Have You Met My Parents??

Have you ever known that couple that spent more years divorcing than they did actually married to each other? They still fight over money, which person got the house, the kids, the hibiscus plant that no one waters anymore anyways. If so, how did you come to meet my parents?
I haven’t lived at home for a few years now. Yet somehow every visit turns into a therapy session, where I become the therapist. I don’t ever seem to avoid it. I can say nothing and it will find a way to begin. And of course a simply nod, or empathetic “I understand” always makes it back to the other party and I am once again a participant of the “talking behind someone’s back club”.
I can’t count the times I have through a nod heard “So I hear you were talking behind my back with your father / mother!?”
Sometimes I think that getting a divorce included a gag order that was back by a huge fine where for each word uttered an amount is payable to your children who shouldn’t have to listen – and whose job it isn’t to “give a shit”.
Maybe this is payback for making them listen to my sister and I fighting. Karma fucking sucks.