A Polar Difference

On Friday, my ex demanded (well, almost) that I come to her house and discuss the problems the kids have before I picked them up.  My reply was simply that we would be there, and thus notified her that my wife would be coming as well.  It felt that my ex was trying to play the two of us against each other – to make us take sides.  Having my wife join me for this little sit-down seemed to be the best way to let her know that we were not going to allow her to divide us.  Of course this meant that her partner was there too: She would not normally have been involved in something like this, but there is always a price to pay.  I just did my best to ignore her, but I did wonder to myself how it is possible that someone who started out aesthetically challenged could be even harder on the eyes every single time I see her.

 

At the meeting, my ex asked each of the kids if there were things they wanted to tell me and they all replied that there was nothing they were concerned about.  The ex was obviously frustrated that the kids had forgotten what she wanted them to say and that she could not get any of them to remember their lines.  Eventually she was forced to voice her concerns using her own breath, but the issues all seemed petty and insignificant coming from her and it was made worse when the kids would not even back her up.

 

The ex became exasperated at this point – perhaps because I let it be known that I thought that it was silly that we were dragged over to talk about such petty issues – and she started reciting why she was so worried about the kids.  She used their behavior this past week as an example:

 

She reported that there had been bed wetting, break downs, nightmares, and that the littlest had not been able to get to sleep despite everything she tried (My wife leaned over and whispered “She should try reading to her”).  Obviously, she said, there is something wrong with the way the kids are being raised at my house.  She later continued her attack via e-mail saying that the kids had finally divulged an incident that happened two and a half years ago!  I could not help myself and replied:  What kind of questions are you asking the kids to get them to ‘divulge’ something that happened so long ago it is all but forgotten by everyone else?”

 

The kids seemed fine to me.  They seemed happy to be home and they were greeted with warmth by the five children waiting for them.  Smiles all around and it felt good.  The good feelings continued all weekend and I am pleased to report that we had no bed wetting, no breakdowns, no crying, very little yelling, and that everyone slept as they should.  In fact the only real complaint that I heard from the kids was that I did not read to them long enough last night.  I am used to that complaint; the kids would have me read all night if my voice would hold out so long.  I must admit that leaving Percy Jackson just when he found out who his father was was a difficult task for me too.  I thought about sneaking the book so I could read ahead, and call it practice for tomorrow night rather than call it cheating them.

 

We only have two more nights to read until the three go back to spend time with their mother until Monday of next week.  As good as the stories get, the kids that remain behind will not let me read because they don’t want the kids that are gone to miss any of the story. 

 

If that is not true love in a family, I don’t know what is.

 

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   One Man