always arriving (a poem)
leaving and arriving
nyc
at the prettiest time of year
alone
remembering other moments
other lovers
adventures that led me here
as if
this city is a gateway
to next adventures
“oh shit, i’m in ny, what’s about to happen?”
yet, here i am again
technically not alone
but …
wait, i am here to learn a new lesson this time
love is love is love is love
the love you make
that’s all there is
and this love
this companionship
contains everything necessary
for a lifetime of joy and connection
of course
parenting forms an unbreakable bond
where distance and time
bring a deeper affection
easy appreciations
are somehow affirming
our own good hearts
an lessons in learning to love
another person without limits
there is no risk in loving your kids too much
only in missing moments when your attention
could’ve been more supportive
more joyful
in our lives we need that one person
i want to be that one person
who always loves
who invites more love
and gives freely
without expectations
or rewards
this is the reward
this live
love
moment
this then
is
heaven
on
earth
11-27-21 (beginning my 60th year on the planet)
Urban Fit Uber Cute Couple Bias – UFUCC
A number of interesting ideas came up during my walk around the local lake this morning. I was blessed with the presence of my 11-yo daughter, who is just about full-on irritated with me at this point. “Right on schedule,” I said to her, as she rolled her eyes at me for the 15th time this morning.
The good thing about reaching the “dad is such a dork” phase with my kids is this, I don’t have to behave in perfect and rigid parenting patterns, I’m more of a crackup. And they have grabbed a wicked sense of humor from me. So I am unabashedly dorky, and I’m happy to crack myself up full-on and catch my daughter busting a smile over in her eye-rolling seat.
At one point I made a joke this morning, as she switched the radio for the 10th time to another rap/pop non-musical “tune.” I said, “Listen I’m starting to have a few problems with our relationship. I think we’re going to need to see other people.” She rolled her eyes. I went on. “I mean, I’m paying for everything, I don’t like your music that much, and we never agree on where to go eat these days, so… I think we might need to take a break.” We both cracked up
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We’d had so many pseudo blowups, that the real one wasn’t even very interesting or dramatic. It was disappointing, because I had prepared a lot of goodies for the date night.
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The resonance, however, with the conversation I had last night as my “friend” was blowing up at me at the “hi-how-ya-doin” moment of our date night. She started spewing a ton of “always” and “nevers” at me. And I registered that she was off her rocker, blaming with wild generalizations about the “entire relationship” and not just her disappointment. And let’s see, that morning she had been 20 minutes late for our walk meetup. And I was fifteen minutes late, due to a father-daughter issue I needed to work out, and BOOM, I’m uncaring, unsuited for a relationship, and obviously only interested in doing what I want to do. (Oh, and I actually don’t dig her choice in music, but that was never brought up.)
If I could’ve rolled my eyes at her last night I might have been better off then trying to negotiation or talk rationally about her outburst. There was no “hi” at the door, there was “I’m mad at you.” And as I tried to blow it off and make light of it, as she often reverts to, “just kidding” this time she wasn’t kidding. And there was just enough resentment and disappointment underneath the wine she’d been drinking to set her off on an unreachable tear. I left. And I’m done done. We’d had so many pseudo blowups, that the real one wasn’t even very interesting or dramatic. It was disappointing, because I had prepared a lot of goodies for the night. But it was more drama and crisis that screamed RED FLAG and GET THE HELL OUT.
I walked.
And this morning as my daughter and I continued our playful banter about all things boy-girl, all things father-daughter, all things “dad is a dork” we laughed off most of the jokes. Sure, she was irritated with me. But it wasn’t really about if I did something great or if I did something dorky. It was just her being 11 year-old and reaching that separation journey. It’s okay. She needs to find her detachment. And now I’m free to play the “dorky dad” she likes to complain about. And I’m free to crack us both up and to illicite eyerolls at any moment. This is where we are.
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She was still acting out some routine with her ex-husband or something. And I’m in no mind to be a stand in for her target practice.
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Just as we were finishing our hour walk an uber fit couple came down from their lakefront condo in sporty LuLuLemons (my daughter’s crush brand at the moment) and started stretching on the trail as we walked by. I have to admit the woman looked spectacular. And I’m guessing my daughter noticed the tall dark and handsome guy in the fancy workout clothes as well.
We got off on this riff about LuLuLemon clothing for guys. “It’s only for gay guys,” I said. Eyeroll.
“No dad, it’s not.”
“Any guy, inside the LuLuLemon store, and not there with his daughter or girlfriend or wife, is GAY. G. A. Y.”
“Dad that’s so wrong… You’re being, what’s the word for racist except about…”
“Sexist.”
“Yeah, you’re being so sexist.”
“Actually you’re right. I’m being sexist.”
“See.”
“But tell me this…” I was ready to set the punchline of the weekend.
“What…” She was pre-rolling her eyes as we were getting ready to get back in my car.
“What is the LuLuLemon logo in the shape of?”
“Hair.”
“Yes, so what non-gay guy is going to wear shorts with girls hair as a logo? Gay I tell you, gay.”
“They are not gay, dad, you’re just being your dorky self.”
“Fine. We can agree to disagree.”
“And I’m going to get you a pair of LuLuLemon shorts for your birthday.”
“Oh really… You’re going to pay $75 for a pair of shorts for me? Nice.
“Yep. And you’ll be hooked after you wear them one time.”
“I’ll be looking forward to it.”
As far as the woman who misbehaved last night. She was not 11 years-old. She was demonstrating time after time how unready she was to have any kind of adult relationship. She was still acting out some routine with her ex-husband or something. And I’m in no mind to be a stand in for her target practice.
So I walk on, right past the UFUCC. And I anticipate my new LuLuLemon shorts in November when I will officially become gay. Unless I don’t, and then I suppose I will become a LuLuLemon spokesperson.
Sincerely,
The Off Parent
@theoffparent
related posts:
- What I Need To Tell You: Take Heart. It Gets Better.
- Happy Mom Chat About How I Got Here: What I Figured Out
- Creative Parenting and the Gifts of Enthusiastic Participation
- More Play Summer
image: run, yoga, fusion class, carolyn coles, creative commons usage
[Note: I don’t think I am sexist, or anti-gay, or homophobic for writing or joking about this. And I don’t really have any beef with LuLuLemon, except for the CEO’s comments, and the price of their fancy yoga gear.]
Single Parenting Magic – The SPO Has Given a Happy Moment
One. Three. Five.
Do those numbers sound familiar? In the SPO (standard possession order) those are the weekends the typical dad gets his kids. The first, the third, and the ever so lucky fifth. So this year we have Christmas in July. For some great turn of the calendar, this coming weekend is a magic “fifth.” And what that does, if you don’t know, is set up the double-weekend.
So I’m not saying she’s not being a good mother, but I do think our priorities are different. In some ways she WAS ahead of me in the entire divorce process. She would say it wasn’t premeditated, but she was closing down our communication channels for several years as she distanced herself from intimacy with me. It wasn’t hard. I was compliant. I took care of myself. But in doing so, I lost the heart of why I was in a relationship. It’s more clear now that I don’t have it, but I was desperate to stay connected. When that wasn’t offered, I was desperate to stay together until things got better. (Um, yeah. That’s a bad equation. NOTE: The other person is NOT going to change. They “might,” it’s possible, but it’s like waiting for the alcoholic to stop drinking. There’s always wishing and hoping and planning and doing better… And then there’s the slip or exit.)
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Drop off and pick up can change the tenor of my entire week. Going by our old house was almost unbearable for the first year and a half.
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So within weeks of the finalization of our divorce she was leaving the kids with a sitter to have sex with a repair man in another city. Oh boy! Yes, the word REBOUND came screaming up at me when I heard about it. And in my divorce recovery class, it was the only solace I had. Yes, she was already having sex with someone else. BUT HEY, it was a definite “rebound.” Fuck that. In many ways she had moved on and was all ready to GET IT ON with someone else. I have to say, “I get it.” But I was a little more calculated in my decisions, or maybe I was just so far behind in understanding emotionally what was happening.
The loss of the kids, the unlimited time with your kids, is the hardest thing. Well, that’s AFTER you get over the fact that this person has decided to bet against you. And suddenly you are left alone (and in my case homeless) to fend for yourself. And on all those nights that she has the kids for consecutive nights, you will learn to lick your wounds and get back up on your feet. Yes, it’s a process of self-discovery, but it’s like having the ladder out-of-the-hole kicked out from under you.
I guess there’s no good age for kids in divorce. And while my kids are thriving, I can see the loss in my daughter’s face when we are finally back together after a long period away. And her hugs and “mother hen” affection are just a bit over the top. I love it. I glow in it. I am careful to be the awesome dad in the father daughter constellation. As they say, she is learning, will learn, how to be with men by the healthy ways she learns to relate with me. It’s a huge responsibility. And it makes me sad not to be there for her. (The ex-y can date and babysit herself to her heart’s delight, but my daughter has become one of my primary concerns.)
It’s not that there’s anything wrong with her “relationship,” these days, but it does seem to me, that she puts her needs ahead of the kids. Perhaps that was the switch that allowed her to actually file for divorce from me. At some point she had to detach from me first. Then she had to make a decision that being without me was better for HER than being with me.
The kids are the hard part. Drop off and pick up can change the tenor of my entire week. Going by our old house was almost unbearable for the first year and a half. It was too close, to easy to want to crawl back into my old bed, to easy to long for a “return” of some sort.
And the SPO does take a huge portion of the time away from the dad. The lawyers and counselors likes to point out that “it’s pretty close to 50/50.” The problem with that logic is how that balance is achieved. There is this provision for the summers, that the NCP (non-custodial parent) can have the kids for an entire 30 days.
Let’s see what the problem is with that idea.
1. Financially it would be a huge hardship. If you could take the month off, it would be a killer vacation opportunity. But, like most parents, I would guess we have to keep working our normal schedule, then it becomes a 100% child care expense for a week.
2. Emotionally the kids are going to suffer being away from the other parent for a month. Maybe as the kids get older this will be an easier decision. But right now, the kids would be hurting to be away from Mom for that amount of time.
3. Logistically, you’ve got to make provisions for their care, entertainment, and nurture, while continuing to provide financially for both them and their mother.
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As they say, if she’s happy, my kids are happy, and that’s supposed to make me happy too. It sort of works that way.
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So, let’s just say, it’s going to be awhile before I am able to swing (or even want to swing) a 30-day visitation during the summer. THEN, the next best thing is the magic fifth weekend.
One more moment of reflection on the “balance of the schedule.” So JULY for me is going to be like EVERY OTHER MONTH is for her. OUCH!
I’m not interested, nor do I have the funds to change our legal agreement. BUT… at some point the “balance of time” vs. the “balance of the financial obligation” might have me looking at changing the custodial arrangement. I simply don’t have the funds to pursue it. And, for now, it’s working out to my advantage. A sad and somewhat lonely advantage, but nonetheless, I am getting a ton of work done in my “off parent” time.
So for now, I can thank my ex-y for taking care of the kids the majority of the time. (Note: during the school year she does shoulder an unfair burden of school parenting and homework, but hey, that’s the breaks.) And I can be the best dad that I can be during the time I have my kids. And I can celebrate the little gifts of the “fifth.”
And she can go right ahead and remarry, as she’s already mentioned in relationship to her current boyfriend, if that’s her path. I’ll do what I can to support her and the kids through whatever’s next. And I will keep the anger and bitterness here, in this process-writing, rather than in the my dealings with my ex-y. As they say, if she’s happy, my kids are happy, and that’s supposed to make me happy too. It sort of works that way.
In July, this year, I’ve got a lot to celebrate.
Sincerely,
The Off Parent
@theoffparent
related posts:
- Evolving Single Dad: Failure to Hopefulness Again
- What I Need To Tell You: Take Heart. It Gets Better.
- Happy Mom Chat About How I Got Here: What I Figured Out
- Creative Parenting and the Gifts of Enthusiastic Participation
resources:
- The Divorce Library (reading list)
- Songs of Divorce (free listening library – youtube sourced songs)
- Laugh It Off (building a resource library of funny videos and other diversions)
- Facebook (follow us on Facebook and keep up with all the conversations)
- The 5 Love Languages (a book on love styles by Gary Chapman)
Cherry PopTarts and Love (fathers & daughters in divorce)
I buy them because my daughter loves them. Cherry PopTarts. But when she’s gone, they are hard to resist. Resist I will, however, because I need to get a bit more fit (okay a lot) and eating a PopTart is never the way to go. Today, I’m learning to navigate the junk food isle.
In our family house my ex-y and I shared the shopping. I tended to make the runs to the local grocery store, on the way home from work, “Can I pick something up for dinner.” I was that kind of husband.
She used to make the Costco runs on the weekends. And, god bless her, she’d take the kids. I’d no more want into that movie than… well, I’d rather stay home. Probably to nap. Staying up really late, does take its toll on your energy and daytime running lights.
And the kids would come back all excited and happy. They usually got a treat of some sort. And there were these HUGE boxes of food in the Prius. And I’d unload with my ex-y and often it was all I could do to hold my tongue. Not every time, but at least every other time, she came home with about 40% crap/junk food.
Sure the kids loved Sweettarts but we didn’t need a 5-lb bag. And fruit rollups, and sugary sodas, and all kinds of popsicles and… Well, you get the idea. And you can’t (I can) blame her, going to Costco with kids in tow was a crazy hard task. Maybe if I’d a gotten up and played football with them or something… But a trip to Costco was an EVENT and they always wanted to go. Because they could pick out their own crap.
I recall several times, the very next day, when I had dinner duty, looking in the pantry and refrigerator and saying to myself, “There’s not one fkin staple in the house.” And I’d go to the local store for some tilapia or chicken. GRRRR.
And it wasn’t just the crap that the kids ate, it was the crap that was staring me in the face 24/7. You turn down a coconut popsicle at midnight, when you’re sad, tired, and alone. That part was my fault. I cannot blame my growing girth on my ex-y, but GD do we have to fill the house with all this junk food?
Halloween, Easter, Christmas, Valentine’s… wasn’t that enough? Did our house have to junk shelves year round.
A funny thing happened as I moved out and had to fend for myself, both in the grocery store and at home. I didn’t buy any junk food. Sure I’d get stuff when the kids were going to be with me for the weekend, and I still do (see picture of Cherry PopTarts) but I don’t fill the house with it. My son asks me to cut him an apple almost every night. Sure it’s a few more steps than grabbing a fruit rollup, but damn, one of them is actually good for him.
Dropping the extra pounds is my deal and my challenge. And staring at the pile of Cherry PopTarts in my pantry, I am tempted, BUT I have a strategy when shopping with my kids. If they want a treat of junk food (ONE!) I make sure it’s something I don’t really crave. PopTarts are a hit, but I don’t like Cherry. It’s great that its her favorite flavor.
Last night, late, I had a hard time not ripping into one of the shiny tempting packages of goodness. And everyday until they are gone, I will have the same temptation from time to time. And that’s another part I needed to learn: Listening to what MY body needs. And what it needs right now is a walk, not another cup of coffee.
I love PopTarts, but PopTarts don’t love me back.
Sincerely,
The Off Parent
@theoffparent
back to Single Parenting
A few other posts of interest:
- Evolving Single Dad: Failure to Hopefulness Again
- What I Need To Tell You: Take Heart. It Gets Better.
- Happy Mom Chat About How I Got Here: What I Figured Out
- Fathers Teach Their Daughters What Honest Love Looks Like
Resources:
- The Divorce Library (reading list)
- Songs of Divorce (free listening library – youtube sourced songs)
- Laugh It Off (building a resource library of funny videos and other diversions)
- Facebook (follow us on Facebook and keep up with all the conversations)
- The 5 Love Languages (a book on love styles by Gary Chapman)
image: my daughter wrote a list of the things she likes about me last weekend
