Saturday, January 26, 2013

80,000 Miles

I have sat down at my computer so many times over the past four months with the intention of writing my next blog post but it has (quite obviously) never happened.  In the meantime there was a long weekend in Maine, Thanksgiving in Atlanta, and New Years' in Virginia, totalling 6,000 FFMs, an awful lot of money spent, and a treasure trove of good times and sweet memories. 

Now that I am entering the fourth year of being a non-custodial parent I am finally starting to pick up on the rhythms of life that the visitation schedule forces upon me.  The summer is great, of course, with the kids basically living with me for an extended period.  The fall is not too bad, as the memories of the summer are still fresh, and the gap between longer visits is relatively short.  But, come January, with winter weather all around and the next long visitation nearly six months away, the mood drops instantly.

From now until school gets out in late June, I will have four weekend visits to Maine, each of which has taken on its own tradition.  February will be a long weekend for Presidents' Day spent mostly at the indoor pool at the Howard Johnson's.  March is the shared birthday weekend for my son and my wife, and we will go to the Japanese hibachi place for dinner and have a fun getaway party--this time at an indoor waterpark in New Hampshire.  Late April is a springtime weekend, with a lot of time spent at playgrounds.  Early June is a beach weekend spent at the Ocean House in Old Orchard Beach and always involving going to the rides at Palace Playland.

In between those good times are gaps of four to six weeks when I become just a voice at the other end of the phone to my kids.  I have maintained my commitment to my son to call every single night.  My ex-wife has made it clear that she doesn't like that I call every single night--she sent me an email saying that it takes away from her "fun time" with the kids, and she has flat out told the kids that she wishes I didn't call so much.  It's just more evidence of her selfishness, her lack of understanding of my connection to our kids, and her absolute disregard for how badmouthing me might affect the kids.

While the distance and separation aren't quite as hard in year 4 as in years 1, 2, or 3, there are times that it feels overwhelming, particularly when my kids are having a hard time and I can't be there for them.  My son has had ongoing conflicts with a couple of kids at his aftercare, which is basically a function of his Asperger's-related inability to regulate his emotions and impulses.  I have pushed for three years to have him see a counselor who can work with him, but my ex hasn't agreed.  I have been working through his school to try to get them to provide him with such services but they have used every excuse and dodge known to man to avoid this responsibility.  Last week, I finally got the school to consent to set him up with a counselor from a local nonprofit social services agency, but his mother is again resisting.  She apparently thinks (incorrectly) that this agency only works with juvenile delinquents and she (incorrectly) fears that he is going to be taken out of school and sent to some sort of detention center.

I will still never understand what exactly goes on in her head that tells her that our son's obvious emotional issues do not exist.  I know she is herself mentally ill, but for godsakes, aren't there parental instincts that take over at some point?  I am confident that I can successfully work with the school and get her (under threat of court action perhaps) to consent to getting our child the help he so clearly needs.

Meanwhile, in Frequent Father land, I have at long last gotten the great job I have been chasing for more than 10 years.  I am now working as a researcher for a major public university, doing really fun work and earning a good salary.  I have still not gotten my arms around the fact that, for the first time since before I married my first wife, I don't have to fret over my career or my professional future.  It is, in a way, a similar feeling to what I experienced after my divorce.  When you spend year after year in an unpleasant situation, you develop both a hard shell and the defensive mechanisms needed to keep the shell intact. 

I have mostly overcome my personal Stockholm Syndrome, thanks in large part to the love and support of my second wife.  We've been married for nearly three years now, but I feel like I was a ghost for most of that time, either physically living away from her or being so preoccupied with my personal and professional demons that I didn't pay much attention to her.  For all of this time I have kept my head down, operating under the creed: "when you're going through hell, keep going."

Well now, I suppose, I am no longer going through hell.  I have crawled my way out of the sewer pipe and am standing in the sunlight on the other end.  I no longer need to look straight ahead and imagine a future that will have to be better than the unpleasant present.  As much as it's possible as a long distance parent, I have reached the other side.  I have a great job, a great marriage, a happy home, a stepdaugher who calls me "Daddy" more often than not, and, yes, two kids who love and need me no matter where I live.  I'll be going to see them in two weeks, and then again and again and again.  Before I know it summer will be here and my kids will be in my home for six weeks, thus beginning another annual cycle.