Too often we underestimate the power of a touch, a smile, a kind word, a listening ear, an honest compliment, or the smallest act of caring, all of which have the potential to turn a life around.
Leo Buscaglia
13
Jul 10
Love Letter To Commenters
I’ve been writing on this blog for almost a year. I remember the day I received my first comment. “Will! Jenny! Someone actually commented on my blog! They liked my blog enough to comment. Someone read what I wrote! You guys! Isn’t that crazy/weird/awesome/scary/fantastic?”
And then I felt self-conscious. I’m not sure why it didn’t occur to me to be self-conscious prior to receiving that first comment. But a comment does mean that someone actually read the blog, rather than some sort of spambot stopping by and doing whatever it is spambots do.
And then I received another comment.
These comments were from complete strangers. There were people out there, that I didn’t know, and they were reading and taking the time to send encouraging words back.
It felt great. Better than great. Continue reading →
11
Jul 10
Routine
As long as habit and routine dictate the pattern of living, new dimensions of the soul will not emerge.
Henry Van Dyke
Henry Van Dyke
10
Jul 10
The Stuff in Storage
Have you ever had stuff in storage? Do you pay monthly rent on a storage unit? Do you stuff boxes in an attic or on a garage shelf only to forget what is in the box, and then have to dig through to reacquaint yourself with your own belongings?
On June 23rd I put most of my life in storage. That’s an analogy. I didn’t really box everything up, label the boxes with a Sharpie, stuff the boxes on the highest shelf and turn the key on a lock that would keep ‘my stuff’ safe.
I had recently switched how my little house gained access to the internet, tried to limit how much we watched TV, and ditched the landline. I was attempting to save us some money, while still allowing us access to the things we love and can learn from, without the possibility of turning little impressionable minds into jello with all the stuff we’d been watching on TV.
On June 23rd, we were ten days into our new internet plan, and we’d surpassed our allotted budget of internet usage by $100. Yep. I didn’t do a real great job on my homework. This new plan didn’t account for how much we use the internet for learning, video streaming, Googling interesting videos on the best dogs for kids, how to design fashions for Barbie, or even watching The Jetsons.
It was a bozo move on my part. Continue reading →
05
Jul 10
When The Other Shoe Doesn’t Drop
Apparently, the Narcissist’s other shoe is not made of concrete. Apparently, the other shoe will not even be dropped. Mark received The Email from mom. And, as previously written, she dared say things I have never had the guts to say. She delivered a 2 x 4 to his forehead with more force than I thought her slender arms could produce. She blew off the end of the smoking gun, re-holstered, and stood with arms crossed, head high, waiting for a response.
I, however, metaphorically cowered in the corner while the kids chatted about firecrackers, s’mores, the cabin and the hopes of landing the first trout of the season.
The first responses were received by Will and Jenny. Mark told them, rather briefly, that he was surprised that they think he’s a bad dad. He has always felt that he was a wonderful dad. He would not be making them any promises to change anything, because he doesn’t quite know what to change.
I’ll refrain from saying something petty like, “Please refer to the previous 47 emails from the kids telling you what makes them uncomfortable.” Or, “Maybe you could start with the baby voice.”
The next day, mom received a similarly brief response. Once again, he is shocked that his parenting style is receiving any criticism. He has always believed that he was being the best father to all his kids. He mentioned that he has been quite happy, recently, and that he’s shocked that his happiness hasn’t made it possible for him to be an even better father. Continue reading →
02
Jul 10
The Boy in the Kevlar Vest
They met on the playground. He liked her shiny brown hair and the way her eyes crinkled when she smiled. She liked how smart he was and how he made her laugh. The more they played together, the more they learned how similar they were. They liked to sit in the sun and read good books. They liked to walk through the forest holding hands. They liked to sit under a tree and eat strawberries and crackers spread with peanut butter.
In the beginning, the boy told the girl lots of things about himself. He told her things he’d never told anyone else. The more he told her, the more she liked him. He was easy to be around. He made her feel comfortable. He made her feel like she could be who she was, and he would still like her.
The more he talked, the more she wanted to know. Learning about him was like reading a good book. The more she read, the more she could hardly wait to get to the end. But as she got closer to the last few chapters, something kept preventing her from reading the final pages. Someone kept interrupting her. Someone would not let her keep reading.
That someone was the boy.
The more the girl tried to read, the less he wanted her to read. Continue reading →
28
Jun 10
The Narcissist’s Other Shoe
This is the calm before the storm. Or is it? After Mark’s last email to Will, we have not heard much from him. It has been quite pleasant around here. Although, there is a part of me that wonders what’s coming next.
Will received that lengthy, mom-bashing, blame-laying, ‘your life wouldn’t be what it is today without all the sacrifices I’ve made for you’ email on the day before Father’s Day. Jenny and Will opted not to call him. On the evening of Father’s Day, Mark left a message asking only to talk to Jenny. Jenny begrudgingly returned his call on Monday. It sounded like Mark was actually asking detailed questions about her weekend. He did not ask to talk to Will.
On Tuesday, Mark called, and this time asked to talk to Will. He had some story about his neighbors, to relay to Will. He ended the conversation by saying, “Hey, I’m floating the river tomorrow. Do you want to come?” He didn’t discuss the email, or Will’s lack of response to his email. After Will got off the phone, he shook his head and said, “Dad is doing that thing where he is pretending that everything is fine.”
Will didn’t go floating with Mark.
I answered the phone on Thursday. Mark asked if the kids were home. I held up the phone and said, “You guys, it’s your dad.” They both looked at me, shook their heads, and whispered, “NO! We don’t want to talk to him.” Instead of forcing them to talk to their dad, I said, “Mark, neither one of the kids wants to come to the phone.” He sternly said, “Okay. Goodbye.” Continue reading →
26
Jun 10
CliffsNotes to a Newborn
I sat in the lobby of the old hospital building when my kids were in their last counseling session. The session was over two hours long. I sat and waited. I should have gotten groceries. I should have run to the bank. I could have done a lot of things. Will was concerned that Mark might take them ‘somewhere’ after the session. To offer Will some comfort, I promised that I’d be sitting there when the kids got out of the session.
I did not want to risk missing them and frightening them.
I sat for two hours wondering how I got to this place. How did I marry this guy? How did I get into a situation where I have to guide two precious people through this strange relationship with their dad?
I was the only person in the lobby area. I was surrounded by masculine leather furniture, elegantly arranged dried plants in over-sized urns and decorating, financial and sports magazines. I wasn’t interested in reading a magazine. All I could do was stare at the wall in front of me.
On that wall, there were three large, ornately framed, sepia-toned black and white photos of the construction of the building. The building started out as a Catholic Hospital, in 1892. The photos showed a grouping of nuns standing on the second floor, looking down as the building was blessed by an officiant from the Catholic Church. There were cars – probably Model Ts – parked on the street in front of the new construction. The photos showed workers in tattered clothes, nuns in their robes, and the Priest in vestments. The contrast was both ordinary and striking. It was a glimpse of life on this day, in a small town in the west. In that day, the hospital was a welcomed addition to this town. Continue reading →
22
Jun 10
When The Path Is Overgrown
I am the stream. I am the stream. I am the stream.
Yeah.
Whatever.
There are a few more rapids in the stream today.
I do believe in the stream. I am the stream. But, today I needed a little help getting around a humongous boulder. Continue reading →
21
Jun 10
I Am The Stream
I thought about posting the most damning quotes from the emails received from Mark in the last few days. I thought I might even write about how Mark is telling Will that while every boy needs a mom, they don’t need a mom who poisons them with the hate they feel for that boy’s dad. I thought I’d even post entire copies of those emails. (Trust me. They far exceed the 1000 word limit that a lot of bloggers prefer.) I thought of posting his criticisms and defending myself. His writings further prove his disorder, so it certainly would be more fodder for this blog.
And when I pictured myself typing those things, I saw battery acid oozing out of my finger tips. The acid flowed over the keyboard and cemented the keys, so that I could no longer type.
I can’t type that negative stuff.
I can’t give more life to his hateful words.
It was the night before Father’s Day, when Will read Mark’s recent email out loud. The kids didn’t cry. They didn’t pace the floor and exclaim that they don’t understand how their dad could write such things. They didn’t beg to sleep in my bed because they were so hurt or bruised by Mark’s words. Continue reading →
20
Jun 10
Happy Father’s Day to Me
I have learned how to throw a spiral.
I ski on the days when it’s too damn cold, though I’d rather be sitting by the fire reading a good book.
I routinely embarrass myself on the golf course.
I know the difference between an ollie, a nosegrind and a kickflip.
I laugh at their burp competitions.
I let them spit sunflower seed shells at each other – until I can’t stand it any more.
I let her cut up her new Barbie outfits because she loves to “alter” things.
I remind her every day that she’s beautiful, and strong, and smart.
I remind him that the strongest men are tender – that they don’t hide their feelings.
I watch hours of skateboarding DVDs, listen to volumes of data on the intricacies of different players’ golf swings, and help build snowboard jumps off our front step.
I let her know that what she has to say is just as important as what anyone else has to say.
I shoot hoops and play h.o.r.s.e, although sometimes I’ve been known to forget and call it h.o.u.s.e.
I carry her to bed some nights, even though she’s getting too heavy for me, because a strong daddy would carry his little girl to bed.
I try not to watch when he rides his bike ‘no hands’.
I put worms on hooks when I’d rather not. I let him mow the lawn even though I worry that he’ll get hurt. I try not to baby him in front of others, and I try to treat her like a princess without letting it go to her head.
Once in awhile, when no one is looking, I’ll let them take turns sitting in the passenger seat, and practice shifting gears
I try not to tell him to ‘knock it off’ when he drinks out of the milk carton, even though that drives me nuts. I let them squirt the whipping cream straight into their mouths.
I am trying my best.
Today I will look in the mirror and say, “Happy Father’s Day,” to myself.
To all the fathering mothers and the fathering fathers, thank you for all the good work you do.
17
Jun 10
When Fear is the Bus Driver
“Whoa! That was a fun ride!” she says, facetiously. I’m sure it won’t be the last time Fear drives this bus. But, for now, I’m back behind the wheel. I’ve got to look into getting some seat belts installed on this thing. The view from the back seat was interesting, but a little blurry because Fear was driving so fast. That’s probably why I was up the night before last, vomiting. Fear does that to me. It’s a lot like car sickness.
This morning is cold, cloudy and rainy. My mood, however, matches a 75 degree, sunny, windless day.
I’m driving now, and I have my confidence back. The ride is smoother, more leisurely, and I’m sure we’ll stop for snacks and take in a matinee.
Fear took control of the bus when I lost faith in myself and what I know to be true.
I was silencing my own voice, to better hear what others had to say. But I forgot that no one knows my kids as well as I do. No one knows their hurts, their insecurities and their fears like me, because I know how they got them. Continue reading →
15
Jun 10
Fear on the Frontlines
I am scared. My stomach hurts.
Mark talked to my mom before his counseling session today. He admitted that yesterday’s visit did not go well. He said he thinks he can’t reach Will. I’m stunned that he can see this.
My head was reeling with the sudden change in Mark’s tone.
Is he ready to discard the kids because they aren’t interested in sourcing his narcissism? He has never admitted to this strained relationship with Will before. Why now?
The kids are scheduled for a session with Mark and the counselor tomorrow. They are begging me not to make them go. They are crying. They are pleading.
I’ve told them that we are taking the ‘high road’. We will go to one more session to show Mark, and the world, that we are giving this our best. Continue reading →
14
Jun 10
From the Sidelines to the Stands
I spent some time on the sidelines. I was too close to the game, and couldn’t see the action well. I moved to the stands. I can see the game better, and it’s a lot more comfy here, too. It’s best that I’m further from the action. They can’t hear me when I fail at keeping my mouth shut. I’m sitting on one of those cushions with the attached back. There’s no one sitting in front of me, so my feet are up. I’ve got popcorn and an icy cold beer.
My kids are suiting up for another run at this ‘game’ at grandma’s. Last night, Jenny slept with me again. She’s dreading today and couldn’t get to sleep because she can’t quit thinking about how her dad just doesn’t see her. This morning, Will said, “I am done with these visits. I just feel beat down.”
I’m picturing my kids suited up for a football game. We’ve only recently gotten into watching football. There hasn’t been a dad around to spend Sundays watching the games, so we don’t really know how the game is played. Will certainly knows more than Jen and I do. But he still doesn’t understand penalties and downs and all that stuff. They are begrudgingly putting on their shoulder pads and helmets. After a few encouraging shouts from the stands, they will drag their butts up the hill to grandma’s house.
I tried the coaching bit for eleven years. Perhaps I’d have done a better job if I’d known more how the game was played. It seems the other team (Mark) keeps changing the rules. Each time my kids were tackled, I’d rush out to the field, help them up and encourage them to get back in the game. It took me quite awhile before I realized that Mark kept changing the rules. I was encouraging the kids to play fair. After each tackle, it became harder and harder to talk them into going back in for what they knew would be another hit. I hoped they’d be able to play better as they got older. At this point, they pretty much hate the game altogether. They don’t even want to be near the stadium, let alone on the field.
Now, with my mom as coach, it’ll be interesting to see how the rest of the game plays. Initially, Jen and Will were cautiously optimistic. This new coach did a better job of getting them psyched before the game. She was a lot more enthusiastic about the potential outcome. She really believed we could win this thing, and her spunk was contagious. The three of us were ready for a new coach because we were sick and tired and bruised from losing every stinkin’ game. Continue reading →
12
Jun 10
What A Dad Does
This photo reminds me of all the fun that was had around our house this week. Those drops of water are getting ready to slide down the tulip leaf. You can almost hear the drops saying, “Wheeeee!”
Kelle, my cousin’s daughter, was invited to stay Monday night. Her mom and sister went on a trip, and we thought it’d be fun to have Kel here to hang out with Jen and Will for a night and a day.
They had so much fun, that Monday night and Tuesday turned into Tuesday night …
You can see where this is going.
I started to feel bad for Joe, her dad. I thought he might be missing his daughter a bit, so we invited him for pizza Tuesday night. He arrived during major renovations. The kids hatched a plan to move the fort they had constructed in the living room, to the back yard. I dug out the inflatable mattress and the pump. We were twenty minutes into inflation when Will announced that Jenny could blow up the mattress faster than that silly pump. Joe offered to run to the other side of town to get his pump. Continue reading →
