Don't forget to remember

I watch some weird tv. The names of shows I watch will be withheld to protect the innocent, namely me. It's funny how there is stigma attached to what a person watches on television, how we tend to look down on each other for what our tastes in entertainment are. I'm as guilty as the next person although I certainly don't have any right to be considering some of the trash I watch. See? I'm judging myself!

Yesterday I was half watching a program discussing kids being mean and part way through my son and his fiancé arrived and sat down with me. I explained what the show was about and added my two cents on an aspect I thought was being missed in talking to the children who thought it was cool to be mean and it's why they were popular. It was my thought someone should be telling this kid that the other kids aren't friends with her because they like her, they're friends with her because they're afraid not to be.

The show fell by the wayside as my son and I began to talk about kids and parenting. We talked about how his desire to be friends with the class asshole(s) was thankfully short lived, that I'd taught him he need never be so pathetic as to need "friends" so badly that he'd put up with anything just to hang with the cool kids. Of course this is much easier when you have a home where you're loved and feel safe, a place to forget for a few hours the evil deeds of school peers. Yes, he did suffer through this age of constant contact with social media but I was savvy and aware and monitored his online behavior as well as that of his "friends".

As we talked, a child of six years was discussed on the now ignored program, a gorgeous little kid who doesn't listen at all to her mom. Time outs, spankings, yelling etc. be damned, this kid was having none of any of it. As we semi watch, my son (half)jokingly asks his fiancé and myself if it would be so wrong to just tie a kid like that to a chair to which we responded with a resounding YES it would be wrong, which led to talking about what I did with my son when he was little.

I was never a mom who went to someone's house and asked them to childproof their home. It was my job to watch my son, to tell him "no" and remove him from whatever had caught his eye. I remember being at my mother-in-law's and feeling exasperated, feeling like I'd be doing this for the rest of my life. I'll never forget her supporting me and encouraging me to stick with it, that it would pay off eventually, and it did.

I asked my son if he remembered my taking his doorknob out of his bedroom door. He didn't remember and asked how that wasn't like tying a kid to a chair. I explained that it was a consequence he knew would happen if he came out of his room for the seventh time and that there was a big difference between free reign of a bedroom and physical restraint. I've never believed in forced sleep because I remember how I hated that as a kid, laying in bed wide awake for hours. I did have 'bedtimes' for my son but what that meant was him in his room with a book or listening to a bedtime tape with the only expectation being that he stay in his room and sleep when he was actually ready to. When he was very small but first in a real bed, he, like most kids, would continue to come out for this reason or that. I would get the first glass of water, chase away two or three boogeymen, enjoy two or three more hugs and kisses and then I'd lay down the law. "This is the last time you are allowed to come out dear. If you come out one more time, I will take the doorknob so you can't." Of course he had to test it, it happened, and that was it. Consequence laid out, enforced, and as a result, believed. It was up to him to make the decision about whether or not his doorknob was intact or not.

The three of us talked a bit more about parenting strategies, things we thought were cool and things we thought were not so cool. My son talked about how now when he looks at the things kids struggle with it seems like they should just should know better than to succumb to peer pressure or push matters until their doorknobs are removed, and because of that maybe his fiancé should do all the parenting of any kids they may have in the future.

Hell no, we both said, kids need both their patents to be in on the action. Hey, I asked my son, have you forgotten to remember what it feels like to be a kid? I've always taught you how important that is. That although kids' problems may seem trivial or silly to adults, they are very real and as much if not more of a burden because kids are just learning to problem solve.

Oh no, he replied, for sure I remember, it's just that it seems sort of separate now from what appears obvious.

I tell him not to worry. As long as he doesn't forget to remember what it feels like to be a kid, he'll be a great dad.

NO PARENTS FOR YOU!

So you're conceived and it's not a good thing. People are freaking out, what are they gonna do? I can picture an entire scenario, worrying about being pregnant and then finding out one is. There are other reasons parents and babies are separated but my guess is for the most part, it's an unplanned, unexpected, and unwanted pregnancy.

So anyway, back to you, you who have been conceived without intent. The people who conceived you do not raise you and you go live with someone else. These people may or may not have other children, in any case, you are raised by them as a ward, they are your guardians. Not mom and dad, just, oh I don't know, Mr and Mrs maybe. Perhaps you are on a first name basis. It's obviously better this way because if some day you meet your mom and dad, it will make them feel better to know you hadn't ever called anyone else mom or dad, had no familial feelings toward anyone else.

It wouldn't be that big of a deal at parent days, or Christmas. It would help with those nasty family tree days at school. You wouldn't be expected to fill in your guardian's roots, you could fill in those of your mom and dad who you don't know or know very well. It may be a small tree with only two branches, but so what? Charlie Brown had an ugly, spindly little tree and he was still able to understand the true meaning of Christmas.

If your guardians had other children that were allowed to refer to your guardians as mom and dad, well, could make it awkward for you but it would be worth it. Your real mom and dad would be sleeping easier at night just knowing you weren't diminishing their role in your life. You wouldn't be going around pretending you actually knew your parents as that would be terribly unhealthy, fog inducing, fake. Unnatural.

I know by now you're only 5 or 8 or 10 years old but there really is no need at all to have a life long legal bond to these guardians who act like parents. You already have a heritage. It would not be good for you to think of the people you actually know as mom and dad.

What's that? You feel like your guardians are mom and dad? Hmm I was afraid of this happening. I wonder what should be done now. We could always move you somewhere else, perhaps it was a mistake finding you a permanent home in the first place. Now what? You don't want to move somewhere else? But we can't have you actually bonding with people who aren't blood related, you already got to bond with someone. Only one bond per person allowed in this life.

Now give me those Christmas stockings you made that say Mom and Dad in glitter. Yes, they are very pretty. We'll put them away for you until you meet your real mom and dad. When? Hard to say.

Maybe when you're 47?

....and I'll take the high road

So, I'm a woman who chose a bad father.

I really should have known, likely did know, but by the time it "was time" to have my first child, I went ahead and had one anyway. I'd always wanted children, always. Not unlike many other little girls, my plan was to have a baby without being married and my particular plan to accomplish that was to adopt. It only made sense. I didn't want to get married and I am adopted so, it was obvious.

When I decided boys weren't so bad, my plan changed. I still wanted a child but getting married was now appealing. I met my son's father, went out for 3 years, got married, and had my son 3 years after that. Before "settling down" I went out with more than my fair share of guys, had my own apartments from a young age, sowed my wild oats, if us girl types can do that.

I admit I had concerns before I actually said my vows, but, went through with it anyway. When it came to baby making time, my son's dad started to hedge. He knew from day one I'd be wanting kids, he had insisted on getting married in the Catholic church for his parents, so I told him flat out if he wasn't willing to have kids now, I'd see what I could do about getting our marriage annulled. I still have no clue if that would be grounds or not, but no matter, it did the trick. We tried once, I was preggo, and I had my son. Simple. Yet not.

While I was pregnant, my son's dad enjoyed the thought of becoming a dad but wasn't having any of the responsibilities that went with it. I managed to convince a friend of ours to help with the nursery reno, nothing big, just something that would indicate we had a baby coming. It was also sweet for my husband to have a personal designated driver. When I had my son his dad tried to get away with not telling anyone he'd been born, no hospital visitors, not surprisingly my parents would have nothing to do with that. I remember my dad saying there was "no chance in hell" they'd not be coming to the hospital to see their daughter and first grandchild.

My son's dad clearly loved our son from the minute he was born. He was a very good baby dad, no problem feeding, changing, bathing, playing. Unfortunately at this time though, he wasn't a great husband. Good dad, crappy husband. Sucks to be me.

I'm a firm believer in not making adult's problems kid's problems. If things got out of hand between my husband and myself, I would remove my boy and I from the situation. When my son was very small, I tried to discuss ending our marriage with my ex but he managed to be remorseful enough and make just enough promises to change but it never happened.

I remember daydreaming about being out of the marriage. I'd look at new apartments being built in our neighborhood and ache to be gone, be done with the day to day angst and stress I lived with. But how could I? I had picked this man. Nobody had held a gun to my head to marry him, to have a baby with him. I had become extremely adept at protecting my boy from the fights, the anger, my pain. I attended everything I wanted to attend with only my son as my date, I played all my sports with my boy in tow, I worked opposite shifts to avoid daycare until he was in school full time. The good of an intact family still outweighed the bad.

And then he started to grow up. I had already made the decision to have no more children with this kind of father. It was clear to me what I'd done, the problem now was it was also becoming clear to my son what I'd done. What he was seeing wasn't yet what a poor father he had but rather what a poor husband his dad was to me, his mom. I could no longer hide Christmas being miserable or explain why daddy wouldn't help us with a flat tire. How do you explain waiting for hours on Easter to hunt for bunnies because dad is still in bed? How do you tell a child not to defend his mom when dad is screaming as he drives? When he's swearing and name calling because the door isn't unlocked as quickly as he'd like it to be?

It wasn't an easy decision. I remember the day I went to tell my parents I was leaving my marriage. I can honestly say I was very surprised when they told me that they were surprised I hadn't done it years prior. I remember the relief because I truly felt as if I'd failed, that they would be disappointed in me.

We made the decision to split when my son was 12. After deciding, I remember living as a couple for the few months until school was done for the year. I remember the day we told our son, how frightened I was, how sad he was initially, how quickly he appeared to get over his immediate reaction.

I got to work finding a place to live right away. I included my son in all of my apartment hunting. There was one place in particular that was going to be within my budget that he was very opposed to. He had his reasons, they were valid, I kept looking. I was determined to find a place within walking distance to our house, the one he'd grown up in, and I did.

I gave him the big bedroom so he'd have somewhere to be with his friends. I bought him a new bed so his room at his dad's would remain untouched. His cat came with us even though it was against the rules because his dad "wanted it out!" I took no formal child support, deciding to leave it up to his dad to step up to the plate and contribute to our child's well being. I didn't want any more fighting, and took much criticism from friends and family but I didn't care. He was my son and I could do it myself if I had to.

It wasn't easy, but it was so much better. I took the highest road I possibly could. No child support, very little in the way of furniture or household items. One lawyer to serve us both in a legal separation, I didn't get an official divorce until years later, when I had to, and again with one lawyer to represent us both. No court, no excess expense. Custody was joint with me being the main caregiver. That I wouldn't have any other way. We lived close enough that our son could walk between homes as he desired, although his dad did try to force my son to visit fifty percent of the time, in case I ever decided to take child support.

My son's dad never once put our son before himself. He spoke badly of me to our son. He did nothing to make his and our son's time together enjoyable, something our son could look forward to. Eventually the only time my son would be at his dad's, in the home he'd lived his first twelve years, is when his dad wasn't there.

Now, he doesn't even do that.

After we left my extended family last week, my son and I were discussing the tragedy of these women  and their children that we care so much about. We talked about how important it is to realize when the good no longer outweighs the bad. How important it is to think about what kind of an example we're setting for kids. How one can only sympathize for so long and then it just becomes pity and disdain.

I will forever regret choosing a poor father for my son. It kills me to see the hurt in my boy's eyes but I listen, I encourage, I understand.

I take pride in not being selfish and having more kids with a poor father in a bad marriage. I take pride in how I handled myself through divorce. I take pride in knowing when it was time to stop the madness.

I take pride in watching my son treat his girlfriend with respect, kindness, patience, and in knowing my son will be an amazing father.

Be grateful, because you should be.

I've just spent time with women who chose to have children with men who are bad fathers. One has children who are grown and are helping their mom with the death of her husband, their dad. The other has three daughters, with the oldest being "almost 14". I know the parties involved as they're my aunt and cousin, two different generations of moms who for some reason refuse and refused to protect their children as best they can or could from fathers who are unwilling or unable to put their kids before themselves. As a result, NOBODY is putting their children before themselves. They refuse and refused to see the good no longer outweighs the bad, and didn't and won't do anything about it.

The women in my story are not evil. In fact, I love them both very much. My aunt is sweet...now. She wasn't always, in fact I use to look at her in horror when I was a child, wondering how a mom could verbally abuse beautiful, innocent little kids in the way she did when her children were young. Somehow along the way though she was able to turn this around, become a sweet, caring woman who I've been very fond of for many years. Maybe she just didn't like babies or little kids. No matter though, damage done.

My cousin is sweet, has always been. She lost her own father at a young age and luckily had a mom who was completely dedicated to her kids and grandkids. A mom who did all she could to raise 3 children on her own, and to me was a hero in how she coped with the many severe health issues that ultimately took her life, far too young. One would think that with a role model like this, my cousin would be strong when it came to her own children, she'd emulate her mother's determination and dedication to mothering, but no. She's weak, more concerned with keeping her daughters' father as her husband than how this "man" is influencing three little girls' view of themselves, and of the world.

It's strange to care about and love two people that I can have such disdain for. I watched my grown cousins console their mother and accept words of condolence from family friends.I heard the priest tell them how their father will be forgiven and cared for now by god, heard people tell them how great a guy their dad was.I listened to my grown cousin tell me how difficult it was to stand there and have people tell him what a good guy his dad was when he knew the truth, had suffered and still suffers from the truth.

I held my tongue as I listened to my cousin's daughter who's "almost 14" be told parents know best, that she was to listen to her mom and dad as they know everything. This little girl has the honour of being confidante to her parents, the privilege of knowing all the gritty details of her father's infidelity and mother's heartache and pathetic attempts to "keep her man". A little girl who wrote emails to the would-be mistress telling her to stay away from her daddy. A little girl who shed tears in my home when her dad sulked in the car because it hurt his feelings to be told it was uncomfortable to have him around so soon after he decided to fuck over his family, no pun intended. A little girl who is blessed to have as a father a man incapable of even sucking it up for an hour so his wife and daughters could enjoy a family reunion. A little girl with two younger sisters she tries to protect, who may also never know there's another way.

Both of these mothers had and have opportunity to leave these men who are a detriment to their children but chose and choose to stay. The effect on their babies is not as important as their personal desire to remain married to these bad fathers. To allow these men to influence their children in life and haunt them in death is  cruel and selfish and not a way any parent should behave.

But parents don't always behave they way they should. If you happen to have gotten one or two that do, whether blood related or not, be grateful, cause you should be.

Dads matter. Imagine how things could be if only more of them knew it.

It's Father's Day, and it's making me a bit sad.

My father is no longer with me physically but he's in my heart and mind, not on any higher pedestal than he deserves. I try hard not to allow my dead people to become better than they really were. I don't see the point as I try to learn from their mistakes, as well as my own. Nobody is perfect, but their combination of goodness and imperfections can make for the perfect person for someone else, and my dad was that. The perfect father for me.

My husband is a father, but not to my child. My husband underestimates his importance to his children, as I think many fathers do. I hope I've added to his relationship with his sons in that I try to help him see how much a hug can mean, how saying "I love you son" or "I'm proud of you" once in a while is a good thing. My husband is a very good dad and has been there for his boys in ways I doubt they even know about.

My nieces have no dad as their father is my brother who died 5 years ago. My brother was a wonderful father and it's sad these girls don't have him. They need him and their life is forever altered by the loss of him at such young ages.

My son's dad. I'm careful when I talk about my son's dad for the simple fact he's my son's dad. I think because I'm respectful of this it allows my son to turn to me when his dad's not stepping up to the plate. I took the high road in the breakdown of my marriage, something for which I've been criticized by some who aren't my son, but it's been the right decision. My son is able to trust that he comes before any animosity I may hold or have held for his father, and I think that's huge. All kids know when their parent(s) suck, but they usually love them anyway and hold hope that some day it will be different. They don't want anyone trashing their mom or dad, even if they're doing it themselves.

I take responsibility for choosing this kind of dad for my son, because I did.

I'm sad today for those who are without their dad that's perfect for them and for those who've never had one.

Dads matter, and for those that know or knew  it, a very happy Father's day to you.