65,000 Miles (approximately)

I'm guessing that it's been 6,000 miles since the last entry, but I've been on so many trips that I don't care to calculate it, so I'm estimating. I drove up to the DC area to move for my job. I went to Long Island for a wedding. I flew up to Maine for a weekend with my kids. I went down to Atlanta for a weekend with my wife. I flew up to Maine to retrieve my kids, brought them back to Maryland and spent a great week after Christmas with them, then returned them and came back home. In between my wife came to DC for the weekend so we could go house hunting. I probably missed a trip or two, but that's why I'm estimating.

Meanwhile...

I'm working 5 days a week at a job that is a brutal commuting distance from my parents' house (where I'm staying)--it takes 90 minutes each way unless I leave by 6:15am or return by 3:00pm--and I have to attend frequent nighttime and weekend meetings and events for the job.

My almost 8 year-old son has been diagnosed with Asperger's disorder and is having uncontrollable fits about not being able to stop wetting the bed.

My 4 year-old daughter won't ever talk on the phone to me, although I take some heart in that she won't talk to her mother on the phone when she's with me.

My ex-wife got married to the alcoholic bastard who drove drunk with my child in his car.

I have seen listings for two good jobs in Maine that would pay well and allow me to be near my kids, but I have not applied. On the one hand I was miserable up there and have no desire to go back. On the other hand I have told my kids a million times that the only reason I left was because I needed to find a job. I feel like a liar and a horrible person for not jumping on these jobs, but I just really don't want to go in reverse like that.

My father has been diagnosed with an aggressive terminal illness and probably won't live another year. It's nice to be with my parents, but it's heartbreaking watching him fade away before my eyes. It's also terrible that my mother, who just retired two years ago, is now stuck being the full-time caregiver for him, as he can't dress, shower, go on stairs or even eat without help anymore.

I am so tired and overwhelmed by life that I can't even motivate myself to do simple things like read a book, exercise, or make plans with friends. Most nights I just come home from work, eat too much food (my mom loves to overstuff me), collapse on the couch, and maybe talk to my wife on the phone, and then go to bed and do it all again.

* * *

I try to tell myself that much of this is temporary. My wife and stepdaugher are still on course to move here in May, and we've determined that we can afford a nice three-bedroom townhouse in a good school district that will drop my commute to 20 minutes. My kids will be there with us in our new home for 6 weeks next summer. My dad will probably be gone and my mother will get her life back, and will even be able to watch the kids for us. I'm getting my career back on track--my job is going well, and I am certain that it can lead me to better things. My kids are growing up and I won't feel as horrible about going slightly longer stretches without seeing them. Eventually they'll be able to fly on airplanes without me, which will make it far easier to get them to where I am.

But I still can't get my need to be with my kids out of my system. Every day they were here last week was a joy for me, albeit a joy tempered by being exhausted. It was particularly great when my wife and stepdaughter came up for three days, which was the first time since August that we had all been together. By day two the girls were wearing their matching princess dresses and calling each other "sis." I'm flying up to see my kids in Maine at the end of the month, and will go again for my son's birthday in March. I may even go in February for a long weekend.

The point is, as expensive and difficult as it may be to go there so much, I can't justify not going there. I've got the money now, as I am earning a good salary and saving a lot by living with my parents. I've got the time, as I am mostly bored when I'm here on weekends by myself. And the flights are much shorter and less expensive than they were from Atlanta. I've also gotten over the fear of "what are we going to do?" when I go up there. It's still exhausting being cooped up in a hotel room with them, but they've gotten used to the routine and we always find ways to fill up the time. The best part is that they don't, as they did when I first became The Frequent Father, ask to go back to Mommy's house after a few hours in a hotel. They seem to have gotten used to the idea that this is how things are, and they seem to be OK with it.

* * *

When I started writing this post 25 minutes ago I felt like crap. Now I feel much better. I know that I have to write more often. It's all about the release.

20,900 Miles

August is full of birthdays in my world. You heard about my daughter's birthday last time, and mine was three days later, then my stepdaughter's is next week (she turns five). But the party was last weekend, as she just started school yesterday, and we wanted to get it out of the way before then. So, yes, I did the reverse of my previous seven months and flew down to Atlanta for the weekend. And what a weekend! Friday night I celebrated my birthday with my wife's whole family, then on Saturday was the birthday party, which featured 35 people, a swimming pool, and 7 kids sleeping over at our house. Not very relaxing, but certainly lots of fun. Then came Sunday, when I had to say goodbye to my new family to fly back to Maine to go to work and to see my own kids. What a life.

The rest of the weekend was spent discussing the who, what, where, when, why, and how of my wife and her daughter potentially moving up to Maine. It seems like we've got that under control in terms of the logistics, but there is the matter of her ex-husband potentially trying to stop her from moving (not likely), and the massive guilt trip that her family is laying on her to sway her from leaving. I understand the motivation, but she's 36 years old, and they are treating her like a child.

As for me, I don't need a guilt trip to feel guilty. All weekend long we were surrounded by family and friends, and my stepdaughter was revelling in having so many cousins, aunts, uncles, etc. around to celebrate with her. After I left town on Sunday night she told my wife, "I don't want to leave. I want to have my birthday here every year." And I haven't gotten a good night's sleep ever since. While I know that being near my kids is terrific, the fact is, they're all I've got here. I have no family in Maine, few friends, and no real network of people to call my own. I could, of course, make an effort to build such a network, but my attention is taken up by work, my kids, my wife (phone calls every night make it hard to get out), and I haven't got the time, energy, or money for much more.

So when I think about taking my wife and stepdaughter from their complete, happy world into my uncertain one, I feel awful. I'm trying to tell myself that we'll make friends and find a way to have something of a life, but it seems very hard to imagine.

In other news, things get ever grimmer at my ex's house. My son finished his basketball camp two weeks ago, but doesn't start school for two more weeks. In the meantime he basically hangs around the house all day or plays by himself in the driveway, as she has no money, no friends, and no inclination to do anything. I took my kids out to dinner last night and tried asking them about what they've been doing, but they never really say much, because there isn't much to say.

And things continue to get worse with her family. I went to her mother's house with the kids last week, because she hadn't seen them in months (since the bum got drunk in her barn). I was struck by the fact that all of the pictures in her whole house of my kids and/or my ex were gone. I found out that my ex had let herself into her mom's house and taken all of the pictures. At best, it's psychotic. At worst, it's burglary. Either way, it ain't good.

I also found out that she has been working for several months, getting paid under the table by a friend of her brother's. I want to blow the whistle on her with child support, but there is no way to prove that she's working, and her employer won't confirm it, because he'd get in trouble with the IRS. Of course now that she's not speaking to her brother, maybe his friend will find some way to help me rat her out. Even so, she's not making much ($600 a month), and that won't get you far in this world.

As for her brother, I took the kids to his house last night, and we had a lot of fun. He clearly misses his niece and nephew and I feel horrible for him that he doesn't get to see them. Naturally my kids told their mother where they had been and, sure enough, she sent nasty email to his girlfriend that night, which was aimed at getting her to get rid of him (she claimed, among other things, that he cheats on her, slept with a transsexual, and has AIDS). It's just pathetic.

I ask myself how much longer this can go on. How much longer can she live with no family, no friends, no money, and nothing but a drunk to fill up her life. The kids start school soon (my daughter will be in preschool 2 days a week), and she won't even have then for much longer. She is going to have to crack sooner or later--hopefully sooner. I guess I have to just be patient and be ready when she does.

15,400 Miles

I am back in Atlanta again, after two more trips to Maine. The first was over Memorial Day and was nearly terrific--my new wife and her daughter finally came along, and for a few days we felt like a family. The two of us and our three children collectively got to spend good time together, with our daughters becoming instant friends and things generally feeling terrific. There was just one small problem--my daughter didn't much like the fact that, at the end of each day, she had to go back to her mother's house and not get to have a sleepover with her brother and her "new sister."

One night she decided that enough was enough and she wanted to stay over at my house. The decision came while sitting in the driveway at my ex's house. When my daughter said that she wanted to stay with me, I went inside to ask my ex if that was OK, and she reluctantly agreed. So we all went back to my apartment for our sleepover, and all was great. The girls got in their jammies and watched a Dora video together on the bed while my son played in the living room. We were all ready for bed, and I crowded onto the futon with my son to my left and my daughter to my right. She snuggled up against me, put her thumb in her mouth, and prepared to drift off to sleep. But then she sprang up and said, "one more thing," and went and got a toy to bring into bed. And then another "one more thing," and another, and another. Finally, she demanded to go into the bedroom with the girls to see if they were asleep. When she saw that they were still awake, she wanted to stay awake too. I said, "No, it's sleepy time now."

And then all hell broke loose.

My daughter started screaming, "I want Maaaaamaaaa. I want milk," over and over again. For 20 minutes I tried to calm her down, but she never did. Finally, I put her in the car, hoping that she would fall asleep, but she just kept on screaming and screaming, so I decided to head for her mother's house. Upon arriving, I handed her off to my ex, who flashed me a smug smile, and told her that she had two months to get our daughter emotionally prepared for staying at my house overnight, as she was bound by our divorce order to let her stay with me come her third birthday in August. My ex just stared at me as if I had just suggested that she put our daughter to bed with a drink of cyanide. I left in disgust.

During this trip I interviewed for and was offered a job in Rhode Island (2.5 hours from my kids), but had to turn in down, as it was only a short-term job, so my wife and stepdaughter couldn't move with me. Taking it would thus mean working in one place, and then "commuting" to both Maine and Atlanta--it just wasn't feasible.

Two weeks later, after returning to Atlanta, I was checking my email late at night when I got a Skype call from my ex-brother-in-law. He was calling me from Holland, where he was on tour with his theater company, and passed on the urgent news that my ex's fiance had been arrested...again. He had been hired by my ex's mother to do some yard work, but instead of working, he traipsed out to the barn behind her house and proceeded to down 1..2...3...4 full 40-ounce bottles of malt liquor. He was discovered with bottle #5 in hand by my ex's other brother, who told him to leave at once. He called up my ex to pick him up, and she arrived with my daughter in the car. Upon arriving she got out of her car and began screaming at her brother and his girlfriend. During this confrontation, my daughter was screaming “Mommy! Mommy!” from the car. Her brother's girlfriend suggested that she should attend to her crying child, to which my ex responded, “Shut the fuck up, you fat fucking warthog!” She then left the scene, and her brother called the cops, who came and arrested her fiance shortly thereafter for being drunk, in violation of the bail from his earlier arrest for DUI.

I then called the brother in Maine (who had been directly involved) and he further informed me that my ex continues to deny that her in fiance is drinking, in spite of the clear evidence. He also reports that the fiance has not worked since being fired following his DUI arrest in February, and that my ex continues to refuse to find a job. In the meantime, she has been receiving money from her parents, and that he believes that she has sold her food stamp credits in exchange for cash, which is a crime. His last word to me was that his sister was dead to him, and that even their mother no longer wanted to have anything to do with her.

I immediately decided that I needed to go up to Maine and sort things out, so I bought a plane ticket to come up for a whole week, figuring that my employer would understand. Instead, I was told to come back two days earlier than planned, or else, even though there was no work that really needed to get done. I was subsequently asked by my boss to resign, which I did on the spot. No part time job is worth that much.

So there I was, up in Maine for a whole week with my kids. It should have been great, right? Perfect weather, quality time, going to the beach, etc. Unfortunately, with the various clouds hanging over my world, it just didn't feel quite right. My little pseudo-apartment, which lacks TV, internet access, toys, books, and anything resembling a comfortable environment for kids, is simply a stressful place to have kids for day after day. Adding to the confusion was that my parents came up too--on the one hand, it was good to have them around, on the other hand, two more people in the house often created more stress than anything. On top of it, back in Atlanta, my wife was having chest pains and went to the ER one night where she was diagnosed with having a gall bladder issue (that remains unresolved).

In the midst of this, I went to see an expensive but highly recommended attorney to discuss what, if anything, I could do to get my wife and her alcoholic fiance in line before something happened to my kids. He told me flat out that the only way I stood a chance to get primary custody of the kids was to move back to Maine at once, and that even then, it would be a bruising and (naturally) expensive battle.

After meeting with him and realizing that the courts may not be the answer, I decided that it was time to appeal to whatever was left of my ex's conscience. I called her up to see if we could set up a time to meet to talk things over. She refused, and told me that I could say what I wanted over the phone. So I told her flat out that if she didn't rid herself of her fiance, I would have to take her back to court. We got into yet another argument, and she hung up on me. That evening, as I was on my way to drop off my daughter for the night, my ex called me and instructed me to park on the street, not the driveway. When I pulled up in front of my house, her fiance came out of the house, stood 2 feet behind me while I got my daughter out of her car seat, and all but snatched her from my arms when I turned around to face him. He told me to leave at once. I said that I needed to ask my ex something, and he said, "if you go to the door, I'm calling the cops." I told him that I still was co-owner of the house and he couldn't call the cops on me. My ex then came out and told me that she would call the cops, and refused to even answer my simple question regarding when she'd be dropping off my daughter in the morning.

For the last three days of my trip it went on like this--we exchanged the kids without words. I wonder what is going through their minds when they see their mother not even willing to say hello to their father. It can't be good for them.

Then came the final surprise.

Yesterday, as I dropped off the kids for the last time before heading to the airport, I noticed a police car parked down the block, and wondered what was up. After I let the kids out of my car and got back in, the police car pulled up next to me, and the officer asked to talk to me. She then served me with a Protection from Abuse petition that my ex had made--she apparently believes that my repeated entreaties to her to get rid of her drunken criminal of a fiance constitute emotional abuse.

Now my next trip to Maine will center on going to court to defend myself against charges that I am somehow abusing her--no matter that I have never threatened her or anyone else with any sort of violence, no matter that all I have done is to beg her to wake up and see what the rest of the world (especially her own family) sees. I am the one who was put out of his home, replaced by a worthless drunk. I am the one who has been threatened with violence. I am the one who is trying his best to get a job, be a good husband, and most of all, do everything I can to give my kids the lives the deserve. And now I'm the one being treated like the criminal.

11,000 Miles

I've let three more trips to and from Maine slip away without posting. I don't know if if it's too painful to talk about it, or whether I just don't have anything new to say. The first trip involved my parents flying up to spend a few days with my kids and me around my son's 6th birthday. It was tough, as I still have a somewhat strained relationship with my parents, and the apartment is very small, but it was great to not feel all alone. The second trip was just me, but I stayed for five days, as it was my son's Spring Vacation from school. I made plans with other adults on three of the days, so it was a lot better. This past trip was a whirlwind--24 hours in Maine, then a drive to Boston for a job interview. Yes...it's possible that I may be coming back to live closer to them.

But, yet again, it just can't be that simple.

I had made up my mind after the trip for my son's birthday that, come hell or high water, I'd have to move back to Maine, as I couldn't live with myself being so far from my kids. I re-contacted a firm in Maine that had made me an insult of a job offer (low pay on a weekly rate, with no time commitment), and told them that if they could offer more money and/or a six-month commitment, I'd reconsider. It wouldn't be a great job, but it would be 15 miles from my kids, and that would make up for a lot. Ah, but they couldn't even do that. They called back and said, "take it or leave it." So I left it. I'm not moving back north for a job that could go poof at any time.

Also, as I've been in Atlanta longer and longer, I've seen just how attached my new wife and stepdaughter are to the place. They have so much family and so many friends around, and life is, well, nice for them. I never had such a network of people in Maine, and likely never would. I would always feel guilty about taking them away from their home, and I'd only see my kids every other weekend and on occasional weeknights no matter how close I lived. If I live 1.5 hours away in Boston, at least we'd have a chance at life and careers in a bigger city, and it's a drive, not a flight, up to see my kids.

I don't know if this job is right for me (even if I get it), but I love Boston and always have, and at least have a better feeling about the potential of starting over here instead of in Maine. I suppose if I lived here, I wouldn't be getting on airplans to see my kids, but I'd still be the "frequent father." My trips would be in car, buses, and trains, but remaining in my kids' lives would still require a lot of travel, separation, angst, and feelings of hurt and loss. At least it would be cheaper.