspects? Would we give the baby identical bedrooms, or would he sleep at my house all the time? We just bought a very large and expensive television. Who would get it? If I buy that floral couch and he buys the ridiculous black leather one, what do we do when this situation inevitably ends? I have a feeling they won’t work well in the same room. What about meals? Dates? Discipline? I know I happen to be insanely permissive with the baby which drives my partner batty. Would it be difficult for Jack to reconcile different rules in different households? Or would it be just the same as when Michael was little and my husband and I shared custody? My partner says he likes this idea, but he wonders if this is the first step people take when they’re ready to separate. I can understand his point, but I think it might really be the first step people take to avoid separating. Like a pre-emptive strike against divorce.

So I’m finally going to get divorced. I’ve decided. It’s for real this time. And what led me to this decision, you ask?

I need a passport. My career has finally started to take off, and I’ve been invited to a few conferences in the U.S. I live in Canada, and the rules are changing about the identification you need to cross the border. I used to be able to get away with just my birth certificate, but now they want a passport.

The trouble is, I’ve already changed my name to my new husband’s. My health card, my bank card, my credit cards all use my new name. If I get a passport, they’ll have to use my old name, which belongs to my soon-to-be ex-husband.

This is obviously not acceptable, so I’m getting divorced.

Like I said in last week’s post, my future mother-in-law is starting to get nervous. She’s looking to see her first-born son get married, and I can hardly blame her. All this living in sin and making bastard babies must be stressful on her.

There might be more stupid reasons to get divorced, but if there are, I haven’t heard of them.

My ex and I agree about religion. Generally, we’re not big fans of it. For most divorced couples, this is probably a good thing. Nobody has to argue about whether or not the baby should have a bris if nobody’s Jewish.

For us, though, it’s harder. We were raised Mormon and his parents are still active in the church. So active that Michael’s got on board with the God Squad and is talking about serving a mission. My own mother — who is not now and never has been Mormon — called me from Marks & Spencer’s in England, asking if he’d like a children’s Bible. My ex and I went shopping together for baptismal jewelry.

What happened here? When did the life we ran so far away from become ours again? Is it a backlash thing? Is it like adult children of Republicans joining a commune, only to find their own children voting for Bush?

I wonder how to deal with all of this. I mean, my ex’s parents aren’t exactly my favorite people, but I respect their right to their religion. I just don’t want it to be my kid’s religion. Am I one of those mothers who thinks it’s okay for other people’s kids to be gay? Is that what I’ve become?

I try very hard to remember that Michael will probably change his mind. My ex tries to cheer me up by threatening to take Michael to Cancun for a year after he’s done high school — he thinks the sight of dozens of drunk, half-naked women might help to change Michael’s mind.

I don’t know if that makes me feel better or worse, but right now, the whole church thing is a colossal pain in the ass.

In Canada, except for in the most extenuating circumstances, child support amounts are determined by pre-existing tables based on the number of children and the income of the non-custodial parent. No consideration is given to the income of the custodial parent, which always made me uncomfortable.

I made a lot more than my husband did, and I felt weird taking his money. That didn't mean I wasn't going to get all up in arms when his $117 came on a Thursday instead of a Wednesday.

I know in many other countries, child support amounts are determined by the mood of the judge on the day the decision was made. Maybe we feel cheated. Maybe we feel entitled. Quite possibly, we feel powerless. Probably, we don't like being reminded that in some way, we are dependent on this man until our children turn eighteen.

Child support is such an ugly business. It turns the raising of a child into a mercenary matter and not a family one. It's necessary but it's tragic, and for now, it's the only system we have.

How are child support payments determined where you live? Do you think it's an equitable system, or do you think it's weighted in the favor of one party over another? Tell me what you think.

Linda had been married for about 10 years, suffering from numerous health problems and their resulting fertility issues. She lived in a place where the services of a fertility specialist were not free like they are in Canada, so Linda and her husband had to save up for a long time to see a doctor. They both worked extra hours and picked up occasional second jobs to pay for the privilege of maybe getting pregnant.

After eight months of trying, they decided to give the whole thing a break for a while to give Linda's body the chance to recuperate. One day, Linda's fertility specialist called her in for an appointment on her own. Without a clue what could possibly require a solo visit, Linda dutifully went along.

When she arrived, she noticed the doctor was pregnant. When she congratulated her on her pregnancy, there was an awkward silence. It turned out the baby was Linda's husband's. The doctor didn't like being the bearer of bad news, but Linda's husband would be leaving her and marrying the doctor instead.

By the time Linda got home, her husband's things were gone.

It's so easy to think that our divorce is the worst divorce, the hardest divorce, the most acrimonious divorce. Sometimes, though, we hear someone's story and it makes us gasp out loud. Do you have any stories like this one? How are your friends coping?

If you have an ex and children, you've dealt with it: The Switch.

If your ex isn't a total deadbeat, he's going to spend some time with the children you had together, and you're going to have to see him. You're going to have to talk to him. You're going to have to be nice to him.

There's no good way to drop off your kids with your ex, unless maybe your kids are so young they don't know you were ever together, let alone that you're now divorced. It's not fun for them and it's not fun for either of you.

Someone should create a service. Maybe some kind woman who didn't quite finish her social worker degree could pull up in her standard issue silver Honda Civic and cheerfully transport your children for deposit into the possession of the man you once shared a bed with, and now can no longer share niceties with.

She can take care of the "how's work?" conversations and the "I'll get you that child support check as soon as I can" conversations and maybe even the "how's it going with that tramp you left me for?" conversations, too.

Until that service comes to market, though, we just keep plugging along, trying to make it as painless as possible. I found that the longer my husband and I have been separated, the easier it's become. What about you? Do you have any tricks to make the drop off go smoothly? Has it gotten easier as time has gone on?