I have decided that I may need to change my original intent for this blog, as many of the thoughts and feelings I've felt tempted to share are not the sort of things I want my sons to read someday. Perhaps I'll need to create a separate "kid-friendly" version for them.
While taking a walk a few weeks ago (a glorious, guilt-free, hour-long walk with no concerns about what was happening at home because summer was over and my boys were back with their dad), I had an uncomfortable epiphany: I am one of those people who doesn't want to grow up. Now, I don't mean I want to be a teen again--although having my 20s back knowing what I know now about my own talents and sexuality would be nice, but that's another post. No, I realized that I don't like being responsible for anyone else.
I should have known this about myself. I've always been a bit of an introvert, and I never was a joiner. Being part of a club or committee means having to follow someone else's schedule and possibly having others depend on me. How could I not have realized being a parent would be a million times worse? In the words of my step-daughters, I am an epic fail at establishing and keeping to any routine. In the summer, if the kids don't remind me, I will forget to make lunch. My oldest suffers from chronic constipation and needs to consume 16 grams of fiber every day. This is important, and he is just now reaching an age where he can take more responsibility for his diet, but we'll still get to the end of a day and I'll realize I haven't kept track of his intake or made enough dishes to meet his needs.
As much as I love my boys--I love hearing the silly jokes they make up, playing catch in the park, watching them dance, beating B. at cards--I also love the fact that I am not a full-time parent, at least not the kind of hyper-involved parent that seems to be in vogue today. Their step-mom is much better at this. She stays at home, meets them at the bus after school (a whole 1/2 block away and visible from the front window of the house) and has dinner on the table at 5:30 every night (I know this because she commented that the boys know it is their job to set the table and shouldn't have to be reminded since dinner is always at the same time).
When the kids are here in the summer, I feel like I have to be that kind of mom, which just leaves me incredibly stressed and anxiously awaiting the fall. Although, as I think about it, their step-mom stresses them out too. I'm sure it is tough for them to go from one extreme of parenting to the other, but when they are parents themselves, I hope they will realize that one does not have to live for one's children. My parents didn't, some of the parents I respect the most don't, and I'm starting to forgive myself for living my life for me.
Friday, September 23, 2011
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
Getting Started
me: Do you think we need to see a counselor?
him: I've already talked to a lawyer.
Almost six years ago that short conversation with my now ex-husband set my life on a course that I could have never imagined. I want to believe that my situation is not unique, but even now I find few moms who, like me, do not have primary custody of their children. When I made the decision--more on that later--I lost or at least became alienated from many friends. And let's not even go into the reaction of my parents. Suffice it to say they have adjusted and I can still talk to my mom because I didn't finish the letter from her after I saw the phrase "you are supposed to be the adult."
Maybe my experience would have been easier had I begun this blog earlier--and I don't pretend to be confident in my parenting now--but I have made great progress toward accepting the guilt and building a strong relationship with my sons (B and J.C.). Someday, I want them to understand why mommy moved so far away (200 miles) and could not be the one they came home to after school everyday. I have never been one to keep a diary or journal; what's the point of writing if you don't have an audience? So, I will share these memories and musings with you and then someday collect them to share with my boys.
This first post is just to lay out how I came to be the "weekend mom" (technically "summer mom" too as I teach so the boys spend most of the summer break with me).
When my ex expressed his desire for a divorce right before labor day weekend, I must confess that I felt as if the weight of the world had been lifted from me. Things hadn't been right, and I know now that I had not been in love with him for some time, but with two very young children (4 1/2 and 21 months) I would never have been the one to suggest we split.
At first, we planned to share joint custody. That worked well until June the next year, when I moved. I mentioned losing friends, right? Well, they couldn't forgive that I moved for a man. Yes, I, who had never had more than one official "boyfriend" and had hardly dated before meeting my husband at age 23, had created a profile on Match.com and met someone I was willing to move 200 miles to join.
(Just to relieve your suspense--we've been together since and were just married on New Year's Day.)
I completely expected to take the boys with me. Doesn't the mom always get custody? After I told my ex of my plans, he left the coffee shop almost in tears and then called me later. After growing up without his father, he was determined not to let someone else raise his children. He would fight me for custody.
My choices (as I saw them): spend thousands of dollars in court and create an animosity in what had been a very amicable divorce, or admit that my ex was a good parent and that letting B start kindergarten with his friends from daycare and letting both boys continue to live in the only house they had ever known made more sense than dragging them to a new house and into the middle of a new relationship. I chose the latter.
Was I being selfish? Quite likely. That's where the guilt comes from.
Did my choice mean that my ex and I can easily sit down and have conversations about the boys and can be supportive of each other's parenting (even more than when we were together)? Definitely.
One year after the conversation that opened this post I was living in a new part of the state, beginning a new job, and struggling to reconcile the sense of freedom I felt with the nagging realization my freedom might have come at the cost of my children's happiness. Now, I believe my boys and I are building a strong, if unusual, relationship--one better than many "full-time" parents share with their kids.
him: I've already talked to a lawyer.
Almost six years ago that short conversation with my now ex-husband set my life on a course that I could have never imagined. I want to believe that my situation is not unique, but even now I find few moms who, like me, do not have primary custody of their children. When I made the decision--more on that later--I lost or at least became alienated from many friends. And let's not even go into the reaction of my parents. Suffice it to say they have adjusted and I can still talk to my mom because I didn't finish the letter from her after I saw the phrase "you are supposed to be the adult."
Maybe my experience would have been easier had I begun this blog earlier--and I don't pretend to be confident in my parenting now--but I have made great progress toward accepting the guilt and building a strong relationship with my sons (B and J.C.). Someday, I want them to understand why mommy moved so far away (200 miles) and could not be the one they came home to after school everyday. I have never been one to keep a diary or journal; what's the point of writing if you don't have an audience? So, I will share these memories and musings with you and then someday collect them to share with my boys.
This first post is just to lay out how I came to be the "weekend mom" (technically "summer mom" too as I teach so the boys spend most of the summer break with me).
When my ex expressed his desire for a divorce right before labor day weekend, I must confess that I felt as if the weight of the world had been lifted from me. Things hadn't been right, and I know now that I had not been in love with him for some time, but with two very young children (4 1/2 and 21 months) I would never have been the one to suggest we split.
At first, we planned to share joint custody. That worked well until June the next year, when I moved. I mentioned losing friends, right? Well, they couldn't forgive that I moved for a man. Yes, I, who had never had more than one official "boyfriend" and had hardly dated before meeting my husband at age 23, had created a profile on Match.com and met someone I was willing to move 200 miles to join.
(Just to relieve your suspense--we've been together since and were just married on New Year's Day.)
I completely expected to take the boys with me. Doesn't the mom always get custody? After I told my ex of my plans, he left the coffee shop almost in tears and then called me later. After growing up without his father, he was determined not to let someone else raise his children. He would fight me for custody.
My choices (as I saw them): spend thousands of dollars in court and create an animosity in what had been a very amicable divorce, or admit that my ex was a good parent and that letting B start kindergarten with his friends from daycare and letting both boys continue to live in the only house they had ever known made more sense than dragging them to a new house and into the middle of a new relationship. I chose the latter.
Was I being selfish? Quite likely. That's where the guilt comes from.
Did my choice mean that my ex and I can easily sit down and have conversations about the boys and can be supportive of each other's parenting (even more than when we were together)? Definitely.
One year after the conversation that opened this post I was living in a new part of the state, beginning a new job, and struggling to reconcile the sense of freedom I felt with the nagging realization my freedom might have come at the cost of my children's happiness. Now, I believe my boys and I are building a strong, if unusual, relationship--one better than many "full-time" parents share with their kids.
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