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Monthly Archives: February 2012

Shopping with Girls

Whenever feasible, my ex-wife and I try to arrange it so that the kids can get some one on one time with each of us. Saturdays are usually time for my oldest and I since she has horseback riding lessons and that’s kind of become our thing. We then grab lunch afterward and sometimes, as was the case this past Saturday, go shopping.

On the agenda this particular Target trip was a new pair of jeans. Now, I’d been shopping with my wife as well as ex-girlfriends before. As is the case for many husbands and boyfriends, shopping isn’t necessarily at the top of our bucket list. But as we were going back and forth between the floor and the dressing rooms something hit me like a bolt of lightening. It dawned on me that one day, it will be HER boyfriend shopping with her. I was immediately flooded by an overwhelming flurry of thoughts and revelations about my previous relationships including my marriage.

Before I continue, I would like to point out that I am indeed a guy. And as a guy, there are many things that completely pass over my head. In many cases it may be years before what may appear obvious to others, becomes a lightbulb in my own brain. Please keep that in mind as you read on.

It dawned on me while I was shopping with my daughter that I had an opportunity to set an example. By that I simply mean, make it a great experience for her and make it all about her and be as patient as possible. That way, when some young lad is a jerk to her perhaps she’ll look back and realize that’s not acceptable. Maybe on some level, as her first true male relationship, I have a chance to set a precedent and a way for her to gauge how boys treat her later in life. It may seem like a “duh” moment, especially to women, but I don’t think it ever really hit me just how grand an opportunity I have as her dad to be what I feel she deserves to have later in life.

But it didn’t stop there. The pain from the first demolition ball hadn’t quite dissipated before, ugh, I was stopped dead in my tracks and was almost knocked unconcience by a second revelation that seriously rocked me to the core. As I considered my daughter’s future boyfriends waltzing around Target with her, I began to look back at the number of times I neglected to treat my own wife the way I would want a young man to treat my little girl. On just how many occasions had I been an ass and made a simple experience like shopping for jeans a miserable experience. I realize it’s apples and oranges on some levels, but in many ways it’s more like comparing Granny Smith and Macintosh. What a smack to the gut it was to recognize that there had been so many circumstances in our relationship when I acted in a manner that, if I were watching a boy act the same way to my daughter, I’d be none too pleased.

Now, I’m not talking about anything physical or extreme. And maybe on some level a father’s expectation is unrealistic. But I think as a husband, and then ultimately as a father, we don’t even realize when we may be condescending or less than chivalrous. As the father of little girls, perhaps the greatest thing we can do as dads is to consider that how we’re acting toward them today will likely affect the way they look at young suiters tomorrow. Will we be a gauge for what they feel they deserve in terms of respect and consideration. How much will the way we approach a simple action like shopping for clothes dictate how they expect their boyfriend or husband to handle the same situation or even something on a deeper emotional level? My wife tried to point this out to me on some level more than once and it just didn’t register for one reason or another. I mean, it did to a point, but not to the extent that the revelations hit me during this latest trip to the circle and the dot.

So the way I see it, I have a choice and an opportunity to be something to my daughters that perhaps I wasn’t always a good example of as a husband. I want them to see what they should expect their partner to be later on in life. It’s a chance for me to take another good hard look in the mirror and become a better father and at the same time, perhaps a better partner for someone in the future.

And it doesn’t stop there. I can only imagine how the way I react to my daughters will affect the way my son reacts to women as HE gets older as well. All three of them are sponges which begs the question, what sort of spills are we leaving for them to soak up?

So, after trying on eight or ten pair she found two that were a perfect fit. And I, in turn, walked away with some invaluable insights that hopefully will stop me when I start to turn into someone I don’t want my daughter going out with 10 (or 20) years from now. Honestly, it was one of my favorite shopping experiences of all time. If I have any regret, it’s that I hadn’t utilized more of those opportunities to bond with my ex-wife as much as I did my daughter. Not that it necessarily would have saved my marriage. But maybe it would have been a step in the right direction. A direction I hope to maintain as my relationship with my daughters continues to grow.

 

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The Dreaded Comfort Zone!

Throughout my own childhood, my parents rarely forced me to follow through on anything that I resisted with enough gusto. Whether it was piano lessons, swimming lessons or cleaning my room, if I displayed enough resistance, I could pretty much count on getting out of it. That’s not to say I wasn’t encouraged. But things generally came easy for me and if it was something I enjoyed, of course I did my best. But the minute something became difficult or was outside my comfort zone, I would typically resist it with great fervor. My parents, subsequently, never pushed me very hard and I could usually find a way to get out of following through. It’s a truth I look back on and resent in some form or fashion. And I often wonder if they were wrong to let me get my way? Could I have benefited from being pushed a little harder. Could they have been stricter? Or would that have created an entirely different set of issues later on?

These questions race through my head as I see my middle child progressing. She’s the one who goes kicking and screaming to things. But then typically, in most instances she is the one I have the most trouble getting to leave once we get there. She has a definitive comfort zone. Wants to be a fashion designer and study in Paris. (She’s currently 7, but this has been a truth for the past 3 to 4 years). She is not very open to experiencing things that require putting herself out there. But usually, once she does she excels. Ice skating is a perfect example. Didn’t want to do it. Didn’t want to do it. Fought through the first four lessons. Then BAM! She loved it!

So it took me by surprise when we decided to go roller skating and she said no. She fought the idea in typical fashion. But rather than let her have us all sitting at home, I forced the issue, assured she would warm up once we got there. So we piled in the car and headed to the skate center. And even after we got in and my skates were secure, she resisted despite my best efforts. I tried every maneuver I know. Encouragement, bribery, guilt, you name it. But her will was strong and she was miserable. So, after watching her look dejected as her brother, sister and I made our way around the rink three or four times, I ditched the skates and dropped another twenty on the claw machine while her sister got her laps in.

So what’s a parent to do? When do you push? When do you give? I think it’s important to expose your kids to as many different experiences and activities as you can and push them to see it through to a point where you know they’ve at least given it a shot. One lesson doesn’t count. They have to work through some difficulty to truly appreciate whether or not this is something they’ll carry with them. But at what point is it pushing too hard? This little one is a feisty, stubborn, stomp her foot kind of gal. She’s as determined as any child I’ve ever met. From the time she could walk, it was obvious she would require much more encouragement and prodding than her older sister. But how much is too much? When do you let her be who she is and when do you force her outside her comfort zone?

That’s when it dawned on me. What about OUR comfort zones. What about the other two kids and myself. Seems like we’re always trying to get the middle one to go our way. So, my mission for this week is to find an activity that is all about her that we can do together. Rather than push her outside her own comfort zone, I’m going to first push myself outside mine. Then I’ll push the other two along with us. For the next two weeks I think I’m going to encourage and “push” the rest of us to walk a mile in the middle child’s shoes. And also encourage her to push us a bit. Maybe if she sees us willing to go the extra mile, she’ll be a little more open to trying new things herself. Teach by example maybe?

Stay tuned for updates as this ought to be an interesting two weeks.

And suggestions are welcome!

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Have a great week.

 

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Parental Dilemma #1

This will be the first in a series of posts focused on parental dilemmas that I encounter from time to time. In each instance the behavior of my kids will have both a negative overtone and a positive one and I’ll be trying, with your help, to determine which is the lessor of two evils.

In today’s installment, I came downstairs after family movie night to find the kids cleaning the kitchen.

Once I came to, I realized that it was well past their bed time.

So the dilemma: Reprimand them for being up past their bedtime or praise them for cleaning. Now, I knew and they knew, that their motivation was money. The eldest wanted a new e-book and had just created a chore list and a corresponding rate sheet per chore.

Regardless of the motivation, I took the stance of … “CLEANING?!!! You missed a spot!”

What would YOU do?

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Cleaning House!

Sitting here on a Saturday cleaning. The kids are with their mom and I have a rare pocket of time where I can actually focus on reclaiming the house. When I started this morning, I honestly couldn’t remember if my daughter had hardwoods or carpet. It’s carpet.

Rediscovering the power of the purge as well. It’s liberating to just throw stuff out that hasn’t been touched in months. Each toss into the can is like five pounds off my mental shoulders. Simplify my friends … simplify. It’s also fun to see if the kids notice anything missing when they come home. And just so that you don’t judge me to quickly, I only throw out the stuff they haven’t played with in 9-10 months. (He said only half convincingly)

Doing some mental cleaning as well. Tuesday will be my first Valentine’s day as a single in 14 years. Not really sure how I feel about that to be honest with you. I spent 31 years on my own before getting married. You get used to thinking for yourself after that much time and having now rediscovered the joy of that truth, I find myself struggling with the concept of dating again. I enjoyed being married but many things were missing from our relationship including that sense of just loving being around each other. I don’t think my ex-wife would argue too much with that statement. It was something we both wanted terribly, but just didn’t feel.

A camp counselor once told me, “make sure you’re in-love with the person not idea of being in-love.” True that. So as much as I would like to be with my soul mate, having been through a marriage and a divorce there are still many walls protecting this heart and soul. Walls that I put a lot of time and effort into building. And while I recognize that they’re going to need to come down at some point, much like my house, I think I need to do some purging first. There’s a lot of clutter I need to sort through and find the courage to just ‘toss’ in order to make room for new emotions. I think once I accomplish that I’ll find it easier to knock out a few bricks and let some sunshine in.

 

 

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Oh Grow up!

I often catch myself having to remind myself that my children are not 25 year old adults. They don’t possess the life experiences nor the mental or emotional capacity to handle certain truths about life. Though many times they emulate the actions of someone far beyond their years, in my heart I know that they’re still under ten making the parental approach a difficult tight rope to walk at times. I’m sure, more often than not, they get mixed signals from both their mother and me. “You’re old enough to know better,” “you’re too young to understand,” “as the oldest, you should set an example,” “you’re not the mom.” Kind of hard to blame them for not always knowing how they’re supposed to act.

It’s enough to drive a parent crazy. And yet are they really all that much different than we are? I understand there are developmental stages. A seven-year-old’s world revolves around them. Again, are they all that much different than some adults? At least at seven, there’s hope that their parents will demonstrate that they’re only a small planet in their universe.

My sister once told me about a day she got into an argument with her then 5 year old son. And damn if he didn’t convince her through his own reasoning that he was right. All too often we look down on our kids thinking “you’re six what can you know?” And yet I’m continually floored at just how much they comprehend. It doesn’t always mean that they understand how to approach the situation, but I think they have the ability to grasp more than we sometimes give them credit for.

Walking that fine line between teaching them respect and encouraging them to be independent isn’t always an easy task. Lately I’ve been catching myself jumping to conclusions and not letting my oldest daughter explain herself, convinced I already know what she’s going to say. My ex-wife used to tell me I did it all the time. Now I see it. That doesn’t make it any easier to stop, but I think sometimes (and I’ve mentioned this in previous posts) they just want to be heard. They want to feel like their opinion and their insights matter. They want an opportunity to test their theories to see if they’re ‘getting it.’ Sometimes it’s as easy as just holding our tongue
and giving them those few precious seconds to explain what they’re thinking and then do our best to validate their thoughts.

So much easier said than done and I’m by no means preaching. I’m the worst when it comes to listening, especially when I’m in a hurry. The word condescending was used once to me in describing how a dad can come across to his daughters. I don’t think it’s intentional. But the very act of cutting off a child in mid-sentence and telling them they’re wrong before they’ve had a chance to explain their reasoning can be
considered nothing less than demeaning and belittling. I know I hate it when people do it to me and I’m 45. Yet it’s such an easy trap to fall into.

I’ve noticed on some occasions, at the end of the day when her younger sister and brother are in bed, my oldest will start to talk to me. Not like a little kid, but like a young adult. And on one of those occasions, I stopped myself and just listened. I watched her and took it all in. Took note of the intensity of her expressions as she explained a situation at school and how she approached it. It was all I could do not to jump in and offer advice, but somehow I managed to hold it in and I realized that her insights were remarkable. The discussion we had was more adult like than I’ve had with some so called adults. And all I had to do was listen.

Lately I haven’t been doing a very good job of that. I’ve gotten too wrapped up in my own world of chaos, angst and problem solving, leaving little if any room for the thoughts of others especially my kids. Such an easy trap to fall into. We get so lost in our own heads we don’t even notice the world passing by. A world that could easily help us answer some of our own questions if we could stop long enough to just … listen.

So tomorrow I’m going to try to do a better job of doing just that. To the 7 year old and the 47 year old. If I can be a little less childish, maybe it’ll give those around me a chance to be a little more grown up. Hell, perhaps my children will notice and make an attempt to listen to me a little better as well. I think it’s at least worth a shot.

 

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Pace Yourself

For me, a big aspect of life is pacing yourself and building momentum. It started when I began running competitively at the ripe ole’ age of seven and as I would get older I would notice many parallels between life and running. The most important of these was the importance of understanding your own limits and how to properly pace yourself. The biggest problem for me was that I was horribly impatient. It took everything I had not to sprint out in the lead and burn out in the first 100 yards of a mile race.

This fundamental truth paralleled my own life as I wanted everything to happen immediately and I always came out of the gate strong only to burn out quickly. It was a pattern that would be both a blessing and a curse throughout my career. I’d be full of enthusiasm and vigor for about six months and then burn out. If I was lucky I’d make it through a few weeks of recharging the batteries and I’d be off and running again. If not, I’d eventually move on to something more challenging and exciting and even more exhausting.

By now you’re probably wondering, “what in God’s green earth does that have to do with being a divorced father of three?” Well that’s a good question. When you’re a parent you really don’t get many opportunities to recharge. If you’re lucky you have a spouse who can pick up the ball and run with it when you crash. But when you’re a divorced, single parent that luxury is gone. Even if you have the support of an ex-wife or other family members, when the kids are with you, it’s all on your shoulders to keep it moving. There’s no running to the grocery store to pick up milk without getting all three dressed and transitioned to the car. The three of them can become life a school of piranah all feeding off of your existence. You’re constantly on the move, constantly going. Sit for five seconds and one of them is bound to yell, “DADDDDDDD … there’s no toilet paper!!!!”

At first you envision the end of the week finish line. Sunday at six they’ll go to their mom’s and you’ll be able to regroup. But that’s when you catch up with client work and getting the house back in order. Suddenly it’s Sunday again and the house still isn’t together, the work isn’t completed and you have to pick up the kids in an hour. You forgot to restock the fridge and the jeans you know your daughter is going to want to wear to school in the morning are still in the laundry basket. It’s a never ending vicious cycle.

The first few months I was all over it. Piece of cake I said to myself. I’ve got this. But then I started noticing that I was pacing myself for a 5K not a marathon. It wasn’t long before I started freaking out, afraid I’d hit the wall sooner than later. Little things started getting missed. An extra pair of shoes on the kitchen floor. Toys left laying around in the bonus room. The car was starting to get creepy dirty. Lunches started getting made 15 minutes before the kids had to be on the bus rather than the night before. Papers were piling up on my desk. Laundry was getting done, but there were little piles strewn throughout the house waiting to be put away.

I was slipping and falling to the back of the pack and I wasn’t seeing a finish line.

The end.

Just kidding.

Sort of.

Eventually you crash. It’s inevitable. Your body and mind simply aren’t in shape for this long a run. I finally gave myself a day to just veg. I crashed on the couch and shut off all the computers and tv’s and just did nothing but sleep. I kept the phone on in case of an emergency but otherwise shut the world out cold turkey. It was liberating. The next morning I woke up a little groggy, but after a cup of coffee and an hour of decompression, I felt renewed and had a fresh perspective on my new reality. Was it bliss after that? Hell no. Life was still waiting for me on the other side. But I at least had the mental capacity to face it and deal with it with a clearer head.

I continue to struggle with the constant movement and with trying to keep up with everything that is my world. Raising three kids and building a small business both require 110% of my being. That’s 220%. Who has that? And sometimes I fall back in the pack a little. Despite the dishes being cleaned, the laundry folded and the carpets vacuumed the house still feels cluttered and a bit unkept. Work is still overwhelming. I freak about having enough business and the paperwork is piled on my desk, but after every meltdown I’m a little more confident that I can keep things moving. Surrounding myself with supportive people helps. Maintaining a good relationship with my ex-wife helps. All of it put together creates a make shift safety net of sorts.

But it’s a lot. And at some point you have to acknowledge that what you’re trying to cope with is physically demanding and emotionally draining. Somewhere in that mess, as difficult as it is, you need to find a way to cut yourself some slack. Stop and go for a run or head to the “Y” for an hour to allow yourself a chance to clear your head. Sneak a nap in when you can. The laundry can wait. It’s not the end of the world if your daughter has to wear a pair of pants she doesn’t like once in a while. She’ll get over it and the boy sitting next to her will still like her. And if he doesn’t he’s a jerk anyway and she can do SO much better.

But back to the point. What’s important is that you keep in mind this truly is a marathon not a 5k. That’s the reality. It’s important to find a pace that works for you and adjust your life accordingly. Some miles will be easier than others. There will be hills but there will also be flats. Once in a while you may need to walk. And that’s o.k. I think what I’m coming to grips with is the fact that there really is no finish line. A pit stop here and there maybe, but no checkered flag. There won’t be that moment when you break the tape. And yet somehow you win. There are little victories every day. That’s what you need to focus on. The small triumphs that let you know you’re making progress. Give yourself those little trophies. Embrace them. Recognize that you’ve earned them. Then check your laces, stretch your back and start the next mile. Just be sure to pace yourself.

 

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Hot and Cold

I started writing this entry last week when the kids were staying with their mom. I find my mental state fluctuates a great deal depending on whether they’re staying at my house or hers so I thought I’d wait until I could have a more objective take on the difference. As is typically the case, I still get to see the kids a great deal, even on my off weeks. Regardless of whether my ex and I are annoyed with each other for some reason or on good terms, somehow we still manage to put the bigger picture into perspective and help each other out or give the other a chance to do something special with one or more of the rugrats. It’s comforting to know that on any given day I might get to spend a little time with them even when they’re with their mom. It’s not always easy … but again … important to look at the big picture.

One element that is difficult to grow accustomed to on my off weeks is the quietness of the house when they’re not here. There is an element of completeness when they’re living here that comes with making lunches for school, tucking them in, waking them up (or them waking me up), picking them up at the bus stop, doing homework, making dinner as a family etc. Conversely, there’s a bit of withdrawal that happens on the off weeks that’s impossible to fully overcome. It’s a stark reminder of the new reality and as much as I try to take advantage of the “me” time and the ability to work without interruption, or hang out with friends, there’s still a void or emptiness. It’s almost as if I’m living a double life.

I suppose that will always be the case. I’m fairly certain and would expect that my ex-wife experiences the same thing and I’m sure the kids feel it too on some level. Even though at all times they have a foundation, the shifting has to wear on them. As much as we try to communicate about rules, parenting, punishments, etc., there’s still going to be a difference in the environments which on some level has to be a bit of a shock to the system for the kids. I do my best to remember on the weeks that I have the kids that my ex is probably going through many of the same emotions I go through when they’re with her. The withdrawal that occurs when you drop them off is unmistakable. You can plan all you want and think about how much you’re going to get done when you get back to the empty house, but inevitably when you get home you go through a decompression that has you on the couch reflecting on the week and adjusting to the silence.

As much as we’ve grown and as much as we’ve adjusted, there are obvious aspects of this new reality that will take a long time to grow accustomed to. Seeing their mom on a regular basis, knowing what we were to each other once up on a time, knowing where we stand now, wondering where we’ll stand 3 years from now; it can all be very overwhelming as you try to put things into perspective. All I can do for now is enjoy them to the fullest when I can and focus on the fact that they laugh a lot. They sing in the shower. They giggle and hug a lot. Honestly, if I didn’t know better, I’d swear some days they seem more grown up than I do.

I know I’ve said it repeatedly, but it really does deserve repeating. Whatever you experience emotionally when it comes to the kids works both ways. Whatever you’re experiencing, there is another person who will be going through the exact same thing directly after you. I’ve always lived life believing all things in moderation. But there’s no way to fully accomplish this when it comes to a divorce. You can soften the drop off a bit but for the most part it’s all or nothing one week at a time. Therefore, it’s important to give your mind a chance to adjust and to give yourself time to prepare for the transition. And if it’s difficult, which it will be … just think of what it must be like for the kids.

 

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