Stepparents sing instead of argue

The last time I clashed with my ex-husband, Tripp, about how much time our son, Travis, would spend with each of us, Travis checked my face, then his dad's. He positioned himself halfway between us.

"Please," my son said, unfolding his small hands and extending them toward me and his dad. His blinked, as if fighting tears.

With my son's expression etched in my heart, I vowed that I would change. Somehow I needed to summon the superhuman strength to set aside my feelings of pain and distrust, to find a way to spend civil social time with both Travis and his dad. Then we wouldn't have to fight over him. And Travis wouldn't feel as if he had to completely separate his life with me - spent mostly at my house, in my neighborhood - from his life with his dad.

At that moment, I had an idea - but I knew it could lead to disaster.

What if I invited my ex-husband, his wife, my new husband, his ex-wife, and our six children to a party?

Maybe - just maybe - we could create a new tradition that would give our kids the opportunity to feel connected to all their parents, at the same time, in the same place, if only for a few hours.

First, I unveiled my idea to my husband, Bill, who responded by issuing one of his classic warnings. "The potential for disaster would never be more than 20 seconds away," he said.

I reminded him that just last Christmas, his daughter, Emily, had begged to invite her mother over to our house for Christmas.

Bill closed his eyes and scrunched up his face, as if gathering the courage to jump off a cliff.

"I think it's worth a try," he said. "But..."

When Bill and I presented my idea to Travis and my two stepchildren, we were greeted with silence.

Travis checked my eyes. Bill's kids, Emily and Chris, gazed at Bill's face. They seemed to be searching for the tight jaw line that signaled Bill's discomfort.

"If all our parents are at the same party, who's going to be in charge?" asked Chris.

"Since it's our party, Lisa and I will be in charge," said Bill.

"But my mom will make us all eat tofu," Travis said. "Then she'll make my dad run around to lose some weight, like she used to do when they were together."

"I'll serve food everyone likes," I promised. "Then I'll ask Bill to demonstrate his squat-jumper exercises, but I won't insist that your dad join in."

The kids laughed.

"Neat," said Travis. "Emily's and Chris's mom will meet my dad."

And so the preparations began.

Bill spent what felt like months shopping for his ex-wife's favorite hors d'oeuvres.

"Linda likes homemade bread," he said, as we picked our way through the gourmet section of the grocery store.

"What's the matter with the stale white bread you feed the kids?" I asked.

He ignored me and immersed himself in memories of party planning with his ex.

"We used to have dinner parties, and we always bought Gouda cheese," he said.

Next he insisted on fresh shrimp.

"What's the matter with the sticky frozen stuff we usually eat?" I asked.

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