To divorce him while you were pregnant? I mean, who has the energy? Plus, if you despise him, what better way to torture him than making him stay up all night feeding and changing a baby? I don't know who Kelis and Nas are -- as is becoming increasingly more common at my advanced age -- but one of them sings a song called Milkshake. Something tells me it has nothing to do with a wholesome concoction featuring ice cream. (Please wait while I consult my best friend Google.) Oh, and right I am. Here are the lyrics and let's just say I wouldn't want to drink the euphemism that is her "milkshake."
Hell, if I decide I want to get a divorce I'll wait until the kids turn 18. Not in deference to their mental well-being, mind you, but doesn't arranging weekend visits sound like a lot of work? I'm tired by the time the weekend rolls around. I can't be shuttling kids back and forth and worrying about whose weekend it is.